The morning sun in Everiven is usually pale and cold, but inside the Sun Tower, the light always feels a little warmer, as if the walls of this room retain the residual heat of its inhabitants.

  Mira stood in front of a large mirror, wearing her Veinara Academy uniform. A dark blue blazer with a silver emblem, a stiff white shirt, and a knee-length gray skirt. This outfit felt unfamiliar after three days of being wrapped in silk and lace palace gowns. This outfit was her old armor, her identity as an ordinary student.

  However, the reflection in the mirror looked different. There were faint circles under her amber eyes. Not because of lack of sleep, but because of the mental burden that had accumulated. Last night's events—the explosion of the crystal chandelier, Anne's cries, and Arlen's panic—still spun in her head like a broken tape.

  Mira reached for her bow tie. Her fingers moved slowly, trying to make a neat knot. But her hand stopped. Her mind drifted to the moment when Arlen had hugged her under the rain of broken glass. The heat of his body. His racing heartbeat. The pure fear in his eyes—not fear of death, but fear of losing Mira.

  A knock on the door. Soft. Hesitant. Not Anna's knock. Not the maid's knock.

  Mira knew who it was. Her heart responded before her brain could command it to calm down.

  “Come in,” Mira said softly.

  The door opened. Prince Arlen stood there.

  He wasn't wearing his royal robes. He wasn't wearing his crown or military insignia. He was only wearing black trousers and a loose white linen shirt with the top button undone, revealing a hint of his collarbone. His golden hair wasn't neatly styled as usual; strands fell naturally across his forehead, making him look five years younger. He looked like a young man in his twenties, not a feared ruler.

  In his hands, he carried a small silver tray. Two steaming cups of coffee and a plate of warm croissants.

  “The servants were afraid to knock on your door,” Arlen said, smiling awkwardly. It was a smile that didn't reach his tired eyes. “They thought you were still traumatized from last night's lamp incident.”

  Arlen entered, closing the door behind him. “So, I took over their duties.”

  Mira turned completely around. She saw the tray in the Prince's hands. An absurd sight. A Runerre serving breakfast.

  “You didn't have to do that, Arlen,” said Mira.

  “I want to,” Arlen placed the tray on the small table near the balcony window. “Sit down. You need caffeine before facing that boring history professor.”

  Mira sat down in the chair. Arlen sat across from her. They were close. The aroma of coffee mixed with Arlen's body scent—a citrusy fragrance and a hint of warm, masculine musk.

  Arlen didn't drink right away. He stared at Mira, scanning her face with an intensity that made Mira feel naked even though she was wearing a layered uniform.

  “You're not hurt,” Arlen muttered, more to himself than to her. “I checked last night, but I had to make sure again this morning.”

  “I'm fine, Arlen. No scratches,” Mira raised both hands, turning them slowly. “Your shield is perfect.”

  Arlen sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping. He looked down at his black coffee. “Anne... she didn't mean it. She's just a child holding a weapon that could explode at any moment in her hands. She likes you, Rhea. That's the problem. When she gets excited, her energy overflows."

  Mira looked at Arlen's hand holding the cup. The tips of Arlen's fingers were white. Her nails pressed into the ceramic cup. There was a slight tremor there. Not the tremor of illness like Arith's, but the tremor of suppressed emotion.

  Mira plucked up her courage. She reached across the table and placed her hand on Arlen's clenched fist. Arlen's skin was hot. Always hot.

  “I don't blame Anne,” Mira said softly. “And I don't blame you.”

  Arlen looked up. His electric blue eyes met Mira's amber ones. There was a painful vulnerability there. “You should have run,” Arlen whispered hoarsely. “Iva ran. Elodie walked away. Any sane person would run from a family that could blow the roof off during dinner.”

  Arlen turned his hand over, now clasping Mira's. His fingers slipped between Mira's, locking them in a tight grip.

  “Why are you still here, Rhea? Why are you sitting here drinking coffee with me, when you know I'm dangerous?”

  The question pierced Mira's chest. Why? Because of her mission. Because she had to find the truth. But this morning, that answer felt incomplete.

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  Mira let her thumb stroke the back of Arlen's hand. A small, soothing gesture. “Because the storm needs a place to return to, Arlen,” Mira replied. Her voice was no longer acting. It was the honest voice of a heart that was beginning to crack. “And I'm not afraid to get wet.”

  Arlen's eyes widened slightly. He stared at Mira's lips, then back at her eyes. He pulled Mira's hand toward his lips. He didn't kiss the back of her hand like a nobleman would. He kissed the inside of her wrist. Right above her pulse.

  His lips were hot. His breath tickled the sensitive skin there. Mira's heart was beating so fast that she was sure Arlen could feel it on his lips.

  “You'll be late for the Academy,” Arlen muttered, but he didn't let go of Mira's hand. He still pressed his cheek against the palm of her hand, closing his eyes for a moment as if absorbing the calm.

  “I still can't tie my tie,” Mira said softly, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere.

  Arlen opened his eyes. He smiled slightly. He let go of Mira's hand and stood up. He walked around the table and approached Mira. Mira stood up reflexively.

  Arlen picked up Mira's uniform tie, which was still tangled around the collar of her shirt. “Let me help you,” he said. “I used to tie Arith's tie before his hands... before he got sick.”

