Soraya's POV
Princess Elowen's chambers were silent when I returned to cleaning.
Too silent.
The curtains were half-drawn, sunlight filtering through pale silk and casting soft patterns across the polished floor. Everything smelled faintly of perfume and candle wax. Nothing was out of place—nothing that needed me.
And yet, here I was.
I moved carefully, folding a throw blanket, straightening a chair that hadn't been touched. My thoughts stayed low and guarded. Finish quickly. Leave quietly. That had become my rule for surviving anything involving Elowen.
My hands moved on instinct alone, muscle memory guiding each motion while my mind catalogued exits, sounds, shadows. Survival had taught me this—how to work while listening, how to breathe while preparing for the worst. Silence was never empty in the palace. It was waiting.
The door opened behind me.
I turned at once and bowed. "Your Highness."
Elowen entered alone.
No attendants. No guards. No Alderon.
