Mira had expected the royal wing to feel intimidating.
She hadn't expected it to feel… silent.
Not the peaceful kind of silence.
The heavy kind.
The kind that reminded you this place was built for power, not comfort.
The doors closed behind her with a soft click that sounded final.
"Well," she muttered, taking in the marble floors, high ceilings, and absurdly elegant hallway, "this is subtle."
Adrian stood a few steps away, hands clasped behind his back like he was afraid to touch anything, including her.
"You'll have the east rooms," he said. "Private entrance. Guards outside. No one enters without clearance."
She eyed him. "And you?"
"West wing," he replied. "Opposite side."
"Good."
He hesitated. "I won't interfere."
She turned to face him fully. "Say that again slower so I believe you."
His lips twitched. "I won't interfere."
"Good," she repeated. "Because if I feel watched, "
"I'll leave," he said immediately.
That surprised her.
She studied his face, searching for mockery or control.
Found neither.
"Thank you," she said quietly, then cursed herself for saying it.
A staff member appeared, bowed, and disappeared just as quickly. Mira rolled her shoulders, suddenly aware of how exposed she felt.
"This place feels like it's judging me," she muttered.
"It judges everyone," Adrian said. "You just notice it more."
She snorted. "Figures."
He gestured toward her rooms. "If you need anything, "
"I won't," she said.
He nodded. "Of course."
She turned to go, then paused. "And Adrian?"
He looked up.
"This doesn't make us… whatever everyone thinks it makes us."
His gaze held hers. "I know."
But his voice betrayed him.
Her room was ridiculous.
That was the only word for it.
A sitting area bigger than her family's living room. A bed that looked illegal. Windows overlooking the gardens, moonlight spilling in like it paid rent.
Mira dropped her bag and stared.
"This is stupid," she muttered. "This is aggressively stupid."
She flopped onto the bed, and immediately sat back up.
"Okay," she admitted to the empty room, "the bed is excellent."
She paced instead, restless energy buzzing under her skin.
Everything felt closer now.
The danger.
The attention.
Him.
A knock interrupted her thoughts.
She tensed.
"Yes?" she called.
"It's me," Adrian said from the other side of the door. "I brought, "
She opened it before he finished.
He held a tray.
Soup. Bread. Tea.
Simple.
Human.
"I figured you hadn't eaten," he said.
She stared at it. Then at him. "You figured?"
He shrugged awkwardly. "You push things aside when you're stressed."
Her throat tightened before she could stop it.
She stepped back. "Fine. Come in. But don't make it weird."
"I won't," he promised.
He set the tray down carefully, like he was handling something fragile.
They stood there, suddenly unsure of where to put their hands.
"This is temporary," she reminded him.
"Yes."
"And you're not allowed to lecture me."
"I wouldn't dare."
"And if you start acting like a prince, "
"I'll stop."
She narrowed her eyes. "Immediately."
He nodded solemnly. "Immediately."
A silence settled.
Not awkward.
Just… full.
"Why did you really vote for me?" she asked suddenly.
He didn't answer right away.
Then, quietly, "Because you don't belong to fear."
She swallowed. "That's a bad reason."
"It's the only honest one I had."
She looked down at the tray. "You'll regret this."
"I already do," he said, then added softly, "And I don't."
Her chest tightened.
"Goodnight, Mira," he said, stepping back.
"Goodnight, Your Highness."
He winced. "Please don't."
She smiled faintly. "Then don't give me reasons to."
He left.
The door closed.
Mira sat on the edge of the bed, soup forgotten, heart racing for reasons she refused to name.
Across the wing, Adrian leaned against the wall outside his own room, exhaling slowly.
This was dangerous.
She was dangerous.
And for the first time in his life,
He didn't want control.
He wanted her to stay exactly as she was.