  Arlen stood very close. The tips of his shoes touched the tips of Mira's shoes. He began to tie the tie. His movements were quick, skillful, and very gentle. Mira had to look up slightly to see his face.

  This distance was dangerous. Mira could see the pores on Arlen's skin. She could see his long golden eyelashes. She could feel the heat of his body seeping through Mira's thin uniform.

  Arlen worked in silence. His concentration was divided between the knot of the tie and Mira's presence so close. His knuckles occasionally touched Mira's neck accidentally. Each touch sent a tingling static electricity signal, making Mira hold her breath.

  “Done,” Arlen whispered.

  But he didn't back away. His hand remained on the collar of Mira's shirt, smoothing it slowly, as if reluctant to break physical contact. His thumb moved up, tracing the line of Mira's jaw.

  Mira was frozen. She couldn't move. She didn't want to move. Arlen's eyes drifted back to Mira's lips. His gaze was hungry, yet restrained. The gaze of a man who wanted to possess, yet feared to break.

  “You're beautiful in this uniform,” Arlen said hoarsely. “You look... normal. Real.”

  “I am normal, Arlen. You're the one who's forgotten what it feels like to be ordinary.”

  Arlen chuckled, his breath brushing against Mira's face. “Take me with you,” he said, half-joking, half-desperate. “Hide me in your book bag. Take me out of this tower.”

  Mira felt a sharp pang of guilt. Arlen, the Prince of Thunder, was begging to be taken away like a child who didn't want to be left behind while his mother went to work.

  Mira raised her hand and placed it on Arlen's chest. She could feel his heartbeat. Strong, but irregular. “You have a kingdom to run, Your Highness,” Mira said softly, pushing him gently—very gently. “And I have a history exam.”

  Arlen sighed, giving in. He took a step back, giving her space. The cold immediately rushed into the gap between them, making Mira long for the warmth again.

  “The carriage is ready below,” Arlen said, putting his princely mask back on a little, though his eyes were still soft. “The shadow guards will watch over you from afar. No one will bother you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Mira picked up her book bag. She walked toward the door. As she reached for the doorknob, she paused. She turned back.

  Arlen was still standing in the same spot, next to the table with the coffee that was starting to get cold. He stood in the middle of a ray of sunlight, but he looked so... alone. A majestic, powerful figure, and yet completely isolated.

  Mira felt an impulsive urge. She walked back. Quickly. She stood on tiptoe and kissed Arlen's cheek. Briefly. Lightly.

  Arlen startled, freezing in place.

  “Tonight,” Mira whispered in his ear. “Don't eat alone. Wait for me.”

  Then Mira turned and ran out of the room, her face flushed, her heart racing like a wild horse.

  ***

  Arlen stood frozen in his room for a full minute. His hand was raised, touching his cheek—where Mira's lips had landed earlier. His skin still tingled. Not from electricity, but from something much stronger.

  He walked to the balcony. Below, he saw Mira running toward the royal carriage. Her uniform dress fluttered in the wind. The girl entered the carriage.

  Arlen smiled. A wide, foolish, and completely sincere smile. A smile his people had never seen. The wall of ice in his heart wasn't just cracking. It was beginning to melt.

  “Rhea,” he whispered to the morning breeze.

  Behind him, a shadow in the corner of the room shifted slightly. Not a servant, not a guard. But something older and darker was watching from behind the mirror. But Arlen was too happy to notice.

  ***

  Inside the carriage.

  Mira leaned her back against the soft seat cushion. She closed her eyes, clutching her chest. Her breathing was irregular.

  “You kissed him.” Anna’s voice came from the empty seat in front of her.

  Mira opened her eyes. Anna was sitting there, eating the rest of the croissant she had stolen from Arlen's tray before they left. “That... that was a strategy,” Mira protested weakly. “To make him believe.”

  “Strategy,” Anna chewed with her mouth full. "Miss, I'm a hired killer, not a love expert. But I know the difference between a strategic kiss and an impulsive one. That was impulsive."

  “Shut up, Anna.”

  “You feel sorry for him,” Anna swallowed her food, her face turning serious. “You saw him tidying your tie, you saw him lonely, and your heart melted. You forgot that he is the head of a family obsessed with storms.”

  “He doesn't want to be like that!” Mira snapped. “He's a victim of fate, just like me!”

  Mira fell silent, startled by the tone of her own voice. She was defending Arlen. She was defending her target.

  Anna stared at Mira for a long time. The “ghost” girl's gaze was sharp and emotionless. “Be careful, Rhea,” Anna said, addressing her without the title Miss. "A knife dulled by feelings won't be able to cut a throat. And if you can't kill him when the time comes... Someone else will. And they won't hesitate, even if you try to stop them."

  Anna disappeared—fading away until she seemed to blend into the train seat.

  Mira looked out the window. The Sun Tower rose high in the distance. She could imagine Arlen still standing there, touching her cheek, waiting for dinner.

  Mira looked down at her academy uniform. She wanted to be an ordinary student. She wanted Arlen to be an ordinary man who helped her tie her tie. But the world wasn't that kind.

  Mira closed her eyes again. The sweet moment of this morning was over. Reality bit back.