"I heard something I shouldn't have," Yorick said quietly, without lifting his gaze from the stone mortar in his hands.
Josselyn did not turn right away. "In this palace, almost everything is something we shouldn't hear."
Yorick exhaled. "The Crown Prince is in a rage."
"I already heard."
"All day."
"And?"
"He drove out all the servants."
"That's nothing new."
"He threw plates at the wall."
Josselyn paused, her hands stilling over the small bottles she had been arranging. "Plates?"
"And vases. And chairs."
"Excessive."
"He hasn't eaten."
This time, Josselyn turned. "He hasn't eaten?"
"Not since morning."
Josselyn resumed tidying the table. "That's his problem."
Yorick finally lifted his head. "He keeps saying one name."
Josselyn went still.
"Yours."
Silence stretched for several seconds.
All Josselyn could hear was the rapid pounding of her heart. She remembered the moment Killian had gripped the back of her neck and stolen her breath.
She straightened her spine instinctively.
Is he going to tell everyone about the kiss? she thought, biting her lower lip. Of course he isn't that foolish.
She cleared her throat, forcing calm into her voice. "It doesn't mean anything."
Yorick raised one brow, studying her with suspicion.
"Doesn't it?" Yorick stepped closer. "If his health were poor, he should be calling me. If he's hungry, the palace chefs are ready to prepare anything. Or perhaps Darius. He's the one who can calm the Crown Prince best. But instead, he calls for you."
Josselyn shrugged at Yorick's long analysis. "Maybe he wants to know about the Queen's condition. He's confined to his room, and I am the alchemist assigned to her."
"Is that so?"
Josselyn lifted her chin, though her eyes wavered slightly. "Or maybe the Crown Prince is just irritated."
"Irritated?" Yorick smiled faintly. "Irritation doesn't make someone destroy half their room."
He reached out and took Josselyn's hand before she could step back. His touch was warm.
Josselyn met his gaze. She realized then that everything about Yorick felt warm and gentle, even his moss-green eyes.
"Be careful," Yorick said softly. "Don't get too close to him."
Josselyn felt the warmth from his hand rise to her cheeks. "You say that as if I intend to."
"I'm just saying, he is not a safe man to stand close to."
"I'm not afraid."
"That's what worries me."
Josselyn slowly pulled his hand away. "I need to deliver the potion to the Queen."
Yorick nodded, not stopping her. "Don't let him see you alone."
Too late, Josselyn thought. He already stole my first kiss and maybe something else that matters.
She said nothing. She simply picked up a small tray of vials and left.
~
That night, the palace corridors felt quieter than usual.
She had just left the Queen's chamber when someone nearly ran into her.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Miss." The young servant was out of breath. Beside him stood a serving cart filled with dishes covered by domed lids bearing the royal crest.
"What's wrong?"
"The Prince, he…" the servant swallowed. "He smashed his meal again."
"Again?"
"I have to get back to the kitchen. The head chef will kill me if I'm late."
The servant pushed the cart toward Josselyn.
"Miss, I know this is improper, but could you bring this in? Just leave it inside. Don't get too close."
"I don't…"
"Thank you." The servant had already run off before she could finish.
Josselyn stared at the cart in front of her. "Unbelievable."
She glanced around, hoping to find someone to take her place. No one.
With a sigh, she set her tray beneath the cart, then reluctantly began pushing it forward.
As she neared the door, she noticed someone standing in front of the Crown Prince's chamber.
"Darius?"
The man stood straight, his hands clasped behind his back.
"You were forced into this too?" Josselyn asked as she approached, her expression brightening slightly at the thought that he might share her predicament.
Darius looked at the cart, then at Josselyn's face. "No."
"Then?"
"I want to make sure he doesn't hurt anyone."
"And?"
"He won't listen to me."
"So you've been standing here all day?"
"Waiting for him to tire himself out."
Josselyn blinked. She had not expected it. Darius, the Captain of the Knights, broad-shouldered and powerful, his muscles visible beneath his doublet, was so unwaveringly loyal to the Crown Prince.
He could easily restrain him if he wanted to, she thought, suppressing a smile at the image.
"Are you going in?" she asked.
Darius paused, then shook his head. "No."
"Why?"
His gaze softened slightly. "Because he didn't call for me."
Josselyn swallowed. "That doesn't mean…"
"I know what it means." Darius stepped aside. "Go in."
"And you?"
"I'll stay here."
"Waiting?"
"Guarding."
Josselyn stared at the door for a few seconds. A low growl came from inside, followed by the crash of something hitting the floor.
Reluctantly, she knocked.
No answer.
She knocked again.
Silence.
She pushed the door open slowly.
The first thing she noticed was the mess.
Chairs overturned. Fabric torn. Shards of porcelain scattered across the floor.
"Your Highness…"
A shadow moved quickly.
Something flew toward her.
Josselyn ducked on instinct, a reflex honed from years in her uncle Count Edmund's house.
A ceramic vase shattered against the wall beside her.
A sharp fragment grazed her forehead.
"Ouch…"
Silence.
No shouting.
No further outburst.
Only slow footsteps against the floor.
Josselyn looked up. Killian stood a few steps away.
His gaze fell on the thin line of red at her temple.
She winced as the sting began to pulse.
Josselyn glanced at him. He's just standing there? Not even trying to help?
Killian did not move. He said nothing. He simply watched her.
"Your Highness," Josselyn said softly, holding back the pain. "That was rude."
She stepped closer.
Slowly.
"Who told you to come in?" his voice was low.
"Your servant ran away."
"You can leave."
"You haven't eaten."
"I'm not hungry."
"Everyone says you haven't touched anything since the council meeting ended."
Killian was silent for a few seconds. "That's not your concern."
He raised his hand, brushing the blood at her temple with his fingertips.
Josselyn flinched and slapped his hand away. "Don't."
"Stay still."
"I can treat it myself."
"Of course you can." He took her hand and guided her to sit on the only sofa left intact in the corner.
He picked up a clean cloth from the overturned table. "But I was the one who threw it."
"I'm good at dodging," Josselyn said lightly. "A skill I've had to learn. This is nothing, Your Highness. Back home, it wasn't just fragile things. Sometimes even wooden chairs."
She said it as if it were nothing.
Killian narrowed his eyes. "Back home? Who did that?"
Slowly, Josselyn lifted her face, meeting his gray-blue eyes as they began to change.
"Say his name," Killian repeated, his voice low.
That was when Josselyn realized she was no longer facing the man who had been raging.
She was facing someone ready to destroy anything that threatened what was his.
"N-no one, Your Highness."