Chapter 8 – Shadows in the Garden
450 Words
The moonlight bathed the palace gardens in silver, the flowers shimmering like jewels scattered across an emerald carpet. Amara walked along the stone path, her bare feet silent against the cold marble. She had escaped her room again — partly to breathe in the night air, partly to escape the suffocating tension between her and the prince earlier that day.
But she wasn’t alone.
From the shadows of the ancient oak tree, a deep voice emerged.
“You wander the gardens at night too often, princess.”
She froze.
It was him.
Prince Lucien stepped into the light, his hair catching the moon’s glow, his sharp jawline outlined by the faint silver hue. His crimson eyes watched her with that same unreadable expression he always wore — part annoyance, part curiosity.
“I needed air,” she replied, tilting her chin up. “Not that it’s your business, Your Highness.”
A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “Everything in this palace is my business. Including why my future bride is sneaking around barefoot like a ghost.”
Amara crossed her arms. “Maybe I like being a ghost. Ghosts don’t get cursed.”
That caught his attention. He stepped closer, his boots silent on the path. “You’ve been hearing rumors again.”
“Rumors? Oh no, not just rumors,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’ve heard plenty of stories about your last three fiancées, and spoiler alert — none of them lived to wear the crown.”
Lucien’s eyes darkened. “Careful, Amara.”
She forced a laugh. “Oh, what? Are you going to curse me next? Or maybe—”
He moved so fast she barely saw it — one moment he was three steps away, the next his hand was gripping her wrist, pulling her closer until she could see the faint glow in his eyes.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said softly, dangerously.
She swallowed hard but refused to look away. “Then tell me. Explain why people think marrying you is a death sentence.”
For a long moment, he just stared at her — as if deciding whether she deserved the truth or the comfort of ignorance.
But instead of answering, he released her hand and turned away. “Go back to your chambers, Amara. The garden isn’t safe at night.”
She blinked. “And you are?”
He stopped walking.
Without turning back, he said, “Less safe than the garden.”
And then he was gone, disappearing into the shadows as if he had never been there.
Amara stood frozen, heart pounding, unsure whether to be afraid… or intrigued.
- Writer
