Caroline barely slept that night.
Even with the heavy silk curtains drawn, she could hear the murmurs of the palace below—guards patrolling, servants whispering, the echoes of tension thick in the halls. The rebellion was no longer a distant threat. It was here. And they wanted her dead.
She sat by the fireplace in her chambers, staring at the flames as if they held answers.
Casimir had left the dungeons without another word, his expression unreadable. She had expected him to argue against sparing the prisoner. Instead, he had simply looked at her—looked through her—and then given the command.
What had he seen in her at that moment?
She exhaled sharply and stood, pacing toward the open balcony doors. The Summer Palace glittered under the moonlight, its golden spires standing against the darkness. It was a breathtaking sight—a kingdom of warmth and fire.
And yet, danger lurked in its shadows.
A movement below caught her eye.
A figure, cloaked in black, slipped between the hedges of the lower gardens, disappearing into the night.
Caroline's heart quickened.
She turned from the balcony, grabbing her cloak. If Casimir wouldn't give her the full truth, she would find it herself.
The corridors of the palace were empty at this hour, save for the occasional guard stationed by the doors. Caroline moved swiftly, keeping to the shadows, her slippered feet making no sound on the marble floors.
She made her way down the back stairwell, slipping into the gardens unnoticed. The cool night air wrapped around her, thick with the scent of blooming jasmine.
She scanned the pathways. Where had they gone?
Then—a flicker of movement ahead.
Caroline darted behind a pillar, her breath tight.
The cloaked figure stood at the farthest edge of the gardens, near a low stone wall that separated the palace grounds from the surrounding forest. They exchanged hushed words with another figure—one she couldn't quite see.
A drop of fear curled in her stomach.
A traitor inside the palace.
She needed to move closer.
Carefully, she stepped forward, using the shadows for cover. She could just make out the whisper of voices—
Then—a hand closed around her wrist.
She whirled, a gasp escaping her lips—
"What in the name of the gods are you doing?"
Casimir's voice was a low, with a furious growl.
Caroline's pulse pounded as she met his blazing amber gaze.
"I could ask you the same thing," she shot back, trying to yank free.
His grip held firm. "Following unknown figures into the night? Alone? Are you mad?"
"I saw something suspicious—"
"And what, you thought you'd handle it yourself?" His voice was thick with disbelief.
Caroline scowled. "I've handled worse."
Casimir's jaw tightened. His gaze flicked past her—to where the cloaked figures had stood. But they were gone now, lost to the night.
He cursed under his breath.
Then, before she could react, he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her flush against him as he turned them both behind the cover of a pillar.
Footsteps approached.
Caroline tensed, but Casimir's arms remained firm around her, shielding her from view.
The guards passed without a glance.
Only when the silence stretched did Casimir finally release her—but not before leaning in just slightly. His breath was warm against her ear.
"If you want to live to see morning, wife," he murmured darkly, "you will stop sneaking around in the dark."
Caroline swallowed hard. Her heart was hammering for reasons that had nothing to do with fear.
Casimir pulled back, his gaze lingering. Then he turned, motioning for her to follow.
"We're going inside. Now."
Caroline clenched her jaw—but obeyed.
As they walked back toward the palace, she cast one last glance over her shoulder.
The figures were gone. But the danger?
It was only getting closer.