The one who notices

Chapter 23 – The One Who Notices

Seraphina bolted through the marble hallway, her silk slippers whispering against the floor. Her fingers clutched her face, desperate to muffle the sobs clawing at her throat. Her chest burned, her breath came in uneven bursts.

"Seraphina!" a voice rang out, firm and unmistakable.

She froze mid-step.

Slowly, she turned. Her tear-stained gaze met a pair of golden-brown eyes calm, composed, yet quietly searching her face.

Prince Damiar.

Her lips quivered. Embarrassed, she turned her face from him and wiped her cheeks with trembling hands.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice as distant and cool as ever. But Seraphina had known him long enough to catch the subtle undertone quiet, careful concern, tucked beneath his neutral mask.

"I'm fine," she said quickly, offering a brittle smile. "Just tired, that's all."

"You don't look fine," he said, stepping toward her. The marble underfoot didn't even register against the heaviness of her thoughts.

"It's… mother," she murmured, eyes lowering to the polished floor. "But it's nothing."

"If it were nothing," he said, watching her, "your tears wouldn't be falling like this."

She hesitated. Then slowly looked up.

There was something grounding in Damiar's presence. He didn't pry. He didn't rush. He simply stood, calm and resolute, like the eye of the storm. She could fall apart quietly in front of him, and he would not flinch.

"I'm leaving the kingdom for a few days," he said suddenly. "Is there anything you want me to bring back?"

Seraphina blinked in surprise. "You always bring something. You've already given me so many things…"

"Then one more won't hurt," he said simply, voice smooth but firm.

She let out a soft laugh, startling even herself. "There are far too many things I want, Prince," she teased, her tone lighter. "You might need an entire scroll."

"Then write one," he replied, turning to leave. "I'll wait for your list."

She watched him go, warmth creeping back into her chest. Her fingers reached for a nearby side table, rummaging for parchment. For the first time that morning, her heart felt just a little less heavy.

Ravena sat on her bed, legs crossed, hunched over her worn notebook. Its spine was cracked, the cover faded a secret keeper hidden beneath her pillow each night. But the words wouldn't come today. They floated in her mind like tangled threads, resisting form.

A knock interrupted her silence.

She frowned. "Thalia, I said no interruptions."

The door creaked open.

A woman entered tall, poised, her black gown glinting faintly in the morning light. Raven locks were pulled tightly from her face, lips painted in bold crimson.

"Princess Ravena," she said with a smooth bow, "Her Majesty invites you to the royal breakfast."

Ravena lifted her head slowly. "I wasn't expecting that. Fine. I'll be there shortly."

The attendant bowed once more and retreated.

Ravena sighed, closing the notebook with more force than necessary. Whatever peace she'd hoped for was gone.

By the time she emerged into the hallway, sunlight poured through the stained glass windows, casting fractured colors along the floor. The palace always looked beautiful when her mood wasn't interfering.

In the dining chamber, the royal table gleamed silver dishes, linen napkins, glistening fruits. The King sat at the head, expression unreadable, fork lifting slowly to his lips. Prince Damiar was to his left, face a stone mask, sipping from his crystal goblet. Seraphina sat next to her mother, fidgeting with a slice of bread, her eyes downcast.

Across from them sat the Queen elegant, composed, and unnerving.

"I've invited the humans to breakfast," she said, cutting a pear with perfect precision.

The King paused mid-chew. "Why?"

"They're our guests, aren't they?" the Queen replied, smiling faintly. "We should make them comfortable."

Damiar didn't blink. His goblet lowered, his silence louder than any response.

Moments later, the doors opened and Solana entered with her mother. They bowed respectfully.

"Good morning, my King. My Queen," they said.

The Queen nodded, eyes trailing them as they took their seats.

Solana kept her posture tight, her eyes flickering from face to face. Her instincts told her this was more than breakfast.

"Where's the other girl?" the Queen asked coolly. "Ravena, wasn't it?"

"I… I'm not sure, my Queen," Solana replied, voice laced with forced diplomacy.

The door swung open again.

Ravena strode in, head held high, posture defiant not arrogant, just unwilling to shrink.

"Good morning," she said.

The Queen's smile widened, though it didn't reach her eyes. "How lovely to see you, Ravena. How have you been?"

"I'm well, my Queen," she answered politely, settling into the empty chair.

But even as she spoke, her heart clenched with unease. Everything about this arrangement felt wrong. Too orchestrated. Too polished.

And as she glanced around the table Damiar's still face, Solana's tense fingers, Seraphina's silent sadness the feeling only deepened.

Something was shifting in the palace.

And someone was watching.