Morning in the east wing carried a quieter rhythm than the rest of the palace. While gossip ran wild in the grand halls, Alexander and Sophia's world was confined to their own household with loyal knights, discreet servants, and the handful of staff assigned to attend them.
The dining room of the prince's wing was modest by royal standards yet elegant in its own right. The long table was dressed in white linen and silverware, a vase of fresh lilies placed at its center. Servants stood silently along the walls, waiting to serve at a moment's notice.
Sophia took her place on right side to the Alexander. The silence between them was palpable, more oppressive than the stares of hundreds of courtiers could ever be.
It was Alexander who broke it. His storm-gray eyes, sharp even in the quiet morning, lingered on her.
"I heard," he said evenly, "that you were unwilling to marry me. That you threw tantrums and begged your father to release you from this union."
The sound of silver against porcelain halted. The servants stood with lowered gazes, but unable to hear the exchange and assuming the whispering as unexpected romantic sight.
Sophia forced a small smile, the kind meant to conceal more than it revealed. "Rumors have a way of growing teeth, Your Highness. Yes, I was frightened. But what maiden would not be, when bound by royal decree without choice? Fear, however, is not rejection."
Alexander's gaze narrowed. "So your tantrums were mere… maidenly nerves?" His voice held a bite of disbelief.
Sophia hesitated only a fraction of a heartbeat before replying, "Call it that if you wish. What matters is that I am here now, and I do not intend to run."
Her words were carefully spun, yet Alexander did not look convinced. His fingers drummed lightly on the armrest of his chair. "You are clever with words, Lady Valehart. But I have lived too long surrounded by those who smile as they scheme. Do not think me so blind."
Sophia swallowed. The faint smile never wavered, but inside her pulse raced. I cannot tell him the truth. Not yet. He would think me mad or worse maybe.
She lifted her cup gracefully, meeting his storm-gray eyes with quiet defiance. "Then judge me not by words, but by what I do."
For a long moment, neither moved. The tension was so thick it felt like the walls themselves leaned in to listen. Finally, Alexander set down his knife, his plate barely touched.
"Enough." His tone carried an air of finality. "I will retire to my study."
Damien appeared at once after getting a gesture from the prince, pushing the prince's chair back from the table. Alexander expression unreadable as he departed the hall. The sound of the study door closing a moment later echoed faintly down the corridor.
Sophia remained seated for a breath longer, staring at the place he had been. A complicated mix of irritation and curiosity swirled inside her. He does not trust me. Not yet. But one day, he will have no choice but to see me for what I am.
She rose, her silk gown whispering against the floor, and turned to her handmaidens.
"Come," she said softly. "I wish to see the castle."
The young women curtsied, falling into step around her as they led her through the halls. The east wing was vast and self-contained, filled with arched windows overlooking gardens, corridors lined with tapestries of Daxton kings long past, and courtyards meant for privacy rather than display. The staff bowed as she passed, some curious, others wary.
With each step, Sophia took in her new world, not a prison, as she had feared, but a labyrinth filled with secrets waiting to be uncovered.
And somewhere behind a closed study door, Alexander sat brooding, his thoughts circling around the woman who had upended his quiet exile with lies that rang too hollow to believe… and a presence too vivid to ignore.