The moment I stepped back into the palace corridors after the garden, the air changed. Outside had been jasmine and possibility. Inside was marble and menace. The walls remembered every whisper, every plot, every drop of blood spilled in quiet corners where servants pretended not to see. I walked barefoot still, the cold stone biting the soles of my feet, reminding me I was not one of them yet. Not fully. Not safely.
Nobles passed me in the long gallery, silk robes rustling like dry leaves. Their eyes slid over me the way one looks at a strange fruit: curiosity first, then calculation, then distaste. I heard the words they did not say aloud. *Peasant omega. Scented trap. Dangerous distraction.* One woman, older, with diamonds heavy on her throat, actually paused and murmured to her companion, loud enough for me to catch: "The king will not tolerate this much longer. An omega collecting princes like trinkets. It is unnatural."
