The morning light slipped quietly through the high arched windows of Sophie's chamber, turning the sheer curtains gold. She had hardly slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the east wing's shadows, the mural's haunting eyes, and the unshakable certainty that someone—or something—was watching her and Eira that night.
She sat up slowly, pulling the blanket around her shoulders. The fire had burned low, leaving the room cold. Eira was already awake, moving quietly by the dressing table, braiding her hair with quick, nervous fingers. She hadn't spoken much since they returned.
"Do you think he knows?" Sophie whispered.
Eira froze mid-braid, her gaze flickering to the door as if the king himself might appear through it. "If he doesn't now, he will soon. He has spies everywhere, my lady. And you… you've caught his attention more than anyone else."
That wasn't comforting. Sophie pressed her lips together, trying to steady her pulse. She had promised herself she would stop sneaking into forbidden wings, but curiosity had always been her undoing. Curiosity—and the gnawing need to understand who Seraphina had really been.
A knock interrupted her thoughts. Not sharp, not impatient—controlled.
The door opened before either of them could answer.
Alexander stepped inside.
He wore none of his ceremonial armor today, only a dark, high-collared tunic that made his shoulders look broader and his presence heavier. His eyes, sharp as storm clouds, swept across the chamber, lingering first on Sophie, then on Eira, as though measuring how much had been said in whispers already.
"Leave us," he said, his tone soft but leaving no room for disobedience.
Eira gave Sophie a worried glance before bowing out, the door closing quietly behind her.
The silence that followed was suffocating. Sophie's heart hammered so loudly she was sure he could hear it. She clutched the blanket tighter, unsure if she should rise to greet him or stay where she was.
Alexander moved closer, not in his usual stride of command but slower, deliberate—as though he was stalking prey that might startle. His eyes never left hers.
"You slept poorly," he said at last.
Sophie forced a thin smile. "And you can tell that just by looking?"
"I can tell a great many things just by looking," he replied, stopping a mere step away from her bed. His nearness made her pulse quicken. The scent of leather and cold steel clung to him, mingled with something faintly warmer, something she couldn't name.
She wanted to look away, but his gaze pinned her in place.
"Tell me, Sophie…" His voice lowered, almost intimate, though the words were anything but. "…do you always wander when the castle sleeps?"
Her stomach flipped.
There it was—confirmation. He knew.
Sophie tightened her grip on the blanket, careful to school her expression. "I don't know what you mean."
Alexander tilted his head slightly, studying her with unnerving patience. "Lies don't suit you." His hand lifted, brushing against the carved bedpost beside her, his fingers so close she almost felt the heat of his skin. "I don't ask because I doubt the truth. I ask because I want to hear how you'll answer me."
It was a trap. She could feel it. But the way he stood there, close enough that his shadow fell over her, made it difficult to think clearly.
"Perhaps I couldn't sleep," Sophie said, forcing her voice steady. "And perhaps I wished to walk."
"In the east wing?" His eyes gleamed, sharp and dangerous.
Her throat went dry.
Alexander leaned closer, his hand finally lifting—not to touch her, but to rest against the bedframe just behind her shoulder, caging her in. The movement was intimate, protective, and threatening all at once.
"The east wing is forbidden," he murmured, his voice low enough that only she could hear. "It is not a place for restless queens. Or impostors."
Her breath caught at the word. Impostor. He had never called her that directly, not until now.
"I…" Her lips parted, searching for an excuse, but nothing came.
His gaze softened—not with mercy, but with something more complicated, more dangerous. "Do you think I would let you roam so freely if I didn't want to see where your curiosity leads? You are not the first to chase ghosts in these halls."
Sophie swallowed hard. His words were meant as a warning, but part of her heard something else beneath them—an admission. He was watching her, yes, but not only to catch her. Maybe to understand her, too.
"Why are you telling me this?" she asked, her voice smaller than she intended.
Alexander's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Because I want to see how far you'll go before you come to me willingly." His hand shifted, brushing the blanket near her shoulder—close enough to make her shiver, but not close enough to truly touch. "You are bold, Sophie. Boldness can be a strength. Or it can destroy you."
Her chest rose and fell with unsteady breaths. She hated how much his closeness unsettled her, how his piercing gaze both frightened and drew her in.
"If you know I went there," she whispered, "why not punish me?"
Alexander leaned back slightly, finally giving her space, though the tension remained thick in the air. His eyes lingered on her face, searching, weighing.
"Punishment would be simple," he said. "But I want something far more difficult from you."
Her brows furrowed. "And what is that?"
"Truth."
The word landed heavy between them.
Before she could answer, he straightened fully, his presence still dominating the room though he had stepped back. "We will dine together this evening. Before the council. You will sit beside me."
It wasn't an invitation—it was a command. And perhaps a test.
Without another word, Alexander turned and left, his cloak brushing the stone floor as the door shut behind him.
Sophie sat frozen on the bed, her hands trembling against the blanket.
Truth. He wanted truth. But how much truth could she afford to give?
Eira slipped back into the room moments later, eyes wide with worry. "What happened?"
Sophie swallowed, her heart still racing. "He knows," she whispered. "And I don't think he's going to stop watching me until I prove something—one way or another."
The handmaiden paled. "Then we have to be careful. Very careful."
Sophie nodded, though inside, she wasn't sure if caution would be enough anymore. Because the real danger wasn't only Alexander's suspicion. It was the way he looked at her—like a man torn between the crown's cold duty and something far more human.
And that might be what undid her in the end.