Metheea kept her head down. Her arms ached from yesterday's hundred swings, and today, she only wanted to disappear. But fate had other plans.
Before she could start, she heard footsteps approaching.
Azrayel.
He was walking straight toward her again.
Murmurs rose as the prince crossed the training ground. She stared at the dirt, heat prickling her neck. Determined not to entertain him anymore.
"Pair up," the instructor ordered. "His Highness will be joining us today."
She could feel the heat of everyone's gaze on her back.
Azrayel stepped closer and leaned in slightly, speaking just loud enough for her to hear. "Pair up with me."
She didn't look up. "No."
He raised an eyebrow. "What was that?"
She met his eyes, voice low and even. "I said no. Please leave me alone."
A flicker of something unreadable passed over his face. Then, with a sudden shift, he raised his voice just enough for everyone to hear.
"You. Join me for dinner tonight."
Silence fell like a blade.
He looked directly at her, all charm and steel. "I insist. But if the lady decline,"
Her jaw tightened. But as every eye turned to her, she could only plaster a smile and drop into a shallow curtsy.
"How can I ever refuse the flame of our kingdom? I am honored, Your Royal Highness."
He chuckled and walked away, leaving her burning with rage.
After class, she steeled herself for the abuse she might receive from Azrayel's admirers.
But to her confusion, Resme and her little court didn't say a word. They kept gazing at her while whispering, but no one said anything.
"Is it true the prince invited you to dinner?" Kalistra whispered as they sat. "If I'd known he'd be at physical training, I'd have joined too. You're so lucky."
She didn't feel lucky. "If I'd known, I wouldn't have shown up."
Kalistra glanced around. "Careful now, they're already watching you."
Metheea almost said, I don't care. But instead, she let out a sharp breath. "The prince likes playing with me. That's all it is."
"I don't think so. You're the first woman he's given an ounce of attention to. You have no idea what people are saying about you two."
"I don't want to know."
They continued their embroidery. Metheea had long since mastered it because years of confinement left her with few pastimes. The class was more of a quiet escape. She and Kalistra stepped out briefly for a walk during the break.
When they returned, her embroidery was torn.
The fabric had been sliced clean through the middle. Threads hung limp, ruined, and one side of the cloth was soaked in inky blotches.
She stared for a long time, lips pressed into a thin line.
Kalistra muttered beside her, "I'm going to say something to her."
Metheea gripped her hand, firm but quiet. "No. Let them be."
Even if every part of her wanted to bash their faces in, herself.
She decided to let it go. It's just another petty trick. She reached for another string, opened her bag and stopped.
There, at the bottom, was a gold envelope she hadn't placed there.
I know your secrets. Meet me tonight at the rose garden and bring me 100 gold coins if you want me to keep it a secret.
Her throat went dry.
She couldn't move. Her fingers trembled around the envelope as a cold shiver ran down her spine. She read the note again. The words remained.
Her identity. Someone knew.
Her first instinct was to destroy the letter. But what if they sent another? What if they had proof?
She could be dead by morning.
Is it Resme? One of her lackeys? She glanced at Kalistra but shook her head. No.
Or…Is it Azrayel himself?
The idea rooted itself in her mind. He'd been watching her, drawing her out. Declaring interest. Was it a trap?
Did he know?
She ran out of the room despite the instructor calling after her. Her heart thundered in her ears.
She couldn't go to Lerima. If the Queen found out someone knew the truth, she have no idea what she'll do. Her freedom was so close.
If Azrayel knew who she truly was, she wouldn't still be breathing. But what if he only suspected?
She had to know.
She turned down the hall, heading straight for the training building where Azrayel is currently housed in.
The guards stepped forward.
"State your visit," one said.
She drew herself tall. "My name is Velisa Alwyn. I am here by invitation of His Royal Highness, Prince Azrayel."
They exchanged a look. One disappeared behind the gates. Minutes passed. Then the doors creaked open and a young man emerged, barely older than her.
"He is finishing documents at the moment but has arranged a place for you. Please follow me."
He led her through stone corridors to a quiet veranda that overlooked the school grounds. Maids brought tea and pastries, setting them with quiet precision.
She folded her hands. Waited. Minutes stretched. Her throat tightened.
She barely touched anything. Each second wound the dread tighter.
What if he did send the letter?
What if this was the moment everything unraveled?
Footsteps.
"I hope you didn't wait too long," Azrayel's voice came.
She didn't answer. She reached into her sleeve and placed the letter on the table.
"I won't be threatened like this," she said coldly. "I know you saw me use concealment magic." Concealment and illusion magic are only taught to Dythridian. If he saw her, he knows.
"You saw me use concealment," she said slowly.
Azrayel cocked his head slowly, drink in hand, and smirked. "Why yes, I did. It's fascinating to see it up close but this isn't mine."
She blinked. "What?"
He didn't answer immediately. Then his voice dropped low.
"No one touches what I take interest in."
He reached forward, lifted her chin.
"Do you want me to kill them?"
She stared at him. "What?"
"Just say the word."
Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Her heart thudded once, twice—then dropped.
She didn't know what scared her more.
The threat.
Or the promise in his voice.