Catherine froze at Prince George's question. She opened her mouth, but she couldn't find the words. Her mind raced through shame, panic, and dread as she braced for the moment when he says he remembers everything.

But before she could muster a reply, George's frown deepened, and he clarified, "One of the stewards said there was some trouble with the kitchen staff about you being late on duty."

Catherine's heart nearly gave out in relief. She nodded awkwardly, trying to hide her fluster. He doesn't remember, not the kiss, not their bodies tangled together, not the trembling after.

Then, her relief turned to disappointment. Was she hoping maybe...?

"Oh," she managed to say, struggling to keep her tone light. "Um... that was a bit of a mess. Nothing important."

George studied her for a bit. "Well, we all make mistakes, but if anyone bothers you, you'll tell me, right?" he asked.

"I... of course," she replied softly.

They catch up for a bit after that, but when George left, he still felt like their interaction was... off, like she wasn't being herself with him.

- - Two weeks later - -

That morning, Catherine's shift felt endless. The weeks had passed by routinely with work, the usual jokes and jabs from the maids, and her face burning whenever she caught sight of George.

As she stepped quietly into the scullery, she could feel everyone's eyes on her, tracking her movement. What's going on? She thought. The whispers felt different, it was sharper than usual.

When she bent to gather linens, she heard snippets from the conversation behind her.

"...saw her, plain as day, leaving the west wing. Near his rooms. Middle of the night-"

"She's gotten bold. Maybe she thinks her mother's spotless record covers her too..."

Catherine froze, her pulse quickening. What? Did someone see her that night?

A flush crept up her neck. She forced herself to continue with what she was doing, acting as if she hadn't heard them, but the hum of rumor had quickened to a buzz. She quickly finished her task and hurried off, slipping into an empty parlor where she found Isla wiping down a sideboard.

Isla looked up, concern etched across her face. "Cathy? You look like you've seen a ghost. What's wrong?"

Catherine hesitated, the words thick at her throat. She had never hidden anything from Isla. Sitting down, she whispered, "I need to tell you something... and you have to promise me, Isla. Swear you'll keep it just between us."

Isla nodded, moving closer, her eyes never leaving Catherine's. "I swear. You know you can trust me."

Breathless, Catherine confessed the secret she had kept to herself for days. "Remember that day I acted weird at the breakfast table, and when I didn't go with the Prince to Falconry?

"Yes? You said you weren't feeling too well."

"Well... I... I lied. The night before, the prince had come back home drunk. I walked him to his room. But before I could leave, he..." Catherine paused for a moment, trying to steady herself. "He kissed me. One thing led to another, and..." She couldn't say the rest. Her cheeks burned.

Isla's hand flew to her mouth. "Omg! Does anyone else know?"

"No," Catherine said, voice barely audible. "But someone may have seen me leaving that night. I heard them this morning."

Isla held her hand and squeezed tighter. "People talk, Cathy. They're vultures. They don't already like you, so they would say anything to get in your skin, but I won't let anyone hurt you. I promise."

Relief trembled through Catherine, but she couldn't shake off the fear. "You can't tell a soul, Iz. Please."

Isla nodded, solemn. "Never."

- - -

Elsewhere, in the queen's rose-marbled sitting room, Prince George sat across from his mother. Queen Charlotte had heard the rumors, but she didn't believe it. Still, she wanted to hear from him.

She studied him with the steady gaze she reserved for the most delicate state matters.

"George," she said quietly, "I've heard things... things about you and one of the maids. You know that everything in this palace has a way of surfacing."

George stiffened. "Rumors, Mother. That's all they are."

She set aside her embroidery, her face grave. "I know, but our family is always watched, always judged. If you give them a reason to talk, it will become an accusation. I'm sure you understand the cost of a single scandal... for you, and for us."

He clasped his hands, jaw clenched. "Mom, there's no truth to those rumors, but I promise to be careful."

Her gaze softened, but her worry was still visible. "Be more than careful. There's more at stake than a 'harmless' rumor."

- - -

Back in the service hall, the day moved on with suffocating normalcy. Catherine tried her best to blend into the blur, acting as if nothing happened.

At midday, the maids assembled in the kitchen for announcements and the daily assignment rotation. Mrs. Harrow, the formidable head housekeeper, called the group to order.

"We run a palace, not a market!" she barked. "Everyone here is trusted to keep their head down and their service impeccable."

She continued. "It has come to my attention that someone..."Her eyes flashed through the group. "...was found out of place at improper hours. I don't want to know if this is true or not, but there will be no favoritism, no taking advantage of position. If I find anyone, anyone at all, breaking protocol, be assured that there will be consequences."

