MORRIS
The garden, at twilight, looked like something from a dream—a memory woven of silver and shadow.
Fragrant moon vines curled lazily along white trellises. The air was cool and sweet with the scent of blooming night-thorns, but there was something… wrong.
Stillness.
A silence that didn't belong to the peaceful hush of evening, but to the kind of quiet that follows a scream no one hears.
Elowen sat curled on the edge of a marble fountain, her skirts twisted in her lap, eyes distant. The world felt far away. The sky above her was growing darker, and still, she could not breathe freely.
Sadie sat beside her with a nervous glance at the winding garden paths. Selene had left earlier with Jeria for a brief meeting with Princess Xyril—but Sadie's instincts told her this was no ordinary stroll.
"You're too quiet," Sadie said after a long pause. "Quieter than usual."
Elowen didn't respond.
"I know that look," Sadie continued, her voice softer now. "I wore it myself the day I first arrived here. Right before I realized I was not meant to survive this place."
Elowen finally turned toward her, confusion lacing her expression.
Sadie hesitated, then set the teacup down with deliberate calm. Her voice dropped a note lower, nearly a whisper.
"Princess Selene left for a brief meeting with Princess Xyril. Jeria went with her, so we're alone. Which means I can tell you the truth."
Elowen looked up, her heart giving a traitorous skip.
Sadie leaned forward, elbows on her knees, eyes sharp and sincere.
"Elowen… have you heard that you're the topic in everyone's mouth?""Even the great princesses are talking. Whispering. Asking: Why would Prince Derek summon a common maid after the trials? Why you?"
Elowen's breath caught.
So that was it. The stares. The sideways glances. The sudden chill in the hallways. She had felt it but hadn't known what to call it.
"I thought they were just… judging me," she said quietly. "Mocking me."
Sadie shook her head. "They're not mocking. They're planning."
The words hit like cold water.
"Almost everyone is plotting against you," Sadie continued, her voice barely audible. "Selene. Jeria. Five others from the North Hall. I even heard one mention poison—but I don't think that part was serious. Yet."
Elowen shivered.
Not from the cold.
From the terrible, suffocating realization that she was alone in a den of fanged royalty. She didn't belong here. And now everyone knew it.
"What am I supposed to do?" she asked, her voice breaking. "I didn't ask him to summon me. I—I didn't even want to be noticed."
Sadie reached out and clasped her hand.
"You were noticed, Elowen. And now they're scared of you."
There was a long, trembling silence between them, until Elowen's voice dropped even lower
"Sadie…"
Sadie looked around. No one in sight.
Then she leaned closer, her voice barely more than a whisper.
"You need to leave, Elowen. Tonight. Before nightfall."
Elowen's chest tightened. "Leave?"
"Selene has ordered something. Something she's calling a quiet removal."
Elowen's heart stopped. "What—what does that mean?"
Sadie's voice broke slightly. "It means she's planning to kill you. Quietly. Probably in your sleep."
The world tilted beneath her feet.
"She wouldn't—she saved me once," Elowen whispered.
Sadie's eyes were fierce. "She's not the same girl who found you by the riverside, Elowen. And you're not the same girl she rescued."
Elowen stood suddenly, pacing the edge of the fountain.
"But where would I go?" she breathed. "I have no one. Nothing."
The past clawed its way out of her mouth like a wound torn open.
"Ever since my parents died, I've been running. My uncle told the villagers I killed them. That I poisoned them with witchcraft. That I cursed our land. They tied me to a pole in the square—like an animal. I still remember their faces."
She touched her chest. Her voice trembled.
"The way they looked at me. Like I was something monstrous."
Her eyes burned. "I should have died that day. I don't even know how I escaped. It's all a blur. One moment they were lighting the torch, and the next—I was in the forest. Bleeding. Alone."
She turned back to Sadie, voice breaking with disbelief.
"And then Selene found me. Took me in. Gave me a name. Gave me safety. And now—she's the one sharpening the knife?"
