In her dreams, the jungle came alive—dense, wild, and unfamiliar. The air was thick with humidity, the scent of earth and rain heavy. Maya felt the crunch of leaves under small, hurried footsteps.
A child ran through the undergrowth, dark hair flying, eyes wide with fear. Maya recognized her instantly—little Elowen—though she seemed younger than she remembered, more fragile.
Beside her, a mysterious woman moved in shadow, her face obscured, hands guiding and protecting the child. Branches snagged at hair and clothing, and the woman pulled the girl back, urging her forward with a quiet, urgent authority.
Maya felt the panic in the child's small body, the desperate need to escape something unseen. The jungle seemed alive with whispers and distant cries, the rush of water somewhere nearby, always just out of reach.
The girl stumbled over a root, and the woman caught her instantly, holding her close. They looked at each other, though the woman's face remained hidden. A sense of familiarity tugged at Maya—a connection she couldn't place, yet felt deep in her chest.
Then a dark shadow passed through the trees, moving fast, silent, and threatening. Maya felt the girl's terror like a sharp sting in her mind. She reached out—but the moment ended, dissolving into nothing.
Maya awoke with a start. Her heart pounded, sweat cooling on her skin. The sun streamed in through the tall windows, casting long, warm lines across the polished floor. Her chest heaved as she tried to shake off the lingering unease.
What was that? she thought, glancing around her chamber. A memory? A warning? Or… something I'm supposed to know?
She pushed herself upright on the bed, brushing her hair from her face. Focus, Maya. Survive the palace first. Dreams… later.
Her thoughts flicked to Darcien. And maybe… figure out how to keep him from noticing how much I think about him.
The palace corridors awaited, bustling quietly. Maids whispered as they moved with trays and linens, the echo of polished shoes on stone floors filling the air.
Maya rose, readjusting her gown and corset. Each movement felt deliberate, careful—small steps toward independence in a place designed to overwhelm.
Time to see more of this place… carefully this time, she thought, stepping into the hall.
The corridors stretched endlessly, sunlight streaming through tall windows, shadows dancing across ornate carvings. The palace felt alive, observing, waiting.
And somewhere in its vastness, Darcien moved—silent, commanding, and impossibly perfect.
Maya swallowed and stepped forward. The game of survival had only just begun.
Maya stepped carefully into the corridor, adjusting the heavy skirts of her gown to avoid tripping. Sunlight spilled through the tall windows, casting patterns across the polished floor. The echo of distant footsteps and the soft murmur of servants filled the air, a constant reminder that the palace was alive and moving even when it felt eerily quiet.
She paused, glancing down one hallway after another. The palace seemed impossibly vast, a labyrinth of corridors, doors, and hidden corners. Each step made the corset pinch at her ribs, but she tried to ignore it, letting her curiosity guide her.
Careful not to wander too far, she moved slowly, studying the ornate carvings along the walls and the elaborate patterns on the marble floor. Every detail seemed intentional, designed to impress, intimidate, or simply remind anyone who entered that they were in a place of order and control.
And then—bam!
She collided with someone broad-shouldered, tall, and impossibly imposing.
"Oh!" Maya exclaimed, stumbling back slightly.
The young man's eyes were sharp, dark, and piercing, immediately fixed on her with unmistakable disapproval. "Watch where you're going," he said, his voice low, calm, and edged with disdain.
"I—I'm so sorry!" Maya stammered, trying to recover, curtsying awkwardly. "I didn't mean—"
He stepped back, maintaining his distance, his expression unchanging. Maya could feel the weight of his judgment. Yikes. Definitely made a bad first impression.
She forced a polite smile, stepping aside. "I'll be more careful," she said softly, backing away.
The prince said nothing further, only offering a cold glance before striding off, his posture perfect and untouchable.
Maya's thoughts swirled. Okay… wandering alone in a palace full of people who look like they could crush me with one hand was maybe a bad idea. And he looks disgusted just because I exist. Great.
Shaking off the encounter, she adjusted her corset and smoothed her skirts. Focus, Maya. Explore carefully. Survive. Learn.
She continued down the corridor, more alert now, noting every corner and every sound. The palace was vast, elegant, and unnerving—but she was determined not to let it overwhelm her.
Maya carefully made her way through the palace corridors, dodging busy servants and ducking under hanging tapestries. Following the sound of clashing metal and sharp shouts, she stepped into a wide courtyard she hadn't seen before.
Her eyes immediately widened.
Several young men were sparring with swords, their movements precise and powerful. Muscles flexed and glistened with sweat in the sunlight. Maya felt herself drawn closer, unable to resist.
She inched forward, careful not to make a sound, her eyes scanning the lines of toned abs and broad shoulders. Every swing, every parry seemed to call for her attention.
Then, abruptly, all the swords stopped. The men froze mid-strike, their sharp gazes flicking over her.
Instinctively—and completely without thinking—Maya reached out and lightly pressed a finger against one of the closest young man's abs.
"Wow… he'd be a perfect model," she muttered under her breath.
Immediately, her eyes went wide. Oh no. Oh no no no! She jumped back, hands clutching her skirts, cheeks burning red.
The swordsmen shifted uncomfortably, some glancing at her in confusion, others clearly trying not to laugh. Maya pressed her hands to her face, muttering, Why did I just do that?! I can't… can't… stop thinking. Focus, Maya!
Her heart raced as she took a few steps back, trying to regain her composure. The courtyard seemed suddenly enormous, and every glistening muscle still drew her eyes despite her embarrassment.
Maya's thoughts: Okay… breathe. Just act normal. Totally normal. Didn't touch anyone else.
