The East Corridor – Moments Later

The long glass corridor connecting the council chamber to the royal wing shimmered beneath the morning  sun. Outside, fountains whispered across pale marble courtyards, their reflections rippling on the walls like moving silk.

Kamil walked beside the Queen Mother, his pace unhurried, his expression unreadable.

"You've grown into your voice," Samitra said at last, tone soft. "You command the room like your father once did." 

Kamil's lips curved faintly. "You make it sound like a weapon." "In this palace," she replied smoothly, "it is."

  Two guards bowed deeply as they passed. When they were alone again, Samitra's gaze shifted ahead. "The council respects you, but they still see a boy who spent too long abroad. Today helped. Still, power fades when it isn't anchored." 

Kamil glanced sideways. "Anchored how?" Her answer was calmed. "Through alliance. Blood keeps a throne alive, but alliances keep it standing."

Kamil's voice dropped slightly. "You mean marriage." Samitra didn't flinch. "The royal family of Nalal arrives within the week. Jodha will be with them."

"She's grown," Samitra continued, her tone deceptively gentle. "Educated. Poised. The people of Nalal adore her. You two were promised long before you understood what it meant." Kamil's jaw tightened. "And now that I do, I know promises can bind more than they build."  Samitra stopped walking, her silk hem brushing the polished floor. "You think love will rule a kingdom?"

He faced her fully, calm but certain. "No. But neither will duty alone." Then Samitra lifted her hand, resting it lightly on his shoulder, her rings catching the light."Be careful, Kamil," she murmured. "The crown doesn't forgive softness."

His eyes held hers . "Neither does the heart."

She said nothing more. But when she turned away, her reflection in the glass lingered . 

SCHOOL AFTERNOON.

Milan walked briskly down the street with Hiba beside her, the sun low and warm in the morning sky.

"Finally!" Hiba teased. "I thought you'd sleep through the morning again."

"I didn't want to," Milan murmured. "It's quieter this way - before everyone notices me."

Hiba glanced back. "Not everyone notices. Just people with... crowns."

Milan laughed softly, humming a private tune under her breath, the melody only for her.

"Where are Mikel and Mabel?" Hiba asked.

"They left me behind," Milan said quietly. "Mikel refused, and Mabel... she couldn't exactly complain."

Hiba snorted. "Figures. Twins always find a way."

School passed in the usual blur of lessons and chatter. By the time the final bell rang, Milan and Hiba were walking home together.

"Almost there," Hiba said, glancing toward her own street. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Thanks for walking with me," Milan said softly.

Hiba grinned. "Don't let Amy ruin your day before I get home." She waved and turned down a side street, leaving Milan to continue alone. Back at her house, Milan entered the quiet hall. Amy was already there, folding clothes, eyes cold as ever."Milan!" Amy snapped. "Take these to your father at the palace. He was supposed to come by this month, but apparently he's too busy."

Milan froze, hands tightening around the bundle. "Now?"

"Yes. Now," Amy said sharply. The twins lounged nearby - Mabel muttering under her breath, "At least someone's useful," while Mikel scowled in silence.

"I'll be back soon," Milan said softly, tucking the clothes under her arm. She stepped into the streets again, city noise rolling softly around her. Cars hummed, people moved lazily in the golden light, and she hummed her secret tune.

The trip to the palace didn't take long because she had passed through short-cuts. The palace gates opened before her like a dream. Golden sunlight spilled over white marble floors, fountains danced in delicate arcs, and the scent of fresh blooms clung to the air.

 Milan froze, eyes wide, heart hammering.

"I wish... even if it's in the dream", she whispered.

Her fingers tightened on the bundle of clothes. The polished floors reflected her tentative steps, the tall chandeliers scattering prisms across the hall. 

She hummed softly as she hopped and checked around.

🎶I could tell what peace is but it hasn't found me , 🎶I could tell what life is but it hasn't breath in me. 🎶If anyone finds it , Tell it Milan need it. 

 🎶My mother was me before the night day goes dark 🎶My mother named me wishing I would be her 🎶And I realized I was her before the day goes dark.

Somewhere in the garden, Kamil had stepped away from the endless meetings. Preparations for the princess's visit, discussions about protocol.

Then he heard it.

A voice or perhaps "the voice ."

He froze, scanning the courtyards. Nothing but the girl moving gracefully through the marble corridors. The notes floated around her, fading, teasing, lingering.

"Who... is she?" he murmured.

The song ended as she passed a fountain, unaware of him, unaware that her melody had reached him. Kamil stayed rooted in the shadowed greenery, letting the memory of the voice anchor itself in his mind. Milan stopped near the east courtyard, shifting the bundle of folded uniforms in her arms.

