I lean against the polished wooden dresser in my chambers, flipping through a book without really seeing the words. My mind is a battlefield, torn between Cassian's absence, the council's veiled threats, and the Queen's ever-tightening grip.
Days have passed. No word. No trace. The Prince has vanished, and the weight of finding him has been placed squarely on my shoulders.
I shut the book with a snap. This isn't just about bringing him back; it's about understanding why he left in the first place.
Is he running from me? From this marriage? Or is it something bigger?
Is he fleeing from the crown itself? From the destiny that's been forced upon him, just as this marriage was forced upon us both?
And the real question, the one gnawing at me the most, if I do find him, will he even want to come back?
A light knock on the door pulls me from my thoughts. Esther steps inside, balancing a silver tray with my evening tea.
"Your Highness," she curtsies, setting the tray down.
I watch her carefully. There's something different about her. Unlike the other palace staff, she doesn't avoid my gaze, nor does she wear that blank, obedient expression. She's curious, watching me as much as I watch her.
"You're the only one who isn't afraid of me," I remark casually, lifting the teacup to my lips. "Why is that?"
She smiles, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Because I find you interesting, Princess."
I raise an eyebrow. "Interesting?"
She steps closer, lowering her voice. "You don't act like a typical royal bride. You don't whine about your missing husband, nor do you pretend to be a docile, helpless wife. That makes me wonder… what do you want?"
I let out a soft chuckle. "I want to know things. I like to understand my surroundings." I pause, watching her reaction. "And right now, I'd like to know where my husband might be."
Esther tilts her head. "That's a dangerous curiosity, Your Highness."
"Danger is a matter of perspective," I reply smoothly. "But I imagine you know exactly who would have that information."
She hesitates for a beat before sighing. "His personal guard. Sir Rowen."
"Rowen," I repeat, as if testing the name on my tongue. "And where might I find this Rowen?"
A flicker of amusement crosses her face. "At the training grounds, usually. Or at the western wing after dusk."
I set my cup down and stand, offering her a warm smile. "Thank you, Esther. I do appreciate good conversation."
She smirks. "I'm always at your service, Princess."
I exhale sharply and turn to Esther, arms crossed. "I need to know, Esther; how often does the prince disappear like this? Does he take an eternity before returning, or is this just another one of his passing whims?"
Esther hesitates, shifting on her feet. Her eyes flicker with something - uncertainty, maybe reluctance. "He's… fond of vanishing from time to time," she finally admits. "There's no pattern to it. No warning, no explanation. Sometimes he's gone for days, other times weeks. It's never definite."
I narrow my eyes. "And when he returns?"
She shrugs. "He walks in as if nothing happened, as if the world didn't pause in his absence. No one questions him...not the council, not the Queen. It's just… accepted."
My fingers tighten around the edge of the dresser. Accepted? Maybe by them. But not by me.
I frown, leaning forward. "He leaves all by himself? No guards? No security? Just like that?" My voice is sharp with disbelief. A prince - no, the Crown Prince - vanishing without an escort? It doesn't add up.
Esther shrugs, her expression unreadable. "I can't really tell, my princess. The Crown Prince is a very private person."
Private? That's an understatement. I watch her closely, searching for any sign that she knows more than she's letting on. But her face remains neutral, unreadable. Either she truly doesn't know, or she's just as in the dark as everyone else.
I exhale, pushing off the dresser. "That doesn't make sense. A prince doesn't just disappear without someone knowing where he is."
Esther bows her head slightly. "With all due respect, my princess, Cassian does."
***
The sun is setting as I make my way toward the western wing. The palace corridors are quieter in the evening, the golden glow of candlelight casting long shadows on the marble floors.
Rowen is easy to spot. He stands tall, dressed in dark leather armour, speaking to another guard. His hand rests on the hilt of his sword, exuding the quiet confidence of a man who has seen battles.
I approach with measured steps. The other guard bows and excuses himself, leaving us alone.
"Sir Rowen," I greet, my voice smooth and pleasant.
He turns, startled at first, then bows. "Your Highness."
I take a step closer, clasping my hands in front of me. "You've served my husband for many years, haven't you?"
"Yes, Princess."
"Then you must know where he is."
His face remains unreadable, but I notice the slight tension in his shoulders. "The Prince comes and goes as he pleases."
"Of course he does." I smile, tilting my head slightly. "But I imagine someone like you keeps track of him. For his safety, of course."
Rowen hesitates. I soften my tone, letting warmth seep into my voice. "I'm not here to scold him, Sir Rowen. I only wish to ensure he's well. And truthfully, the council is pressuring me for answers." I pause, then add, "I would hate to see them turn their attention on you."
His jaw tightens. I see the conflict in his eyes, the duty to his prince versus the reality of the situation.
Finally, he exhales. "There's an estate. A private villa outside the city. It's where he goes when he wants to be left alone."
I nod, satisfied. "Thank you, Sir Rowen. That wasn't so difficult, was it?"
His lips press into a thin line, but he doesn't reply.
I turn on my heel, already planning my next move.
Cassian, wherever you are, your time of hiding is over.
Before I leave the wing, Sir Rowen's voice stops me.
"Be careful, Princess."
I glance back. His expression is unreadable, but there's something in his eyes - something that almost looks like... pity.
A chill runs down my spine.
What aren't they telling me?
And more importantly, what am I walking into?