Sadie didn't answer. She didn't need to.
Elowen laughed bitterly through the tears. "How do I explain to them that I don't want the prince? That I never asked for Derek to look at me? I didn't even know he knew my name until he summoned me. I'm not a threat. I'm just—"
Her voice cracked.
"I just wanted to be left alone."
The silence between them grew heavy. A sorrow settled over Elowen, but beneath it—something else began to stir.
Anger.
Grief.
Something older.
She sat back down, trembling hands pressed to her face.
"He left me too."
Sadie looked up. "Who?"
But Elowen shook her head, voice distant now, bitter and hollow.
"No one."
Because she couldn't say his name. Wouldn't.
Morris.
Ever since he confronted her—cold and possessive and furious—he had disappeared.
No whispers in the shadows.No teasing glances through mirrored glass.No marks burning on her skin.No voice in her sleep calling her little dove.
"I tried calling for him," she said to herself. "With the mark. With blood. With desperation. But he's gone. And I don't understand why."
Sadie placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Elowen…"
She straightened, brushing away tears.
"He marked me like I was his. Changed me. Made me feel—different. Like something was waking up inside me. And then he left. What did he expect me to do? Refuse the crown prince? For what? For a ghost?"
She stood, fists clenched.
"He added to my curse. And now he's hiding from me. Maybe it's better this way."
Sadie took a breath, reached for Elowen's hands.
"I don't know what you've been through. Not really. But I know one thing. You don't deserve to die in this place."
Elowen stared at her.
"But why are you helping me?" she asked quietly. "You're Selene's maid. You've always stood by her. Why betray her now?"
Sadie smiled softly. There was a flicker in her eyes—too knowing for comfort.
"Someday," she said, "when the winds have shifted and the masks have fallen, we'll talk about that."
She pressed a wrapped bundle into Elowen's hands. "Clothes. A hood. Bread and water. Go as far as your legs will take you. Don't stop. Don't speak to anyone. I'll cover your absence for as long as I can."
Elowen nodded, unable to speak through the lump in her throat.
Sadie led her through the empty halls, down the back staircase of the princess quarters, and into a narrow corridor behind the greenhouse wall.
"This path leads out the east gate," she said. "No guards post there after dusk."
Elowen turned, eyes wet. "Thank you."
Sadie touched her cheek. "Run. And don't look back."
Then she disappeared into the darkness.
Elowen walked fast. Then faster.
Each step felt like the cracking of ice beneath her feet.
Her mind swirled—memories of fire and betrayal, the warmth of Morris's hands, the frost in Derek's eyes, the hollow sting of being noticed when she only ever wished to disappear.
She should have been an ordinary maid. Just another shadow.
But Morris had seen her. Touched her. Marked her.
And now she was hunted.
She reached the stone archway near the eastern gate, breath quick and ragged, heart pounding—
"Stop."
The voice was like ice.
Elowen froze.
Ten palace guards emerged from the shadows, each one heavily armored. Their chests bore a dark sigil—a single tear, etched in silver.
Her stomach turned.
That crest belonged to Princess Zarith—one of the wealthiest and most merciless among the contenders.
The one who hated her most.
"You shouldn't be wandering after dusk," one guard said coldly. "You've been summoned."
Her breath hitched.
Summoned.
But not by the King. Not by any court.
This was an execution call.
They were going to kill her. Quietly. Like Sadie warned.
She backed away.
"Don't run," the guard warned, stepping forward.
She ran.
She darted through the garden maze, skirts snagging on brambles, heart thundering.
Behind her—shouts. Steel boots. Wolfs barking.
They were hunting her like prey.
And in her mind, she screamed one name—not aloud, but into the night, into the dark places where she knew he might still be listening:
Morris, please…I'm going to die.
But the only answer was the wind.
Until—
From the darkness ahead…A tall figure stepped from the shadows.
Cloaked in black. Motionless.
Waiting.
And for the first time since the mark faded, Elowen's skin burned.