Catherine's stomach twisted. Every eye seemed to turn toward her. She pressed her hands to her apron, forcing herself not to break. Not here. Not now.

After the meeting ended, Isla sidled up to her. "Hey, keep your head down," she whispered, "It'll blow over if you don't let them see that it's affecting you."

Catherine tried to smile, grateful for Isla's steady presence. But she caught Daniel, one of the kitchen boys, watching her from the corner, a knowing smirk twisting his lips.

Once her shift was over, Catherine was relieved to be out of anyone's view. When she got to her quarters, she found her mother folding some laundry. Elizabeth smiled softly when she saw Catherine, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Long day?"

Catherine sank onto a bench, exhaustion seeping in. "Long couple of weeks, really."

Elizabeth pressed a kiss to her daughter's hair. "I heard the rumor. I don't want to ask if you're not comfortable telling me just yet, but I need you to be very careful. These palace halls are more dangerous than they seem. Trust me, I've been there."

Before Catherine could reply, someone knocked on the front door. Catherine stood up to answer it.

"For you, Miss Catherine," the person said, pressing an envelope into her hands.

She frowned. No one ever wrote to her except her mother's friend in the market, and this wasn't her handwriting. Elizabeth watched, concerned as Catherine opened the seal.

What she read made her heart stop.

There, in harsh black ink, was a single line: "I know about your secret."

The next day, Catherine woke up tense. She could barely sleep last night. She remembered the note, and her throat tightened. The rumors were now venturing into threats.

Elizabeth had asked what was in the envelope, but she had shrugged, lying that it was one of the maids playing a prank on her. She didn't want her mother to feel more worried about her than she already was.

Could it actually be a prank? She thought to herself as she entered the palace to start her shift. Every glance at her seemed loaded. Could it be her? Could it be him? Catherine was starting to become paranoid.

The palace itself felt changed. There was a new curfew in place, posted quietly on the wooden notice boards along the hallway in the staff quarters. New schedules slipped into kitchen tables, instructions whispered by supervisors.

Each message was the same: Staff were to avoid royal corridors after dark, keep interactions brief, and "hold themselves to the highest standards." There had been no grand announcement, only the slow, suffocating tightening of a net she hadn't realized she was caught in.

Catherine tried to shake off her paranoia as she continued with her day. But as soon as she walked into the staff dining hall, she caught flashes of conversation:

"Something's brewing," muttered a young footman to his friend.

"There was a maid found near the prince's wing one night" a senior butler whispered to two royal advisors, their heads close.

Catherine ducked her head, hoping she wouldn't draw their attention. She hurried to the kitchen, where Isla was already bustling about, stacking trays beside the great stone washbasin.

Isla saw her fear. "Ignore them," she said quietly, stepping in when Mrs. Harrow barked an order at Catherine. Isla took on the brunt of the task, arranging the trays with precision, blocking the worst of the barbs. Catherine's shoulders sagged with relief.

Isla knew how Catherine felt, as she herself had searched for warmth in a cold place. Before coming to work in the palace, her father's excessive drinking had broken up his marriage, and it had destroyed her mother. She never felt love in her home. She remembered the sting of shame from being blamed for a missing coin and the general feeling of always wanting to be a part of something.

When she met Catherine, she understood that pain and quickly defended her against the other maids. Catherine had also vouched for her in one particular incident. "If you accuse Isla, you accuse me too." ,and since then, Isla's loyalty was forged, vowing to always protect her.

No one saw the flash in Isla's eyes or the fear coiled tight inside her. She said nothing more, just continued working while keeping Catherine's panic at bay.

As the afternoon light slanted through high windows, Catherine passed through a quiet corridor, still feeling on edge. She saw Prince George coming the other way towards her. He looked tired, like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, his hands jammed awkwardly in his pockets.

She hadn't seen him for days. Obviously, by choice, because she still didn't know how to act around him. So, she tried to avoid him, but there was nowhere to hide this time. It was no use, he'd already seen her.

"Catherine," he said, voice softer than she expected, "can we talk?"

She nodded and followed him into a small alcove out of sight.

He hesitated, choosing his words. "Did something really happen that night between us? I... I've tried to piece it together, but I can't. I have this feeling something's changed between us because I think you've been avoiding me. Please, I need the truth."

Catherine's breath hitched. She tried to come up with something to say. "Umm... I... I was with you. You... you were drunk, so I helped you to your room. That's all. Nothing more."

He looked at her, searching for any sign of lies. And for a moment, something filled the space between them.

