A Dangerous Game

The halls of the palace shimmered in the candlelight, the air thick with the scent of jasmine and freshly polished stone.

It was late.

Far too late for Isolde to be wandering alone.

Yet here she was.

Her heart pounded as she crept along the dim corridor, hands clutching the edges of her cloak. Every step echoed in the silence, a dangerous rhythm against the cold marble floor.

She had no reason to be here. No excuse.

And yet—

She was drawn forward.

By him.

She turned a corner—

And there he was.

Lord Cedric.

Standing alone on the balcony, his golden hair catching the moonlight, his sharp, aristocratic features unreadable as he gazed over the kingdom.

Isolde swallowed hard.

She should leave.

She should.

But instead—

"My lord," she said softly.

Cedric turned, his deep green eyes locking onto hers.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, slowly, he smiled.

"Isolde."

The way he said her name—smooth, effortless, almost teasing—sent a shiver down her spine.

She stepped forward, her pulse quickening. "I—I did not expect to see you here."

Cedric tilted his head, amusement flickering in his gaze. "And yet, here you are."

Isolde swallowed. "I was only passing through."

Cedric chuckled. "Passing through the most secluded part of the palace? At this hour?"

Heat crept up her neck.

She had no response.

None that would sound convincing, at least.

Cedric leaned against the stone railing, watching her. "Tell me, Isolde… do you often wander in the dark?"

Her fingers curled into the fabric of her dress. "Only when I'm restless."

His gaze flickered with something unreadable. "And what troubles you so deeply?"

Isolde hesitated.

How could she tell him?

That he was the reason?

That she lay awake at night, thinking of the way his hand lingered when he took hers in greeting?

Of the way he smiled at her when no one else was looking?

Of the way she ached for something she knew she could never have?

She cleared her throat. "It is nothing."

Cedric hummed, unconvinced. "A shame. I quite enjoy hearing your thoughts."

Her heart stumbled.

A gust of wind rushed through the balcony, carrying the scent of night roses and sea salt.

Cedric took a step closer.

Isolde's breath hitched.

He was near. Too near.

She could see the faint scar along his jawline, the way his lashes cast delicate shadows against his cheek.

He was perfect.

And he was not hers.

Not when his fiancée, Lady Eleanor, waited for him in the grand halls of court.

Not when she, Isolde, was nothing more than Eva's maid.

Cedric reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Isolde froze.

His fingers lingered—just for a second—before trailing down to her jaw.

Her skin burned.

"You should be careful, Isolde," he murmured. "People will talk."

She exhaled sharply. "Then why—"

"Why am I here?" He smirked. "Why do I let you linger?"

Isolde's throat tightened.

"Yes," she whispered.

Cedric studied her.

Then—

"Perhaps," he murmured, "I enjoy the way you look at me."

Her stomach flipped.

"That's cruel," she whispered.

Cedric's smirk deepened. "Is it?"

His hand dropped away.

And just like that—

The moment was gone.

Cedric turned back to the view, his expression unreadable.

"You should return to your chambers," he said lightly.

As if nothing had happened.

As if he hadn't just set her entire world on fire.

Isolde clenched her fists.

He was toying with her.

Leading her nowhere.

And yet—

She would still come back.

Every time.

---

Elsewhere in the Palace…

Tobias paced the training yard, frustration simmering in his chest.

He had seen her.

Isolde.

Disappearing down the halls, her expression far too eager.

And he knew exactly where she was going.

Or rather—who she was going to.

His grip tightened around the wooden practice sword.

"Still brooding?"

Tobias turned sharply.

Lucian stood nearby, arms crossed, his usual smirk in place.

"I'm not brooding," Tobias muttered.

Lucian raised a brow. "Oh? Then why do you look like you're about to murder someone?"

Tobias scowled. "It's nothing."

Lucian hummed. "Ah, yes. 'Nothing.' The very same 'nothing' that makes you clench your jaw whenever Cedric is in the same room as Isolde?"

Tobias shot him a glare. "Shut up."

Lucian laughed.

But his amusement didn't last long.

Because at that very moment—

Eva entered the courtyard.

Her hair was slightly windswept, her lips pursed in thought.

And she looked troubled.

Lucian's smirk faded.

Something about the way she carried herself—stiff, defensive—made something in his chest tighten.

He had seen that look before.

And it never meant anything good.

---

Meanwhile, in the Great Hall…

King Aldric lounged on his throne, absentmindedly swirling a goblet of wine.

A slow evening.

Boring, almost.

His mind drifted—

Until a voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Your Majesty."

Lord Magnus.

Aldric's eyes flicked up, instantly alert.

Magnus stepped forward, a slow smile on his lips.

"News travels fast in the court," Magnus said smoothly. "I hear your daughter has been… wandering."

Aldric's expression remained unreadable. "She is young."

Magnus inclined his head. "Of course. And yet…" He let the words hang. "Perhaps she requires more… supervision."

Aldric set his goblet down. "Say what you wish to say, Magnus."

Magnus smiled. "Only that the court is watching."

Aldric held his gaze.

Something shifted between them.

A quiet warning.

A silent battle.

Magnus bowed. "I bid you goodnight, Your Majesty."

And with that, he disappeared.

Aldric exhaled, his fingers drumming against the throne.

He knew Magnus was up to something.

But for now—

He would wait.

And watch.

---

Back in Isolde's Quarters…

Isolde collapsed onto her bed, her heart still racing.

She pressed her fingers against her lips, as if trying to trap the feeling inside.

Cedric.

He was not hers.

And yet…

She wanted him anyway.

Even if it ruined her.