Authors Note: I realized that this did not match the second chapter, so it has changed a bit and i will be updating the other chapters

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The palace was a gilded prison. Amiya fucking hated it. Every hallway was lined with expensive tapestries, chandeliers that glittered like stars, and enough silken fabrics to make a damn fortune, yet none of it mattered. Behind the luxury was a suffocating weight of expectation that she could never escape. Every smile, every greeting, every appearance—it was all for show, and she was the centerpiece.

Her room, while grand, felt more like a carefully crafted display of wealth than a place she could actually live in. The wardrobe was packed with gowns, each one more extravagant than the last. Bookshelves filled with unread volumes of ancient knowledge. Everything in it screamed perfection, but none of it felt real to her. It wasn't her life; it was someone else's.

She stood in front of her mirror, her reflection staring back at her with silver hair cascading over her shoulders and violet eyes that always looked like they were studying something or someone. People said she was beautiful, a perfect princess, but all she saw was a person trapped behind a mask.

A knock at the door broke her thoughts.

"Come in," she said, her voice flat, already knowing who it would be.

Liora stepped in, her hazel eyes filled with that mix of care and duty that Amiya had come to resent. "The council meeting, Your Highness," she said softly, glancing at the door as though hoping it would magically open and whisk them away.

Amiya rolled her eyes. "Of course they do."

Her father was always parading her around like some fucking jewel. His meetings, his plans, his endless speeches about alliances, politics, and power. She was expected to sit quietly and smile, but never contribute. Never matter.

Liora hesitated, sensing the shift in Amiya's mood. "Should I accompany you?"

Amiya just sighed. "No. I can manage on my own."

Liora nodded, her concern still obvious, but she didn't argue. "Be careful, Your Highness."

The words didn't comfort Amiya anymore. She was beyond caring. She gave a short nod and left the room, her footsteps echoing in the grand hallways. The air felt thick tonight, almost like something was lurking, ready to jump out. She shook it off as a passing feeling.

As she walked, something felt… wrong.

Her instincts kicked in, her gaze darting from shadow to shadow. The hallways were eerily quiet, and the sound of her footsteps was the only thing breaking the silence. That was when she heard it—a soft sound, almost too quiet to hear, but there nonetheless.

Footsteps.

They were slow, deliberate. Not the usual shuffle of palace servants or guards, but the kind of footsteps that suggested someone who knew exactly where they were going. Amiya's fingers instinctively brushed the hilt of the dagger she kept hidden beneath her gown. She wasn't stupid. She wasn't a helpless princess.

She made her way toward the source of the sound, the faintest hint of adrenaline sparking her veins. The door ahead was slightly ajar. Another step forward, and she was at the threshold.

The room was filled with darkness, the only light coming from the moon that filtered in through cracks in the old wooden shutters. Dust and forgotten relics were scattered around—a place that had clearly been abandoned for years.

And there he was.

A man, dressed in dark clothes, moving with a grace that came from years of practice. He was too calm for a thief—too sure of himself. His eyes caught hers before he even moved, and for a moment, they just stared at each other.

Amiya didn't flinch. "Who the hell are you?" Her voice was icy, demanding. She wouldn't be intimidated by some common thief.

The man didn't seem fazed in the slightest. He smirked, his green eyes gleaming in the dim light. "Didn't think anyone came in here."

Her hand moved instinctively to her dagger. "You're trespassing."

He didn't even look at her weapon. Instead, he casually surveyed the room, his expression almost bored. "So are you."

Amiya's eyes narrowed. She wasn't here to play games. Her gaze flicked to the pendant in his hand, the sapphire glinting in the dim light. It was just one of many expensive things the royal family hoarded—nothing special, just a piece of jewelry among countless others. But it didn't belong to him.

"That doesn't belong to you," she said sharply.

He chuckled, twirling the pendant between his fingers. "Neither do most things in this place." His grin widened. "The royal family's claim on them is pretty fucking debatable."

She stepped forward, her voice low and dangerous. "Put it back."

He met her eyes, amusement dancing in his. "And if I don't?"

The air between them was thick with tension. Amiya didn't back down, her eyes locked onto his with a fire in them that could burn the whole fucking palace down.

The thief only grinned wider, clearly enjoying the challenge. "Relax, sweetheart. Just passing through."

Before she could make a move, he was already turning toward the window. "Don't even think about it," he called back, his voice low and mocking. It was a warning. But she wasn't stupid; she knew it was over. The moment he slipped into the night, it was done.

In one smooth motion, he threw the window open, and the night air rushed in. Amiya barely had time to react as he slipped through the opening, vanishing into the shadows like the ghost he was.

With one last glance at the empty room, she turned and walked away. The council meeting was waiting, but a part of her couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter wasn't over. Not by a long shot.