The first time he met Catherine, she had just arrived at the Palace with her mother. She was this 6-year old girl in the gardens beside the palace, clutching a wildflower he'd picked up for her. His face was rosy with a shy smile. He did like her. Back then, the world felt simpler.

"Catherine..." he whispered, reaching for her hand, but just then, footsteps echoed as Mr. Alden, the King's junior royal secretary, appeared around the corner. He paused, eyeing them both with shrewd calculation.

"Your Highness, you're needed at the library," he said. His tone was polite but held an edge, a hint that nothing in this palace went unnoticed.

George turned and left, casting Catherine one last, uncertain look as he disappeared.

She waited a moment, trying to steady her heart beating erratically, before she left as well.

During an afternoon tea training, Catherine fumbled a tray, the cups rattling, nearly falling. Maids gasped. Mrs. Harrow's eyes narrowed in on her, lips pressed in a thin line.

Later, Mrs. Harrow cornered Catherine in a stone-lined corridor.

"Appearances matter," she said, her voice low. "You may think you're invisible, but you're not. Staff position is earned with discretion. If I find you in the wrong place again, things will change for you... and your mother."

Isla walked in just in time to hear the threat, placing herself firmly at Catherine's side. "With all due respect, Mrs. Harrow, Catherine's only ever put the palace first. We all make mistakes. If you want someone to help with extra work, I'll do it."

Mrs. Harrow glared at them, huffed, and walked away.

- - -

As dusk began to settle, Elizabeth was called into the administrative offices. A senior supervisor greeted her, words formal but heavy.

"Mrs. Elizabeth, I'm sure you've heard the rumors about your daughter. We do not take things like that lightly, and we require absolute transparency. Any staff caught up in a scandal will be dealt with accordingly. I trust your daughter is aware of the risks."

Elizabeth bristled with anger, even though she was feeling a bit scared on the inside. "My Catherine has never brought shame to the palace. And she never will."

The supervisor nodded and dismissed her, but Elizabeth could not forget the chill in their warning. She's been here before, and she will not allow her daughter to go through the same thing she did.

She returned to their quarters shaken, hoping to talk to her daughter about the situation. But as soon as she walked in, she saw Catherine doubled over by the washstand, retching violently.

"Catherine?" Elizabeth rushed to her side, her heart in her throat. "Are you alright?"

Catherine wiped her mouth, her eyes tired. "I don't know, ma. I just feel sick."

Slowly, Elizabeth pieced everything that's been happening in the last few days together: the rumors, Catherine's odd behavior recently, and now, the nausea.

If what she was thinking was true, then nothing would ever be the same.

Catherine sat on the edge of her small bed, her knees curled tightly to her chest. Her mother hovered nearby, just stunned in silence.

With her arms folded, she waited for an explanation from her daughter. She didn't want to assume; she wanted to hear it directly from Catherine's mouth.

"That night I came back late, you asked where I was, and I lied that I was with Isla. But, I was with... with Prince George. He was drunk, barely awake, so I... I helped him to his room, and I..."

Tears streaked down her face as she continued. "Ma, I didn't plan for it to happen, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I was so ashamed. I thought I'd let you down. I didn't know what else to do. And then, the rumors started and I got really scared..."

Elizabeth listened, her face tense, the years of palace service etched into every line. She brushed a strand of hair behind Catherine's ear.

"I wish I could tell you what to do, but I know what it means to be talked about in whispers," Elizabeth said quietly. "When we first came here, I trusted the wrong person and paid for it. I was accused of sleeping with one of the top senior royals. There were investigations going on, I had a meeting with the Queen, and that's how the rumors started. I nearly lost this job, but I knew you had a better future here, and so I stayed and fought for our place here."

Catherine squeezed her mother's hand. "Ma, I didn't know... but what if I'm the reason we lose it now?"

"We don't know yet. All we can do is be careful. We keep our heads down and hide what must be hidden for as long as possible."

Catherine nodded. As she embraced her mother, she felt a bit of comfort and relief, like a weight had been lifted up her shoulders.

- - -

The next day, it was announced that there would be a gala coming up in the next three days. Preparations began almost immediately, turning the palace into a restless hive. Velvet banners replaced the usual silks, jewel-bright flowers arrangement lined the entry halls. Staff ran from room to room, nerves fraying in the rush.

Catherine kept her head down, careful as she laid crystal amid laughter and complaint. Mrs. Harrow checked every table, every chandelier, clucking over the smallest errors.

"No fingerprints," she barked. "No talking, no loitering. Catherine, watch yourself near the royal wings. And Janet, go to the provisions room and get the beads."

