Sleep came lightly, dreams fragmented. Faces from her past flashed—modern life, her first marriage, moments with her husband—memories she hadn't fully remembered until now. And always, at the edge, the shadow of the queen's words:
Do not grow attached to things that cannot be saved.
The Next Morning
Sunlight slipped through the curtains. The palace was quiet, almost too quiet. Maya rose and dressed, her mind alert.
Outside her door, the maids moved softly, carrying water and linen.
"His Highness will not be present for breakfast," one whispered to another.
"Why?" the second asked.
"The queen said it was unnecessary."
Maya's heart skipped slightly. The word unnecessary felt deliberate, controlled, ominous. She leaned slightly to hear more, but the maids moved on.
She dressed and walked toward the window, looking out at the vast palace grounds. The trees stood tall, calm, unyielding in the morning light.
Some branches grow where they do not belong… she thought again. And the queen wants to prune them all.
Maya inhaled slowly. She didn't yet know all the rules, or how the queen's plans would unfold. But one thing was certain: she would stand for Darcien, whether he wanted her help or not.
And this palace, with all its shadows, whispers, and riddles…
She would face it head-on.
⸻
Maya sat at the table, the corset pinching her ribs, poking at the roasted meat with her fork. She glanced around the hall.
The king and queen were flawless—no wrinkles, no signs of tiredness, every movement smooth and composed. The two princes were tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular in a way that made her want to shrink into her chair. Even the princess sat quietly, poised and sharp-eyed, watching everyone like she had a radar for nonsense.
Okay… wow, Maya thought, grinning to herself. If perfection were contagious, I'd be dead by now. Seriously… do they all wake up like this, or is there a secret morning potion I missed?
She snorted quietly. Darcien's piercing gaze flicked toward her. He said nothing, but she felt it—sharp, silent judgment. Yep, definitely thinking I'm the weird breakfast guest. Perfect.
Then, her brain clicked to the next absurd thought. Wait… are they all… the same age? she wondered. The king and queen don't look a day older than the princes. And the princess—same deal. Is this some weird family trend, or do they just all ignore time like it's annoying homework?
She shook her head slightly, trying not to laugh aloud.
The king's calm voice broke through. "Princess Elowen, how was your night? Comfortable, I hope?"
Maya blinked. "Yes… Your Majesty. Comfortable enough. The chamber is… spacious," she replied, keeping her tone polite while inwardly still marveling at the family's impossible youth.
The king's eyes remained steady, unreadable. "Good. And would you like to remain in the main palace for some more time?"
Maya tilted her head, confused. Remain… main palace? Sleep here forever? Become part of the furniture? "I… I'm not sure what you mean, Your Majesty," she said carefully.
"The prince will explain it to you," the king said lightly, glancing toward the silent, imposing prince across the table.
Darcien's eyes flicked at her briefly, still unreadable. Maya swallowed and focused back on her plate, picking at her meat.
Perfect, she thought wryly. Tall, silent, intimidating, and apparently my personal guide to palace mysteries. Fantastic.
She muttered to herself in her head, Honestly, surviving this palace deserves a medal—or at least stretchy pants.
The hall fell into quiet murmurs again, only the scrape of cutlery filling the air. Maya exhaled slowly, bracing herself for whatever Darcy might explain next—and the day ahead in this impossibly perfect, unnervingly youthful palace.
⸻
Maya fell into step behind Darcy, adjusting the heavy skirts of the gown she now wore while trying not to wobble in the corset. He moved quickly, long, confident strides that made her have to jog slightly to keep up.
Her eyes kept drifting to him, even as she tried to focus. His jaw was sharp, almost sculpted, framing a face she recognized from the modern world—but here, somehow, every feature was even better. Dark eyes framed by thick lashes that made her blink more than once, broad chest, tall and imposing, and those thin, precise pink lips.
Maya's thoughts: Okay… wow. Tall, terrifying, and ridiculously perfect. Why does he have to make walking down a hallway feel like a cardio session AND a heart attack at the same time?