Her father's station was somewhere in the lower kitchens, and even though she had been here a few times, the palace still felt like another world.

A guard passed by and gave her a polite nod. She smiled shyly in return, clutching the clothes tighter as she walked deeper in. Every corridor whispered wealth. The air smelled faintly of jasmine and sandalwood, the kind of scent that didn't belong in ordinary homes.

 She wanted to linger. 

To touch the silk drapes, to run her fingers over the cool marble railings. But Amy's voice rang in her memory-Don't dawdle. Drop it off and come home.

She took a breath and hurried on.

From the garden archway, Kamil watched her pass. The girl moved like she didn't belong here but still carried herself with quiet grace. Her humming still lingered faintly in his head, haunting in the best way.

He didn't recognize her. She wasn't one of the palace workers he saw every day. Maybe a servant's daughter. Maybe a visitor. He couldn't tell, but he found himself... curious.

The door to the lower kitchen swung open, and she disappeared inside.

Kamil stayed where he was, his hands buried in his pockets, gaze fixed on the spot she had just left. Then, somewhere behind, his aide's voice broke through.

"Your Highness, the Queen Mother requests your presence in the grand hall."

He blinked once, straightened his collar, and turned away.

"Tell her I'm on my way."

But as he walked back, the melody refused to leave his mind.

Chef Hussein stood at the far counter, his sleeves rolled up, knife in hand as he chopped herbs with the precision of someone who'd done it for decades."Papa," Milan called softly.

He turned - and the exhaustion on his face melted instantly.

"Milan?"

He wiped his hands quickly and came around the table, his broad frame nearly knocking into a young apprentice carrying a tray.

"What are you doing here, my star?"

She smiled, lifting the bundle in her arms. "Mama said you forgot your clothes again."

He laughed, low and warm. "Ah, that woman would remind me even in my sleep." Then his eyes softened. "How are you, hm? Still behaving?"

Milan nodded quickly. "Yes, Papa."

"Eating well?"

A small hesitation. "Sometimes."

He frowned slightly, brushing a curl away from her cheek. "You're getting thinner, Milan.

You're supposed to be growing, not fading."

"I'm fine," she murmured. "School's been busy."

He sighed and turned, setting the folded clothes aside. "You always say that. You work too

hard. You need to laugh more, sing more-"

Her breath caught.

The word sing hung between them like a forbidden thing. Chef Hussein's smile faltered. "Ah," he said softly. "She still forbids it?"

Milan's silence was answer enough.

Before he could say more, one of the maids peeked in through the side door. "Chef Hussein!

The Queen Mother requested the evening menu."

He nodded, his eyes lingering on his daughter. "I'll come right away."Turning back to Milan, he lowered his voice. "Go home before it gets dark, alright? And... if you must sing, do it where no one can hear. For now."

She nodded, blinking fast to hold back the sting in her eyes.

"Good girl," he whispered, kissing the top of her head.

The sounds of the kitchen faded behind her as she walked out , replaced by the distant hum of guards and maids moving about. Just beyond the courtyard, Kamil stood at the grand balcony, unaware that the girl disappearing through the servants' path was the same voice that had stilled his world the night before.

At the top of the grand entrance stood Prince Kamil, posture straight, expression calm, the kind of calm that masked calculation. Beside him, Queen Mother Samitra watched every movement with the sharp pride of a ruler who saw her bloodline as legacy, not family. 

Kamil looked every inch the ruler he was born to become, yet his mind was far from the ceremony.

That voice from yesterday still lingered.

A voice that stopped his breath, even though he never saw the girl.

Just a silhouette - a small back, slim, graceful, bent toward the flowers near the courtyard's fountain.

He had stood there for several seconds, unseen, watching the way her hair shimmered beneath the sunlight, the way her hum seemed to weave into the rustling leaves.

And then, before he could take a step closer, someone had called his name - and the moment was gone.

"Your Highness," Queen Mother Samitra's voice broke through his silence. "Compose yourself. The gates are opening."

Kamil exhaled quietly and nodded. "Yes, Mother."

From a short distance, Kaan watched, eyes dark, jaw tight. Bashi noticed the flicker of emotion - interest, jealousy, something close to possession - and smiled faintly, the kind of smile that never reached the eyes.

"She's here," Queen Ayisha murmured quietly. A convoy of luxury black vehicles rolled in immediately the massive gate opened tinted windows, royal insignias glinting beneath the sun, escorted by motorcades bearing Nalal's crimson crest. Nalal - Azzam's strongest ally, and its most dangerous rival.

