Chapter 10
The palace was unusually quiet that morning. Even the cleaning staff moved with extra care, polishing marble floors to a perfect sheen, their soft brushes whispering over the stones. The smell of fresh bread and roasted meats drifted faintly from the catering tables, where staff arranged each plate with meticulous precision. She lingered by the courtyard fountain, the thin fabric of her pale blue tunic doing little to shield her from the morning chill. Her lips were dry, and her pulse raced—not from excitement, but anticipation.
Her friend caught up to her, cheeks flushed from running. "They've set something new," she whispered. "Something… secret. The older trainees are hiding it, but it's meant for you."
Her stomach sank, but she kept her expression neutral. She had learned long ago that revealing fear invited attack. She adjusted her tunic, the lavender scent faint but comforting, and glanced at the fruit seller arranging oranges near the fountain. Even he seemed aware that something unusual was about to happen, though he offered her only a quick, reassuring nod before disappearing behind a column.
The hall doors opened suddenly, and Arlen and two other rival trainees appeared, smirking. "Let's see how the little orphan fares today," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. Behind him, the staff watched with careful detachment, knowing any mistake could escalate the chaos.
The first task of the day was deceptively simple: retrieve a series of tokens hidden throughout the hall. But this time, traps were more intricate, the paths obscured by furniture, ropes, and carefully staged obstacles. She moved cautiously, noting every shadow, every glance, every subtle hint from staff and friends alike.
She stumbled near the catering table, knocking a tray of honeyed pastries. A maid's sharp voice startled her. "Careful!" the young woman hissed, steadying the tray before it could fall. She gave a quick, grateful nod. Even in this tense environment, small acts of kindness reminded her that not everyone was an enemy.
Arlen blocked her path again, sneering as he lunged forward. She dodged, relying on careful timing rather than strength, her body weak but her mind sharp. The seventh prince observed from the balcony, cold and still, his dark eyes calculating every step. He made no gesture, spoke no word, but the subtle positioning of a loose mat gave her just enough footing to avoid a hidden pit.
Meanwhile, other trainees jockeyed for tokens, forming temporary alliances, whispering strategy, and occasionally betraying one another. The staff moved invisibly among them, clearing obstacles or correcting hazards, adding an unseen layer of challenge. Her friend whispered instructions from a nearby column, while Len, the quiet boy, created a minor distraction, drawing the attention of one of her rivals.
By mid-morning, she had secured three of the five tokens, each success a testament to timing, observation, and careful calculation. She was shaking, pale, and barely able to stand, yet her mind raced faster than anyone else's. Every glance from Arlen reminded her of the stakes, every whisper from staff hinted at hidden advantages.
Finally, the last token was almost out of reach, perched atop a small pedestal guarded by a rival trainee. She crouched, her fingers trembling, when a shadow fell across the hall. The seventh prince had moved—without breaking his cold composure, without ever showing concern. A carefully placed obstacle toppled, drawing the guard away. She seized the moment and retrieved the token.
The hall erupted in whispers, some impressed, others suspicious. Her friend ran to steady her, while staff quietly cleaned the mess left by the trials. Arlen glared, fuming, as the other trainees whispered about the "fragile orphan who had survived again."
From his distant perch, the seventh prince's gaze remained unreadable. Cold, calculated, and distant, he had subtly influenced the outcome without ever showing himself. And in that quiet observation, he recognized something new: despite weakness, sickness, and ridicule, she had the one thing many lacked—survival instinct honed to perfection.
As night fell, candles flickered along the hallways, casting shadows that danced like whispers. The palace seemed alive with secrets, rivalry, and unspoken rules. And somewhere in the darkness, the seventh prince waited, silently plotting the next challenge, knowing the games had only just begun.