Chapter eight.

Three days gone, and I haven't seen Michael around the palace. Just where is he when I need him the most? He said he'd get me out of this place, so why has he disappeared all these days?

I've been avoiding Prince Arthur with all my might, though it’s nearly impossible since all my duties revolve around him.

Every moment around him feels like walking on a tightrope, and I’m terrified of what might happen if I slip.

Right now, I’m walking toward the knights' quarters to check if Michael has returned. I’m praying so hard that tears start rolling down my cheeks.

I feel helpless.

Running away on my own isn’t an option—not with guards posted at every corner of this place.

"You again? I told you to tell me the problem you have so I can help you instead of him, but you refused," says the nosy knight I always run into when I come looking for Michael.

“Lucky you… he’s back,” he adds, and my heart leaps with hope.

“Where is h—” My words catch in my throat as Michael steps out of one of the doors. Relief floods through me, and I rush to him, throwing my arms around him. Tears pour out uncontrollably, but I don’t care.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice filled with concern.

I can barely speak.

He leads me to a quieter area, away from prying eyes, and I finally blurt out what’s been weighing on me. The rumors have spread throughout the palace—that I’m trying to seduce the prince to make him fall in love with me.

"Madin…"

“It’s bad!” I cut him off. “I need to leave this place now. You promised to get me out of here!”

"What happened? The last time I told you I would get you out, you didn’t seem like you wanted to leave. Is it because of the rumors?"

“He... he said he has fallen in love with me,” I say, my voice shaking. The words feel strange leaving my mouth. How will Michael take this—me talking about another man’s love for me?

“What!?” Michael’s shock is evident. "You’re joking, right?"

“Why would I joke about something like that? I’m not lying. He really did!”

“Okay, how? How does this even happen? Did he…? No, tell me this is a joke, Madin.” He stares at me like he’s trying to read my soul. “Are you really trying to seduce him, like people are saying? Are you forgetting you’re a man after wearing a dress for a month?”

“Really, Uncle Michael? You’re the last person I expected to say such a thing to me!” I step back, feeling my heart sink deeper into despair.

“Wait, Madin, look, I’m sorry. I’m just shocked, okay? With everything people are saying… I just blurted it out. Besides, I’ve never heard of him wanting a relationship with his servants. So why now?”

“So you really think I’m seducing him?” I ask, tears running freely now.

“No, I’m sorry,” Michael says, his tone softer. “I didn’t think before I spoke. If this is the case, then we need to act fast, Madin. Even if you don’t want him, if he wants you, it won’t matter. He’s the prince. Whether you like it or not, he’ll have you. Tonight—meet me at the dungeon. It’s behind the main mansion. Security isn’t tight there since there are no prisoners right now. Go there before curfew, and I’ll—"

Michael stops suddenly, his eyes darting to a guard approaching us.

"You are needed in the presence of His Highness. He wants to see you immediately," the guard says, his gaze fixed on me.

I hesitate, glancing at Michael. He nods subtly, silently urging me to stick to our plan.

My heart pounds as I walk toward the prince’s chambers. My mind spins with scenarios—what will he say? What will he do? If he brings up his feelings again, I’ll ask for more time. Tomorrow is my only chance to escape, and I pray our plan works.

I knock on the door, and he opens it himself without a word.

"I know you’re worried, scared, angry, and all that because of the rumors,” he begins. “But you don’t have to be anymore. No one will talk about it again. The person who started them is already facing the consequences in the dungeon."

My heart sinks. Someone’s in the dungeon? What does that mean for Michael and me?

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“I’ve already asked you to stop calling me that, Maya. Why are you still doing it? Does this mean you’re still rejecting me? I don’t know why, Maya, but I refuse to believe you feel nothing for me. There must be something else making you push me away. Tell me—what is it?”

What if I told him the truth? That I’m not Maya, but Madin? What if I just let it all out and let them end my life? Wouldn’t that be easier? I’m so tired. Tired of pretending, tired of running, tired of this cursed life. Maybe death would bring the peace I’ve never known.

I’m lost in my thoughts until I feel his hand on my cheek. His touch is warm, soft, and disarming. I’ve been avoiding him, avoiding this moment, because I know I’m powerless against him. My body betrays me every time he’s near.

Before I can react, he steps closer, his hand steady but gentle, tilting my face toward his. His gaze locks onto mine, and for a moment, the world around us falls away.

"Tell me you don’t feel the same way about me," he whispers, his voice low, almost pleading.

I open my mouth to say it, to end this torment, but the words won’t come. My lips tremble, and I feel the weight of his eyes on me.

"Look at me and say it," he urges again. "If you do, I’ll let you go."

This is my chance. Just say it, and I’m free. Yet, as I stare into his eyes, the words refuse to leave my lips. It’s as if they’ve vanished, swallowed by the storm of emotions raging inside me.

But I try in every way possible, "I... I don't, fee..." My words get stuck when suddenly his lips land on mine.

"Am sorry I can't let you say it." He says after parting our lips, millimetres away.

Staring back at them, I literally watch him lean in again and I don't fight it.

Light at first, as though giving me the chance to pull away. But I don’t. My breath catches as the kiss deepens, warm and steady, carrying a tenderness that catches me off guard.

My body moves on its own. My hands, trembling with a mix of fear and something unnameable, reach up to his shoulders. His touch is firm yet careful, as though I might shatter if he presses too hard.

Breathing becomes hard as he makes it, I find myself pulling back unconsciously for some air but he doesn't let me go. His eyes still closed he finds my lips again, more insistent, holding me more firmly.

When he becomes short of breath too because I can tell he is, he pulls back just millimetres away.

When he tries to walk me to his bed, reality suddenly hits me. I stop , trying to move away from him but still he won't let go. He stops when he realises that am not moving with him.

"You didn't resist the kiss." He says as if to clarify something.

My heart races, and I can’t tell if it’s from fear, anger, or something far more dangerous.

"I don’t know what you’re trying to prove," I say, forcing my voice to stay steady.

"I’m not trying to prove anything," he responds. “I just know what I feel. And I know you feel it too, even if you won’t admit it."

“No,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “You’re wrong. I don’t… I can’t…”

He doesn’t push further, but his silence speaks volumes. The weight of his gaze lingers on me, and I feel exposed, as though he can see every secret I’ve tried to bury.