**Chapter Ten: A Prince's Absence**
Three days.
That was how long Lorenzo had been gone. And in those three days, the palace had twisted into something colder, something sharper. It was like watching a sleeping beast awaken—sluggish at first, then snapping its eyes open to devour.
The walls whispered louder in his absence.
I sat alone in the winter garden, the one tucked between the royal chapel and the west wing library. The roses had withered, trimmed too late in the season. The fountains had stopped flowing. Only the birds remained—silent observers perched in the bare trees.
I traced a line on the stone bench with my gloved fingers, trying not to think of him.
But I missed him.
I hated that I did.
Lorenzo, with his cruel eyes and commanding voice, his possessive grip and unreadable moods—he had become a strange kind of gravity. His presence filled rooms. His absence hollowed them.
Even the guards seemed on edge without him. They snapped to attention more often. Bowed deeper. Whispered faster when they thought I wasn't listening.
And I was always listening now.
At breakfast, no messages came from him. At lunch, the Queen Mother sent a decanter of southern wine to my table, untouched by her lips but heavy with implication. By dinner, I could feel it in the air: something was moving.
Something dangerous.
"Elira," I said that evening as I changed into a soft blue gown. "Have you heard anything?"
She paused while adjusting my cloak. "The servants say he's near the border. That he traveled with only five guards."
"Why would he go with so few?"
"To keep things quiet. Maybe to avoid making it look like a military move."
"Or maybe," I murmured, "because he doesn't trust anyone."
She didn't answer that.
* * *
That night, I left my chambers after curfew.
I wrapped myself in a dark shawl and took the service staircase down to the kitchens. The fires were dying, but the warmth lingered. Cook's apprentices were asleep in corners, their faces smudged with flour. The smell of roasted apples still hung in the air.
I wasn't here for food.
I was here for ears.
At the far end of the kitchen, in a room behind the wine cellars, the low-ranking servants gathered after hours. They played dice, whispered gossip, and sometimes—if no guards were near—sang songs too bold for court.
I knocked once, then pushed open the door.
Silence greeted me.
All six men inside froze, eyes wide. One dropped his cup.
I lowered my hood.
Their panic softened into awe. And then… fear.
"Your Highness," one whispered.
"I'm not here to punish anyone," I said quickly. "I just have questions. And you… you have answers."
They exchanged glances. The oldest among them, a wiry man with one eye, stood slowly.
"What do you wish to know?"
"Prince Lorenzo. Where is he?"
He hesitated, then shut the door behind me.
"They say he's meeting with the Vetra clans."
"The rebels?"
He shook his head. "The old families. Those who stayed neutral during the civil war. Their loyalty's been questioned for years, but they control the western passageways. If they close their roads, the crown can't move troops freely."
"Why meet them now?"
"Because someone's threatening to unite them under a new banner. A hidden crest. They say… the Thorn Circle is making its move."
The name sent a chill down my spine.
"They tried to recruit me," I confessed.
He looked surprised. "You refused?"
"I burned the letter."
He gave a slow, approving nod. "Then you might survive this court after all."
I looked around the room.
"Does Lorenzo know?"
"Not fully. But he suspects. That's why he left. He's trying to sniff out the truth before it swallows the kingdom whole."
I exhaled, a slow, unsteady breath.
"Thank you," I said, and turned to go.
Just before I stepped out, the man added, "They won't stop with whispers, Princess. If the Thorn Circle truly walks these halls, you'll need more than bravery. You'll need allies."
"I'll find them," I said.
"I hope so. For your sake—and his."
* * *
I returned to my chambers with a letter waiting on my pillow.
Unsealed. Unmarked.
But not unexpected.
> "He is not alone.
> He never was.
> And neither are you."
No name.
But beneath the words was a pressed flower—black hyacinth.
The flower of betrayal.
I showed it to no one.
* * *
The next morning, I was summoned to the Queen Mother's solar.
Elira tried to protest.
"She never meets anyone unannounced."
"I wasn't asked. I was commanded."
The solar was at the top of the South Wing—warm, perfumed, filled with light from dozens of tall windows. The Queen Mother sat at her embroidery table, threading gold silk through crimson cloth.
She didn't look up as I entered.
"Sit."
I obeyed.
After a long silence, she spoke.
"The kingdom is cracking."
I waited.
"Do you know what keeps it whole?"
"Fear?" I offered.
Her lips curved slightly. "Exactly."
She finally looked at me.
"And now fear is fading. The Thorn Circle is awakening. Whispers reach my ears faster than yours ever will. Do you know why I summoned you?"
"No."
"Because you are a weakness. And I intend to find out if you can be turned into a weapon instead."
I met her gaze.
"You don't think I'm strong enough."
"I think," she said, voice softening, "you remind me of myself when I was seventeen. Smart. Afraid. Surrounded by liars."
"Did you survive?"
"No," she said. "I became someone else."
She stood, smoothing her gown.
"You have one chance, Princess. Choose your side. And don't be fooled—this is no longer about love. Lorenzo is the throne. But you? You are the storm that will either defend it… or destroy it."
I rose, spine straight.
"Then I will become what this kingdom fears."
She smiled.
"Good."
* * *
Later that night, I stood on the balcony of my room, staring into the dark.
I didn't know when Lorenzo would return. I didn't know if I could trust anyone left in this palace. But one thing was becoming clear—
If I waited for someone to save me, I would drown.
From now on, I would be the tide.
The storm.
The serpent behind the silk.