Maya was still trying to calm her racing heart when she heard deliberate, heavy footsteps approaching. She glanced up—and froze.
Darcy had appeared at the edge of the training ground, tall, broad, and impossibly composed. His dark eyes swept over her calmly, though deep down something flickered—subtle, almost imperceptible. Annoyance? Curiosity? Something else…
The guards nearby stiffened instantly, faces unmoving, eyes straight ahead, clearly terrified of their crown prince. Not a single one dared to breathe out of place.
Maya's stomach twisted. Oh no. Of course it's him. Why is it always him?
Darcy's gaze landed on her, steady and unreadable. Maya realized she had been staring at the swordsmen—and maybe… still had her hands hovering mid-air in embarrassment. She quickly dropped them to her sides, straightening her back.
"Your Highness," she stammered, voice tight. "I… I was just… walking…"
Darcy's lips twitched, almost imperceptibly. "Walking… among swordsmen?" he said, his tone calm, but the faint tilt of his head suggested he was holding back amusement.
Maya swallowed hard. "Yes… I… I didn't mean to disturb anyone! I just… I was curious."
Darcy's eyes narrowed slightly—not in anger, but in careful observation. Then, in a low, quiet voice that carried just enough sharpness to make her freeze, he muttered, "I see you have the habit of going around touching men."
Maya's eyes went wide, and her cheeks flamed red. Wait… what? Did he just…?
He didn't scold her, didn't move toward her, didn't even raise his voice. Yet the slight twitch at his jaw, the faint pull of curiosity in his eyes, made her heart race. Guards remained rigid, tense, and silent, as if Darcy's presence alone had frozen the entire courtyard.
"Return to the path," Darcy finally said, voice calm and unwavering. "Do not linger here."
"Yes, Your Highness," Maya replied quickly, curtsying as best she could, cheeks burning furiously.
As Darcy walked away, tall, confident, and outwardly unbothered, Maya exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to her face. How does he manage to look both terrifying and perfect… and somehow notice me without even saying it?
She decided it was probably safest to follow the rules from now on—and definitely avoid touching anyone else in the palace.
Maya's cheeks still burned as she hurried away from the training grounds, pressing her hands to her face and muttering under her breath. Okay… that definitely did not just happen. Focus, Maya. Focus. Don't trip over the floorboards… or imagine Darcy shirtless again…
The guards she passed kept their distance, eyes sharp, posture rigid, clearly still uneasy from the crown prince's presence. Maya gave a small, awkward smile but moved quickly, trying not to draw attention.
So… Darcy notices everything. Even when he pretends not to. she thought, shaking her head. And he said that thing… about touching men. I mean… wow. Did he just call me out? Or tease me? Or both?
Her mind went over every moment: the swords, the glistening muscles of the young men, the sudden halt in training, Darcy's calm yet piercing gaze. The memory of her hands brushing against one of the swordsmen's abs made her stomach twist again.
Note to self: never… ever… touch anyone again unless you want the crown prince to notice you and your face to burn for a week, she muttered, imagining the absurdity of the situation.
The palace corridors stretched out before her as she walked back, sunlight glinting on polished floors and gilded doors. Every statue, every tapestry, every carved doorway seemed far too grand for someone like her to just wander casually. Yet, somehow, she couldn't stop herself from glancing at each detail, wondering who had crafted it all and what rules she was meant to follow.
She passed a mirror in one of the hallways and paused. The reflection staring back was delicate and petite, with dark hair that fell in soft waves around her shoulders, contrasting with the sturdy, commanding figures she'd just seen on the training ground. She tugged slightly at her corset, wincing again. Ugh… why do these things feel like torture devices?
By the time she reached her chamber, Maya's steps slowed. She leaned against the doorframe, exhaling deeply. I survived the training grounds. Darcy didn't scold me… exactly. Guards didn't throw me out. And somehow… somehow I didn't faint from embarrassment. That's progress, right?
Sitting down on the edge of her bed, she allowed herself a small, wry smile. Next time, though… I'm staying away from sparring men, shiny abs, and crown princes. Or at least… trying.
Despite her attempt to relax, a small part of her mind couldn't stop thinking about Darcy's sharp gaze, the quiet amusement hidden in the tilt of his head, and the subtle flicker of feeling that passed over his face.
Maya's thoughts: Why does he have to make everything so… infuriatingly complicated?
She sighed and leaned back, letting the afternoon sun warm her face. For now, the palace felt overwhelming, intimidating, and slightly terrifying—but she also couldn't deny it was… fascinating.
By the time Maya returned to her chamber, she thought she had narrowly escaped disaster. Her cheeks still burned from the training grounds encounter, and she flopped onto her bed, burying her face in her hands.
Okay… survived. Nobody noticed, right? she muttered.
But news traveled fast in the palace. The maids whispered among themselves, simple words carrying the story:
"The princess… she touched his body."
"I saw it too… right on his chest!"
"She's… so bold."
The queen sat quietly in her chambers, teacup in hand, her eyes drifting over the gardens outside. A faint, calm smile curved her lips as she murmured to herself:
Bold… not like a princess at all. Let's see how she handles herself.
A maid, already attentive and waiting nearby, bowed slightly, and the queen gave a small, imperceptible nod, and the maid immediately understood. Without a word, she left the room, hurrying to fetch Maya.
Maya, still brushing her hair and unaware of the whispers or the queen's thoughts, heard the maid announce her summons. Curiosity pricked at her—what does she want?
She rose from her bed, smoothed her skirts, and followed the maid out of the room, curiosity and nerves tangling in her chest.