She hurried, skirts swishing, trying not to trip over herself.
Darcy glanced over his shoulder, dark eyes locking onto hers. "Why are you following me?" His voice was low, calm, and commanding, but there was an edge that made her flush.
"I… I just thought… um…" Maya stammered internally, facepalming. Modern me would've said something witty. Elowen… not so much. "I… didn't want to get lost, Your Highness," she said aloud, her voice polite but awkward.
He raised a brow, expression unreadable, but she felt the silent judgment radiating off him. "You don't behave like a princess," he said flatly. "And you certainly don't speak like one."
Maya's thoughts: Oh, fantastic. Apparently polite honesty is a crime in palace etiquette. Great start, Maya.
She flushed, biting her cheek as she tried to jog without stumbling. "I… I'm trying," she said softly.
Darcy didn't answer. He turned forward, silent and commanding, his presence pulling the air around him taut.
Maya's thoughts: Totally normal to be half-distracted by a terrifying, impossibly perfect prince while practically jogging in a corset. Nothing weird here. Totally fine.
Maya fell into step behind Darcy, adjusting the heavy skirts of the gown she wore while trying not to wobble in the corset. He moved quickly, long, confident strides that made her jog slightly to keep up.
"Your Highness," he reminded sharply when she tried to call him Darcy.
"What do you mean, Your Highness?" she asked, genuinely confused.
"You will address me as Your Highness," he said evenly, turning forward again.
"No. I will not call you Your Highness," Maya replied, crossing her arms lightly.
Darcy glanced back at her, expression unreadable, and then let out a low chuckle.
Maya's thoughts: Yep, perfect. He laughs at me already. Totally normal.
Darcy finally said, "If you wish to know, ask."
Maya's eyes lit up. "Okay! So… why did the king ask if I want to stay in the main palace? Does that mean I'll be here for a long time? And how do the servants know where to go if the corridors are so long? And why are the doors so tall? Do the windows open? And—"
Darcy stopped and turned to look at her, one brow raised. "You ask too much," he said flatly, though there was a faint twitch at the corner of his lips.
"I… I just want to understand the palace!" Maya said, her voice hurried. "It's huge and confusing and I don't know what to expect!"
Darcy sighed softly, but his tone remained calm. "Very well. We will go one question at a time. The king asked because we are staying in his palace for only a week—for appearances. We will remain here temporarily; normally, I reside in my own palace. They do not wish me here .
She dove into her questions, one after another: the servants, the long corridors, the tall doors, whether the windows opened, the meals, and the number of people in the palace. Darcy answered each carefully, patiently, one by one.
After several minutes, Darcy muttered, almost to himself, "I may have… spoken too much."
Maya's thoughts: Too much? He's… polite, calm, not rushing me… wow. Huh.
Then a memory from the modern world hit her—modern Maya. Every time Darcy had come home in her world, which was rare, he never let her speak. He would dominate the conversation, ignore her questions, or simply remain silent while she waited. And now, here he was, calmly answering every single question she threw at him.
Her mood shifted suddenly, a mix of irritation and embarrassment. Why am I even feeling this? she wondered, cheeks heating.
"I… thank you, Your Highness," she said quickly, her voice polite. "But I think I should… excuse myself to my chamber."
Darcy's dark eyes lingered on her as she started to step away. For a brief moment, he tilted his head slightly, as if wondering, Did I say something wrong? Then he turned forward, silent and unreadable, ignoring the thought entirely.
Maya moved down the hall, adjusting her corset and smoothing her skirts, trying to calm her racing thoughts. Why does he make me feel so… odd? And yet I'm annoyed at myself for feeling it? She shut the door behind her with a soft click and leaned against it for a moment, letting out a quiet exhale.
After adjusting her corset one last time and smoothing her skirts, Maya sank onto the soft bed in her chamber. The room smelled faintly of lavender and polished wood, the warm sunlight filtering through the tall windows lulling her toward rest.
Maybe a short nap… just to recover from all the questions and the terrifyingly perfect prince, she thought, letting herself relax.