Alina's heart pounded in her chest as she slipped into the outer halls of the imperial palace. She hadn't meant to come this far—her goal had only been to blend in among the servants moving between the market and the palace kitchens. Yet, somehow, she had found herself beyond the thresholds meant for commoners, pulled by the whisper of fate.
The hallways were vast, their ceilings towering above her, lined with columns wrapped in gold and red silk. Intricate paintings adorned the walls, depicting celestial dragons, victorious battles, and the divine right of the ruling dynasty. The soft murmurs of courtiers echoed in the distance, their refined tones starkly different from the hurried chatter of servants.
Alina swallowed hard. This was dangerous. If she were caught here without reason, without a name, she would be thrown out—or worse.
A group of noblewomen passed by, their laughter delicate and restrained. Alina quickly lowered her head, stepping aside as they drifted past her, their long silk robes whispering against the polished floor. She glanced at herself—despite Madam Jia's simple servant's disguise, the fabric still felt foreign on her skin. Would they know she did not belong?
Her breath hitched as she caught sight of something ahead—an open courtyard, bustling with life. Court officials in flowing robes debated fervently, their hands gesturing toward a large map unfurled on a low table. Eunuchs moved swiftly between them, carrying scrolls and ink-stained brushes, their presence unnoticed by the elite. And beyond them, standing near the raised dais, was a group of armoured soldiers, their weapons gleaming under the sunlight.
A glimpse of power. Of the empire's core.
And then, she saw him.
At first, he was merely a shadow among nobility, positioned slightly apart from the others. Yet, even from a distance, Alina could feel his presence. He stood tall, his broad shoulders draped in dark silk embroidered with crimson and silver, the fabric exuding understated authority. His stance was still, calculated—like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.
Prince Sheen.
The moment she saw him, something inside her twisted—an unfamiliar ache, an unspoken recognition. He turned slightly, and the afternoon light caught the sharp angles of his face. His black hair, slightly tousled, framed piercing eyes that held no warmth. His expression was unreadable, a mask of control and quiet detachment.
As if sensing her gaze, his head tilted slightly in her direction.
Alina's breath hitched. For a single, unbearable moment, she thought he had truly seen her—that his gaze had cut through the layers of fate and illusion to lock onto hers. But before anything could happen, a call from an official demanded his attention. His gaze shifted, his expression unchanged.
Relief flooded through her, followed quickly by something else — disappointment?
"Lin Mei!" A sharp whisper yanked her from her trance.
Alina turned abruptly to see a palace servant standing nearby, her eyes wide with warning. "What are you doing here? This is no place for kitchen hands!"
Alina quickly bowed, mimicking what she had seen others do. "I—Forgive me. I got lost delivering food."
The woman narrowed her eyes but seemed to accept the excuse. "Foolish girl. Get back before someone important sees you." She gestured sharply toward the servant corridors.
Alina did not need to be told twice.
With one last glance toward the powerful figure standing in the courtyard, she slipped away, her heart still hammering in her chest.
She had seen him — the man tied to the destiny she did not yet understand.
And though he had not truly seen her, she knew with certainty:
This was only the beginning.