The sun filtered through the tall windows, casting golden patterns on the stone floor. The castle had fallen into a lull—caught between the duties of the day and the festivities that would follow.
Rishe walked alone, holding a folder of notes against her chest, her thoughts occupied by preparations for the evening’s ball. Her mind was sharp, focused—until she rounded the corner and found him waiting.
Raul.
Disguised in a knight’s uniform, helm tucked under one arm, he leaned casually against a marble pillar like he belonged to the shadows. Only his red eyes gave him away—sharp and familiar.
"Lady Rishe," he greeted, his tone smooth with just the edge of something warmer.
She paused but didn’t look surprised. "Sir knight. Or should I say, your highness?" she teased.
He smirked faintly. "I'm not prince Curtis anymore."
She smiled—tightly. “What brings you here?”
He pushed off the stone pillar with a lazy smirk, sauntering over. “You’re difficult to catch alone these days.”
“And yet, here we are.” She said.
Walking beside her, he said softly “I wanted to see how you're doing.”
"I’m well," she replied simply.
They walked in silence for a few steps before Raul turned to her his voice low, almost thoughtful, “You truly do shine in these halls. I said it before, didn’t I? Prince Arnold is… incredibly lucky.”
Rishe’s pace didn’t falter, but her eyes flicked to him. Her expression was unreadable, carefully neutral. “You’ve said that before, yes.”
“I keep finding new reasons to mean it.”
She raised an eyebrow, her voice dry. “Jealous, Raul?”
There was a glint in her eyes, teasing—but his response was quiet, serious.
“Yes.”
That silenced her for a beat.
Raul stopped walking. She did too, slowly turning to face him. He watched her with something intense in his eyes—not longing, not desperation. Just quiet, honest weight.
“The offer I made you,” he said, “when I was still Prince Curtis... it still stands.”
She didn’t answer right away.
He stepped in just enough that she could feel the warmth of him. His hand lifted, slowly, carefully—fingers reaching toward a strand of her hair, but—
“Don’t,” she said softly.
He stopped, his fingers hovering just inches from her face.
“I can’t offer you luxury,” he said quietly. “Not palaces or power. But I would give you everything I have. If you said the word, Rishe—if you wanted to leave—I would take you with me. Tonight. No questions.”
Her heart thudded in her chest, not because of temptation, but because of the way he said it. Like a vow, gentle and fierce.
But she shook her head.
“I love Prince Arnold,” she said. “I don’t want to leave. I’m looking forward to becoming his wife.”
Raul closed his eyes for a moment, as if those words cost him breath. When he opened them again, there was a softness behind his stoicism.
“I know,” he said.
“And you deserve someone who chooses you freely,” she added, her voice quieter. “Not someone already taken.”
He gave a short laugh, more exhale than humor. “Maybe. But knowing you exist has ruined me for everyone else.”
Rishe didn’t know what to say to that.
So she didn’t.
After a long pause, Raul exhaled, a humorless chuckle escaping him. “That’s the thing about shadows, princess. They follow you even when you don’t want them to.”
She touched his sleeve briefly, not affectionately, but kindly. “Then step out of them.” And turned away to continue down the corridor. His gaze lingered on her, remembering—how she flushed at Arnold’s compliments, the way her eyes sparkled in his presence, how she’d laugh just from the way Arnold looked at her.
He stayed there long after she left, armor still and silent, carrying words he couldn’t unsay.
