The water trailed down his shoulders, steam curling off his skin as he stepped out of the bath chamber, reaching for the towel draped nearby. Caelum Veyron didn't think twice; he never needed to. This was his space. A chamber few dared enter without invitation.
But then—
A sound.
Soft. Sudden. Stilled breath.
He turned.
And there she was.
A girl in plain maid garments, frozen mid-step, a cloth clenched in her hand, her eyes wide as moonlight, locked on him.
She didn't scream. Didn't run. She just stared.
And strangely, so did he.
Not out of shock. Not out of anger.
But curiosity.
She wasn't like the others who gawked or bowed or trembled. There was something in her gaze, something almost amusing. Honest. Startled. Embarrassed.
Real.
The girl turned swiftly, cheeks flaming, mumbling an apology as she stumbled out the door, leaving the scent of lavender polish and linen behind.
Now, Caelum sat alone in his study, fingers drumming against the armrest of his dark mahogany chair. The heavy drapes muted the afternoon light. His room, like always, was still, cold marbled floors, stone-grey walls, blackened chandeliers and silver fixtures. No clutter. No warmth. Just like him.
He preferred it that way.
No noise. No distractions.
And yet.
His thoughts wandered.
To her.
He didn't even know her name.
The palace was filled with maids,dozens hired every moon cycle; but she… she stood out.
Not because she had seen him naked.
But because she hadn't bowed.
She hadn't gasped or squealed or simpered like most did. She had just stared like a deer caught in firelight, then ran as if she'd touched flame.
And oddly enough…
He found it cute.
Caelum frowned.
Cute?
He never used that word. Not for anyone. Not for anything.
He leaned back in his chair, brushing a hand through his damp hair, then looked out the tall arched window. Beyond it, Arkenhall gleamed with its towers and pristine avenues, but none of it interested him today.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
In the silence, her face lingered behind his lids. Those wide eyes. That startled gasp. The way her fingers trembled as she clutched the cloth.
He shouldn't be thinking of a maid. Especially not one whose name he didn't know. He didn't have time for frivolity or idle interest.
And yet…
He couldn't help the way his lips curved ever so slightly, barely there, almost invisible.
If anyone had seen it, they might've thought it a trick of the light.
Because Caelum Veyron, the Midnight Heir, never smiled.