Isla winked at Catherine and mouthed, "She's just scared of real royalty," and the girls giggled as they continued with their tasks.

In the staff room, Catherine overheard the butlers debating. "I hear that one of the daughters of the King of Drakonhelm will be coming with them. Do you think they might do matchmaking with George?"

A footman shrugged. "Well, if the alliance goes through, there just might be wedding bells in the future."

Catherine tried to ignore them, but their words stung in her.

- - -

The day of the gala arrived, and the palace had never looked so beautiful. The great hall gleamed beneath the golden maps, swirling with colors. Everyone looked glamorous in their gowns, each laugh mingling with the notes of a chamber orchestra. Outside, the city lights of Eldoria flickered. It felt like another world. King Arthur, Queen Charlotte, and Prince George stood together, regal and composed as they greeted the guests.

Then, the herald blew a trumpet, signaling the arrival of another guest. "Announcing their Majesties, the King and Queen of Drakonhelm, King Edward and Queen Margaret, along with their daughter, Princess Katarina of Drakonhelm."

Everyone turned to look at them as they walked down the stairs: King Edward, tall and stern, offered smiles that never quite reached his eyes. Queen Margaret was luminous, but her gaze assessed everything.

Katarina, introduced for all to see, wore pale gold trimmed with pearls, her diamond earrings sparkling in the lights. She smiled and curtised as her parents introduced her to the royal family of Eldoria.

When she was introduced formally to George, the tension was palpable. George bowed politely, then offered his arm for the ceremonial dance. Katarina accepted, her grip warm, her smile perfectly charming.

Catherine, pouring wine at the edge of the festivities, caught snippets of their conversation as the music played.

"You remembered my name. That's more than most do after a hunt." Katarina's voice teased.

George smiled faintly. "They always say that whatever happens at Falconry isn't easily forgotten."

As they danced amid courtiers, Catherine felt the old ache pulse deeper, and she ducked away before she heard more.

Over at the royal dais, King Arthur and King Edward shared private words.

"Your daughter is a credit to your line," King Arthur said, looking at their children dancing.

"And your son might prove a worthy match, should alliances call for it." King Edward replied. "I'm sure we still have our trade agreement in place?"

King Arthur nodded, his gaze measured as he lifted his cup for a toast. "Let us hope the children forge their own paths... with our guidance."

Throughout the gala, Catherine kept to her duties, refilling glasses and avoiding too many eyes. Across the ballroom, George searched the crowd, eyes lingering in Catherine's direction.

At one point, as she turned from the refreshment table, she collided into someone tall and solid.

"Forgive me-" she began, flustered.

George steadied her, his touch warm but brief on the elbow. "Careful now..."

She looked up, startled, "Geo-Your Highness... What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be over there?" she said, pointing at the royal chamber.

"Well, I thought you might need some help."

She was confused, but then saw the smirk on his lips and couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her. Just for a beat, the world outside their bubble faded and it was only them, her pulse quickening at the closeness, a warmth blooming in his eyes as he watched her.

But their quiet bubble burst as the crowd shifted, and George stepped back to decorum.

Over his shoulder, Catherine caught sight of Katarina, her gaze trained on them. The princess's expression was perfectly composed as she turned away, lost in conversation with two Drakonhelm nobles.

Then, George gave Catherine a last, soft smile. "I have to go now. Duty calls. Take care tonight," he murmured, voice so quiet only she could hear.

- - -

Later, in Drakonhelm's candlelit palace, Katarina slipped out of her gown, settling amidst her sisters.

"How was Eldoria?" Her younger sister, Princess Almeria, asked.

"Gold and marble everywhere. The prince is so handsome, but he was distracted throughout the night. Their staff? Easy to read, if you know what you need."

Her eldest sister, Princess Daisy, arched an eyebrow. "And did you leave an impression?"

Katarina patted her neck, where one earring was missing. "Let's just say I started a little game. Father will approve if all goes according to plan."

- - -

Back in Eldoria, as soon as the gala ended and all the guests had left in carriages and moonlit walks, Catherine beckoned her mother to wait while she returned to the staff cloakroom to grab her bag.

The room lights were dim, a few staff were also there. Catherine found her purse tucked in the corner. As she lifted it, she noticed the zipper was slightly open. Someone's been in my bag, she thought.

She unfastened it and inside, she saw a scrap of paper marked by red lipstick. "One secret leads to another. Tonight is just the beginning."

Her stomach flipped. Digging deeper, her hand brushed something hard. She pulled out a single diamond earring. The same one that glittered on Katarina's ear all night.

She froze. What.. How did this get here?