The palace was its own kind of prison.
Alina had come to understand this in the weeks she spent navigating its winding corridors, its hidden courtyards, and its labyrinthine social games. It was a place of whispers and shadows, of unspoken rules and unseen dangers. And at the heart of it all was Prince Sheen—a figure both revered and feared, an heir walking a path lined with knives.
Yet for all his authority, he was a man seen less than spoken of.
She had noticed it more and more. The way the court officials lowered their voices when discussing him. The way servants would bow but never linger in his presence. Even the palace guards, hardened men trained in unwavering discipline, seemed hesitant when he passed.
He moved like a shadow within his own home—commanding yet distant, present yet untouchable.
And tonight, fate would cross their paths once more.
It was late. The palace had settled into a quiet hum, the torches flickering dimly along the outer halls. Alina had finished her duties for the day, but a sudden errand from a senior servant had sent her on a detour toward the rarely used western pavilion. Few ventured here at night—except, apparently, for one.
As she rounded a corner, she stopped abruptly.
He was there.
Prince Sheen stood alone near the open balcony, the night wind tugging at the edges of his dark robes. He leaned slightly against the wooden railing, one hand gripping the polished surface as if to steady himself. The lantern light nearby cast long shadows over his sharp features, highlighting the exhaustion lining his face.
Alina knew she should leave. Knew she should lower her gaze, retreat before he even noticed her.
But something held her still.
Perhaps it was the way he stood—like a man carved from stone, bearing an unseen weight that no one else could carry. Perhaps it was the faint unsteadiness in his posture, the slight tension in his fingers that betrayed what the rest of him refused to show. Or perhaps it was the fact that, for the first time, he looked less like a prince and more like a man.
She took a cautious step forward. The floor creaked beneath her, and in an instant, his eyes were on her.
Dark. Piercing. A storm trapped beneath the surface of still waters.
Her breath caught. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then—
"You again."
His voice was low, measured, but laced with something she couldn't quite decipher.
Alina bowed quickly, willing her heart to steady. "Forgive me, Your Highness. I was only passing through."
Silence stretched between them. His gaze didn't waver. She could feel it—searching, unravelling.
"You're always watching," he finally said, not as an accusation, but as a quiet observation.
Alina swallowed. "Not intentionally, Your Highness."
He exhaled softly, shifting his gaze toward the distant horizon. "Then tell me, Lin Mei," he murmured, testing the name she had given as her own. "What do you see?"
Alina hesitated. The correct response would be something deferential, something that would allow her to leave without drawing any more attention.
But instead, she said the truth.
"I see a prince who carries too much."
His fingers curled slightly against the railing.
She knew she had spoken out of turn, but he did not reprimand her. Instead, his lips curled into something faint—something that was not quite amusement, not quite bitterness.
"You should be careful with such words," he said quietly. "Truth is not always welcome in this place."
Alina lowered her gaze. "I meant no offense."
"None was taken."
The wind shifted between them, carrying the scent of evening rain, of cherry blossoms lingering in the air. She should have left then. Should have bowed once more and excused herself.
But she lingered.
And so did he.
Then, as if breaking whatever spell had momentarily settled over them, Prince Sheen straightened. The brief moment of vulnerability—of something raw and real—vanished behind the carefully constructed mask he always wore.
"Go," he said, kindly, but with finality. "It is late."
Alina hesitated, then bowed once more. "Goodnight, Your Highness."
She turned and walked away, yet the presence of him lingered, an imprint that refused to fade.
And as she slipped back into the shadows of the palace halls, she knew one thing for certain.
She was not the only one watching.