Caelia had sworn to herself that she would never speak of that incident again. Not even under torture. Not even if Isobel bribed her with sugar buns for a week straight.
But fate, as always, had other plans.
The royal residence was alive with movement that morning, a quiet hum of activity buzzing beneath polished floors and gilded ceilings. Caelia stood in a wide corridor lined with tall windows and velvet-lined walls, clutching a basin and cloth. Mistress Ilena had tasked her to freshen up a series of guest rooms in the eastern wing; far from his chambers. Or so she thought.
She hadn't seen him since that morning. No accidental glimpses. No whispered sightings. Just silence. And she liked it that way.
Her heart still leapt into her throat at the thought of his face. His eyes. And good Gods, his body. Caelia shook the image from her mind, slapping her cheeks lightly as if to knock the memory out of her head.
Focus. Scrub. Wipe. Leave.
It was simple.
Until it wasn't.
She was about to go into one of the rooms when the hallway behind her went silent. Not the usual hush of foot traffic. This was the eerie, spine-prickling kind. The kind that made the hairs on her arms stand up.
She turned her head slightly, just enough to catch the presence approaching from the far end of the corridor.
Four guards marched in strict formation, armored and silent. Behind them walked a tall man with raven-black hair and a lethal grace to his step , Jorik Alaric, the personal knight of the Crown Prince, known for cutting down men without flinching and smiling only when covered in blood.
Beside him strode another figure. Older, with sharp features, graying hair slicked back, and a dark cloak trailing behind him like a shadow. Lord Thaddeus Varek, Royal Advisor and a man feared almost as much as the Crown Prince himself.
And in the center of it all, walking as if the world itself bowed to him, was him.
Prince Caelum Arcturus Leontius Veyron of House Veyron. Crown Prince of Karethia. The Midnight Heir.
The air grew heavier with every step he took. He didn't glance around. Didn't acknowledge the guards. His eyes, cold as obsidian, were fixed ahead, until they weren't.
Caelia's heart slammed into her ribs.
She dropped her cloth.
Those piercing eyes met hers. No mistaking it this time.
He saw her.
And worse—
He looked.
Not a glance. Not a fleeting, impersonal flick of the eye.
A look.
Unmoving. Quiet. Calculating.
She bent hastily to grab the cloth and stepped aside, keeping her eyes on the floor as they passed. Her breath caught when his boots stopped just inches from her.
Silence.
She dared to lift her gaze slightly.
Caelum didn't speak.
But his eyes told a different story.
Curious. Intrigued. Watching her like a puzzle he couldn't quite solve.
Then Jorik Alaric cleared his throat behind him. "Your Highness?"
Caelum blinked once, then walked on as if she'd never existed.
Caelia finally exhaled when the tension left with him.
But her legs gave out beneath her, and she sank to her knees, overwhelmed. What in the blazing stars was that?
"Are you well?" a voice asked above her.
She looked up to see Mistress Ilena, her ever-sharp superior, staring at her with narrowed eyes. "I...yes. The floor. Just… slippery."
The older woman raised a brow. "Walk carefully. We can't have maids fainting from the mere presence of His Highness."
Caelia swore her soul left her body.
Mistress Ilena walked off, and Caelia scrambled to her feet, mortified beyond reason.
Later that day, she returned to the servant quarters only to find it in chaos.
"Eliza, give me my brush!" Isobel shrieked.
"You borrowed it, blonde menace." Eliza fired back, dodging a pillow.
Mira sat calmly on the edge of her bunk, polishing her boots with the serenity of a monk.
Caelia stepped in, and all three girls looked up.
"Speak of the storm," Isobel drawled. "You won't believe what we heard."
"Please don't..."
"Too late," Eliza grinned. "Apparently, the prince stopped in the corridor today. Stared down a maid like she owed him five gold crowns."
Mira looked up. "Wait. Caelia… that wasn't you, was it?"
Caelia didn't answer.
The room erupted.
"I KNEW IT!" Isobel squealed. "Was it the stare? The cold one? Or did he say something? Gods, tell me you swooned..."
"I didn't swoon," Caelia snapped, face burning.
"Eliza, take notes. We're calling this The Midnight Stare Incident."
"You're all ridiculous."
"But he stared, right?" Mira asked softly. "He remembered you."
Caelia didn't reply.
Because she didn't know what terrified her more.
That he remembered her.
Or that he was starting to watch.