Arthur’s POV
The palace felt unusually silent after the evening banquet. The clamor of servants had faded, the last echoes of music and laughter lingering like ghosts in the grand halls. Yet I could not rest. My mind refused to rest. The more I thought about Daniel—the way she moved, spoke, even breathed—the more restless I became.
I had watched her all evening. The banquet had been a success, all thanks entirely to her. All the kitchen chefs had faltered; they lacked the finesse, the ingenuity, the subtlety that Daniel displayed without even trying. And yet, there she was, standing among them like a shadow, unnoticed by all but me.
I wanted to confront her. Not with anger, not with suspicion—but to understand. To gauge her. To feel her.
I found her in the private servant’s lounge, qui
