By morning, the palace knew.
Aurelia didn't know how—only that it always did. Secrets here did not travel loudly. They slipped beneath doors, crept along corridors, and settled into whispers before breakfast had even been served.
She felt it the moment she stepped outside her chambers.
The way servants paused mid-step.
The way maids bowed a little too deeply.
The way guards avoided meeting her eyes.
They were measuring her.
Counting time.
"She's still alive."
Aurelia heard it as she passed a pair of noblewomen near the eastern gallery. The words were barely audible, but the shock beneath them was unmistakable.
Still alive.
She continued walking as though she hadn't heard, her spine straight, her expression calm. Inside, however, her thoughts churned.
They expected me to die last night.
Not eventually. Not someday.
Last night.
Breakfast was served in a long sunlit hall overlooking the gardens. Normally, the queen dined alone. Today, however, several ladies of the court had suddenly found reasons to be present.
They smiled too brightly. Asked polite, meaningless questions. Watched her over teacups with thinly veiled curiosity.
"How did you sleep, Your Majesty?" one asked.
"Peacefully," Aurelia replied, lifting her cup.
A flicker of disbelief passed through the woman's eyes.
"How fortunate," another murmured. "So many queens have… struggled."
Aurelia met her gaze directly. "I imagine they were under great pressure."
The woman flushed and looked away.
Good.
After breakfast, Aurelia was escorted through the palace—presented, really. Introduced to stewards, advisors, ladies-in-waiting. The king was conspicuously absent.
That, too, was noticed.
"His Majesty is very busy," someone said carefully.
Or avoiding me, Aurelia thought.
The truth was clear enough: the court was watching to see what the king would do next. Whether he would distance himself. Whether he would protect her. Whether the curse would finish what it had started.
By midday, the tension became unbearable.
Aurelia dismissed her attendants and slipped into the garden alone.
The air was cooler here, shaded by towering hedges and flowering trees. Birds sang overhead, blissfully unaware of curses and expectations. She walked slowly, letting the calm settle her nerves.
Until she reached the rose path.
The roses here were infamous—deep crimson, thorned, and grown only in this section of the garden. No one tended them but the king himself.
Aurelia paused.
"Don't touch them."
She turned.
Kael stood a short distance away, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
"I wasn't going to," she said. "I've learned to listen to warnings."
His gaze flicked briefly to her hands. "You survived the night."
"So I've heard."
A muscle in his jaw tightened. "You should not have."
She tilted her head. "Is that concern, Your Majesty?"
"Realism," he replied.
They stood in silence for a moment, the roses between them like a boundary.
"The court is restless," Aurelia said finally. "They expected me to die."
Kael exhaled sharply. "They always do."
"And when I don't?" she asked.
"They will look for reasons."
"For weakness," Aurelia said.
"For explanations," Kael corrected. "And explanations lead to fear."
"Fear can be managed," she said quietly.
Kael looked at her then—really looked. "You are already thinking like a ruler."
"I have to," Aurelia replied. "No one survives here by pretending."
He said nothing, but something shifted.
"Why didn't you come to breakfast?" she asked after a moment.
His gaze hardened. "Because proximity is dangerous."
"You didn't seem to mind proximity last night," she said softly.
His eyes flashed. "Last night nearly killed you."
"But it didn't."
Silence fell between them again, heavy and charged.
"The curse reacted," Kael said finally. "It always does. It feeds on intent, on closeness. On emotion."
"And yet," Aurelia said, "it hesitated."
Kael stepped closer—too close. The roses rustled as though disturbed by an unseen wind.
"Do not build hope on uncertainty," he warned. "Hope is what kills queens."
Aurelia held his gaze. "Or saves them."
Something dark and unreadable crossed his expression.
"You don't understand what it's like," he said quietly. "To watch people die because they dared to stand where you're standing."
"I don't," she agreed. "But I understand what it's like to be dragged into a fate you didn't choose."
Kael looked away first.
"You will stay alive by keeping distance," he said. "Emotionally. Physically. In every way that matters."
Aurelia nodded slowly. "Then teach me how."
That stopped him.
"Teach you… what?" he asked.
"How to survive you," she said calmly.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then, unexpectedly, he laughed—soft, bitter, and short-lived.
"You really are reckless," he said.
"No," Aurelia replied. "I'm practical."
He studied her as though weighing something dangerous.
"Very well," he said at last. "But understand this—if you die, it will not be because I failed to warn you."
Aurelia inclined her head. "And if I live?"
His eyes darkened. "Then everything changes."
As he turned to leave, Aurelia spoke again.
"They're waiting for my death," she said.
Kael paused.
"Let them wait," he replied.
And for the first time, Aurelia believed him.