Chapter 13
The palace was unusually quiet without the seventh prince's presence. His mission had stretched longer than expected, and though no one mentioned it, she felt the absence keenly. She moved through the training hall with practiced care, her pale tunic fluttering against her weak frame. Even now, with her strength slowly returning thanks to the new trainer, she missed the silent guardian who had always watched over her.
"Good morning," the new trainer greeted, his smile easy and warm as he approached with a tray of water and fruit. "Ready for personal training?"
She nodded, trying to ignore the gnawing worry at the pit of her stomach. "Yes… I'm ready."
Her best friend appeared immediately, arms crossed. "Are you sure about this? You shouldn't let him—"
"I'm fine," she interrupted gently. "I need the training."
The session began with light sparring. He guided her posture, corrected her timing, and even teased her when she stumbled. "Watch your footing," he said, smiling faintly. "Almost fell again. You're lucky I'm here."
"I'm trying!" she laughed, her pale cheeks warming.
The third prince lingered at the edge of the hall, quiet as always, observing. Occasionally, he offered a small comment, a rare smile, or a nod of approval. His presence was subtle but steady, a reminder that she was being noticed by more than just her trainer.
Later, while eating a simple lunch in the courtyard—fresh fruit, bread, and spiced chicken—the conversation drifted naturally.
"You're getting stronger," he said, breaking a slice of bread in half. "I can tell you're taking the training seriously."
"I have to," she replied softly. "I can't rely on anyone else… not really."
"You're not as weak as you think," he said quietly. "Trust me. You've improved so much in just a few weeks."
Her friend frowned, muttering under her breath, "Don't let him flatter you too much…"
But she ignored the comment, focusing on the warmth of the sun, the faint scent of lavender clinging to her tunic, and the small sense of safety that came from being around someone who genuinely cared.
During an afternoon exercise, the older trainees began whispering among themselves.
"Did you see her?" one scoffed. "The orphan's getting… attention. This isn't fair."
"She's just weak," another added. "She doesn't belong here."
Their jealousy only fueled her determination. Every time she stumbled, every small failure, she reminded herself that survival depended on wit, timing, and allies. And she had a few of both now—her trainer, her friends, and even the quietly observant third prince.
When the training ended, she sat under the cherry blossom tree, sharing an orange with her trainer. "You're really improving," he said, leaning slightly closer. "I think this new regimen is working."
She smiled faintly, nibbling at the fruit. "Thanks… I just wish someone else were here too." Her voice dropped, almost a whisper, but he noticed.
"Who?" he asked gently.
She shook her head. "No one… it's nothing." But her eyes betrayed her worry, the silent longing for the seventh prince who had been gone far too long.
As the sun dipped behind the palace walls, shadows lengthening across the courtyard, the day ended with laughter from other trainees, staff tidying tables, and the faint but steady presence of the third prince lingering nearby, silently observing, quietly intrigued by her resilience.