EdwinaThere was something going on with Justice lately—something subtle but undeniable. For the past few weeks, he’d been… different. Quieter. Quicker to act on my words, whether or not I added a please. It was like he’d quietly slipped into a role I hadn’t asked him to play, doing whatever I wanted without question.It reminded me of Steven—how he used to treat me like I was fragile, like I’d shatter if I carried a chair or opened a door by myself. I hated that. Hated how Steven made me feel like I was some breakable glass doll. But with Justice…With Justice, it didn’t feel the same. His protectiveness wasn’t overbearing—it felt thoughtful. Warm. Like he noticed things and responded to them before I even asked. And for reasons I couldn't explain, I didn’t mind.Actually, I did more than not mind. I liked it.God, am I losing my mind?The fluttering in my stomach had started recently, and today it was in full force—like someone had set butterflies loose with nowhere to go. I used
StevenAs soon as I stepped out of the palace gates, the humid breeze of Havindelle wrapped around me, thick with the scent of roasted suya drifting from the nearby food stalls set up along the roadside. In the distance, the faint voices of traders closing up shop still echoed through the evening air. I walked slowly, each step deliberate, letting the weight of what had just happened sink in.Princess Miranda is hooked.Not entirely, not yet—but she’s curious. Curious enough to ask questions. Curious enough to feel something.And curiosity, I’ve learned, is how obsession begins.I followed the narrow footpath that ran past the row of mango trees just beyond the palace fence, then turned onto the road that led back toward town. In the distance, I could hear the shrill laughter of children playing with old tires, the steady hum of a generator coming from the betting shop at the corner, and the echo of a church bell ringing out the call to evening prayer. I wasn’t ready to go home yet.
StevenIt didn’t take a genius—let alone a rocket scientist—to figure out that Princess Miranda was interested in Justice. Anyone with half a brain could see it. Everyone in Havindelle knew she’d turned away every noble, prince, and merchant who had dared ask for her hand in marriage. Too poor. Too ugly. Too boring. None of them had ever been good enough for Her Royal Highness. And yet, somehow, Justice—the mysterious newcomer with haunted eyes and a past no one could quite place—had caught her attention.So what exactly did she see in him?That question annoyed the hell out of me more than I cared to admit. Justice wasn’t royalty, he wasn’t rich, and as far as I knew, he had no lands or titles. So what did Miranda see in him? That disheveled hair? That brooding expression? Or maybe it was those stormy gray eyes that every girl seemed to find "mysterious."I didn’t care what her reasons were.Truthfully, I didn’t.All I cared about was keeping him away from Edwina. If Miranda's litt
Maximillian We reached the palace gates just before noon. The heat clung to my skin, and the sun had begun its ruthless climb overhead. The guards barely looked up as they checked our manifest, waving us through with a bored flick of the hand. Either they trusted Matthias’s name, or they didn’t see two farm hands as much of a threat.I sat stiffly in the truck as we rolled past the towering walls and manicured hedges, the grandeur of the palace pressing in from all sides. My stomach was a tight coil of nerves—not because I feared being found out, but because I hated being watched. Places like this always had eyes. Too many.A palace staff boy—no older than thirteen—darted over and pointed us toward the back service entrance near the kitchens. The scent of roasting meat, baked bread, and hot oil hit me before I even stepped out. A flurry of maids, chefs, and kitchen hands bustled about like bees around a hive. Judging by the pace and the shouting, some kind of banquet was brewing.
Maximillian Two days later, Mr. Matthias handed me the delivery sheet with the royal crest stamped at the top—golden ink and all. The Palace. That wasn’t just another delivery; it was the delivery. One of the most important ones we’d had in a while. Automatically, I felt a weight settle on my shoulders. It meant a long trip into town and a truckload of fresh poultry and slaughtered pigs—cleaned, wrapped, and packed with more care with more care than I’d ever seen Matthias give to anything—human or animal. He’d even wiped the corners of the crates himself. That said a lot.The old man might not have been good with words, but he understood that a royal contract could feed the farms for the next six months.I stepped out toward the truck, squinting under the morning sun, and spotted Steven leaning against it, a bottle of water tipped at his lips like he was modeling for an advert. He spotted me and smirked—that slow, condescending kind of smirk that suggested he knew something I didn
Maximillian It was clear as day—black and white, no room for misinterpretation. Steven-whatever-his-surname-was—hated me. The kind of hate that simmers under polite smiles and stiff nods. He didn’t need to say it out loud; I could feel it in the way his eyes lingered just a second too long on me, or how his jaw tensed whenever Edwina laughed at something I said.The air around him practically sizzled with the heat of his disdain. And I knew exactly why. All because of Edwina.The one girl we both liked—unfortunately.I’d told myself I was here to lay low, keep my head down, do the work, don’t get involved, and build a quiet life under the radar. But the truth was, my mission blurred every time she looked at me with those thoughtful brown eyes—calm, but always searching. She had this gentle resilience about her that tugged at places in me I thought I’d sealed off for good.And of course, Steven noticed.He wasn’t subtle about it. Suddenly, Edwina was sent on errands the moment I wal