Her heart was pounding.

  Zora didn’t dare glance back. Her footsteps echoed softly down the corridor as she turned the first corner and disappeared from view, breath catching in her throat.

  She hadn’t meant to be walking by. She had just finished slipping out of her hiding spot in the dining hall and was trying to return unnoticed. But of course, he had to be there. Him.

  Prince Cole.

  The very person whose mind she had foolishly tried to enter not even an hour ago.

  He hadn’t recognized her. That was the only relief she had. The way he looked at her—sharp but dismissive—told her he thought she was just a servant. A harmless girl in a plain dress.

  But there had been a flicker in his expression. Brief. Calculating. She couldn’t tell if he’d sensed something or if she was just paranoid.

  Zora turned another corner and finally exhaled. Her hands were still trembling as she leaned against the cold stone wall.

  That could’ve gone so badly.

  She replayed the moment in her mind—how his gaze narrowed, how her voice nearly cracked. If she had hesitated even a second longer, or if her fear had shown more clearly—

  No. She couldn’t afford to spiral.

  “Wine,” she whispered to herself, pushing away from the wall. “Just get the wine and go back. That’s it.”

  She knew where the wine cellar was. Sort of. She had overheard the servants talk about it more than once. It was somewhere in the lower west wing, past the kitchens and near the storage halls. If she could just walk like she belonged and keep her head down, she’d be fine.

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  Don’t run. Don’t panic. Don’t think.

  Zora kept walking, her pace steady, trying to quiet the thoughts that buzzed in her head. She needed to stay focused. Complete the task. Get back before anyone started asking questions.

  This wasn’t over.

  She could feel it.

  Zora found the wine cellar faster than she expected.

  She grabbed a bottle that looked decent enough—dark label, dusty, probably strong—and wiped it clean with her sleeve. Tucking it under her arm, she tried to keep her grip steady as she made her way back through the halls.

  Her thoughts were all over the place.

  What if he could tell she wasn’t a real servant?

  What if he was already suspicious?

  Just drop it off and go. That’s it. Simple.

  As she got closer to the room, she slowed down. Voices were coming from inside. The door wasn’t all the way shut.

  Zora paused, staying close to the wall just beside it. She didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Not really. But their voices were clear—and the words stopped her cold.

  “He’s hiding something,” Cole said. “Maybe not from us. Maybe not on purpose. But no one invites us into their palace like this unless they’re playing a game.”

  Kael’s voice came next—calm, unreadable. “Or unless they’re desperate.”

  Zora held her breath.

  “Desperation makes people stupid,” Cole muttered. “And dangerous.”

  Another pause. Then Kael again: “You’re assuming it’s the king.”

  Silence.

  “Who else would it be?” Cole said. “He’s the only one with something to lose.”

  Zora’s stomach twisted. Her grip on the bottle slipped just a little—her hands were sweating, and her mind was going a million directions at once.

  And then it happened.

  The bottle slipped from under her arm.

  It hit the floor.

  Shattered.

  The crash echoed like a warning bell down the hall.

  Zora froze, wide-eyed.

  She didn’t even have time to run.