Chapter 5: Alister

"Mother. Father," I greeted as I took my seat at the long dining table. A maid promptly placed a plate before me.

"Alister," my mother acknowledged coolly, her tone as formal as always.

"I heard you spoke with some nobles about the mining territories," my father said, his sharp gaze fixed on me.

Looking up from my plate, I met his eyes. "Yes. Baron Riles and Baron Couplin were disputing over a section of mine land. Both offered the same bid, but the land titles were still under a duke's name who hadn't authorized the sale. The matter has been resolved."

"Good." My father nodded approvingly. Rising from his chair, he dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. "I'll see you both at dinner. I have a meeting."

As he left, my mother gave a faint nod but said nothing. It was always like this—cold exchanges and brittle smiles. My parents hated each other, though they'd never admit it outright. Their union had been one of duty, not love, as they often reminded me. As emperor and empress, their sole obligation was to continue the royal line.

I finished my meal in silence and stood to leave. "Good day, Mother."

Quinton, my ever-dutiful steward, was quick to follow as I exited the dining hall.

"My prince," he began, falling into step beside me, "here is today's schedule."

I groaned inwardly. "Can't we put things off for just one day?"

"You already had an off day, Sire. Two days ago, when you ventured into town," he reminded me.

"Fine. Let's hear it," I said with a sigh.

"First, you must sign papers regarding the tax law revisions. Then, there's a meeting with Duke Hanover. Training with the royal guard follows that, and the evening concludes with a banquet hosted by Duchess Pennington."

Rounding a corner, I came to an abrupt halt. There, among a group of maids, was her. Seraphine.

My chest tightened, and my throat felt suddenly dry. Pulling Quinton back around the corner, I pressed myself against the wall, out of sight.

"Your Majesty? Is something wrong?" Quinton asked, his brow furrowed.

"I... Do I look alright?" I blurted, tugging at my collar and running a hand through my hair.

Quinton gave me a once-over, his professional demeanor unwavering. "You look as handsome as always, my prince."

I groaned, covering my face with one hand. Peeking around the corner, I saw Hilda leading the maids in my direction. My heart thundered in my chest, each beat louder than the last.

Panic overtook me, and before I knew it, I was running down the hall, away from Seraphine. I didn't stop until I reached the safety of my chambers.

Once inside, I leaned against the door, struggling to steady my breath. Mana flared within me, slipping out in bursts until I forced myself to focus and regain control.

Quinton arrived moments later, wheezing as he stepped inside. "Your Highness," he panted, "what... just happened?"

I avoided his gaze, fumbling for an excuse. Spotting my desk, I grabbed the first thing I saw—a quill—and held it up triumphantly. "I forgot my quill!"

Quinton's expression was dubious, but he said nothing. "Very well, Sire. Shall we continue?"

The rest of the day was a tedious blur, made worse by my growing paranoia. Every time we approached a hallway, I had Quinton go ahead to ensure no maids were nearby. By evening, his patience was clearly wearing thin.

"Sir," he said dryly as I signed the last of the documents, "you've been acting rather peculiar today. Is this about the girl, Seraphine?"

I froze, my quill hovering above the paper. "How did you know?"

"I make it my business to know everything about you," he replied, folding his arms.

"Was it that obvious?" I muttered, slumping back in my chair.

Quinton gave me a pointed look.

I sighed. "She doesn't know who I am."

"And you're avoiding her because of this?" Quinton asked, incredulous. "You are the prince of this kingdom. You shouldn't hide from anyone."

"It's not that simple," I mumbled.

Quinton's scowl deepened. "She will find out eventually, Your Highness. Secrets have a way of surfacing."

He wasn't wrong. With a resigned smile, I stood. "You're right."

Quinton's expression shifted to one of alarm. "I don't like that look, Sire. What are you planning?"

"Bring me stable boy clothes," I said, grinning.

"Your Highness," Quinton protested, "this is highly improper—"

"I'll only be gone for a few hours," I interrupted, already imagining the plan in motion. "I'll be back in time to sign whatever else you throw at me."

Moments later, dressed in plain clothes, I barely recognized myself in the mirror. The disguise was perfect. Quinton looked as though he might faint.

"Relax, Quinton," I said, clapping him on the shoulder. "I'll be back before you know it."

Slipping out of my chambers, I moved swiftly through the halls, careful to avoid anyone who might recognize me. It was as though some unseen force guided me, drawing me toward her.

Turning a corner, I saw her at last. She was perched on a ladder, cleaning a high window. The sunlight streamed through the glass, casting a golden glow around her.

She reached forward, straining to dust the last corner, when her foot slipped.

I moved without thinking, rushing forward and catching her just as she fell.

Seraphine gasped, her hands clutching my arms as she looked up at me, wide-eyed.

"It's you," she breathed.