The central door opened. Princess Jodha stepped out. Every camera flash seemed to chase her at once. Her heels clicked softly against the marble as she approached, her emerald gown catching the light in waves. She smiled. 

Then Kamil descended the steps, offering his hand.

"Princess Jodha," he said, voice calm and even. 

"Welcome to Azzam." Her hand slid into his. "My prince, Azzam is even more breathtaking than I remember," she said. "Or perhaps, it's your welcome that makes it so".

"Perhaps it only shines this way for guests," Kamil replied, his lips curving ever so slightly.

Queen Ayisha stepped forward gracefully. "The royal council awaits inside. Let's not keep them waiting."

Jodha's gaze lingered on Kamil a moment longer before she nodded and allowed herself to be led toward the golden hall. But Kamil's eyes drifted elsewhere - toward the far end of the courtyard, near the servants' line, where a young girl in a simple linen dress carried a tray of petals. For a second, he froze.

Something in the way she moved,  the way she hummed faintly under her breath - it was her.

The voice. Kamil's gaze followed that girl until she disappeared behind the golden doors. Behind them, courtiers whispered softly. Some admired Jodha's beauty; others wondered how soon the marriage talks would begin. The procession turned toward the palace doors, Lady Mirian stood silently above the entrance platform. Her gaze followed Kamil, She smiled faintly.

Everyone looked at Jodha.

No one looked at her.She told herself it didn't matter. That Kamil was her stepbrother and that's all. She tried to shift her gaze away but but her eyes betrayed her. They followed him - the way his hand stretched out lightly for Jodha, the calm focus in his face, the quiet authority in how he stood beside the princess while walking into the grand hall.

He looked like the future of Azzam. And she hated that it made her heart ache.

"Admiring the crown again?"

The voice behind her was low, almost mocking.

She turned. Kaan stood at the edge of the balcony, leaning casually against the rail, his smile all sharp edges.

"You shouldn't sneak up on people," Mirian said evenly.

Kaan's smirk deepened. "You were too busy staring to notice."

Her eyes narrowed. "Careful, Kaan. You sound like you're jealous."

"Jealous?" He chuckled under his breath. "Hardly. But I find it... interesting. The way you look at him."

Mirian's jaw tightened. "Watch your words."

"I'm only saying what everyone else pretends not to see," he murmured, stepping closer.

"You hide it well, but not from me."

She held his gaze. "And what exactly do you think you see?"

"Longing," Kaan said simply. "And fear."

Then Mirian smiled, slow and deliberate. "Be careful, Kaan. You're playing too close to a fire that doesn't care who it burns."

He tilted his head. "Maybe I like the heat."

Before she could reply, the soft chime of the palace intercom interrupted them.

"All royal members are requested in the grand hall."Mirian turned toward the sound, breaking the tension. "Duty calls," she said.

Kaan's eyes lingered on her as she walked away, his grin fading into something darker.

"I'll see you there," he said quietly.

The grand hall glowed beneath towering chandeliers. Reporters, diplomats, and council members filled the space, their murmurs blending with the orchestral hum in the background.

Kamil stood near the center, Jodha at his side - poised, smiling, saying all the right things. Queen Mother Samitra observed from her seat. Bashi hovered nearby, laughter smooth, eyes always calculating.

Mirian entered last, calm, composed. Her steps slowed when she caught Kamil's gaze -brief, polite, distant.

He nodded once.

She smiled in return. Across the room, Kaan watched the exchange with quiet satisfaction. At the banquet, Kamil sat at the head of the table, Queen Mother Samitra to his right, Princess Jodha to his left. Her perfume was soft but distinct.

"Your city is stunning, Your Highness," Jodha said, swirling her wine delicately. "I could feel its pulse even before we landed. It's... alive."

Kamil offered a courteous nod. "Azzam thrives on its people. They're the true crown of this kingdom."

"Spoken like a ruler who loves his land," she replied, smiling faintly. "Or perhaps like one trying to impress his future queen?"

The words hung like smoke.

A few seats down, Bashi laughed too loudly. "Ah, Princess, your wit is sharper than rumor claimed."

"Rumors travel faster than truth," Jodha said coolly, her eyes never leaving Kamil's."Indeed," Queen Mother Samitra added smoothly. "And truth has a way of revealing itself when the time is right."

Bashi bowed his head slightly, hiding a smirk. "Then I hope we all live long enough to see it."

Kaan's eyes flicked toward his father - a silent exchange neither approving nor dissenting, but full of shared understanding.

Across the table, Mirian lowered her gaze to her plate, the silver fork trembling slightly between her fingers. Every compliment Jodha threw felt like a spark against her skin. Kamil remained composed, distant but attentive.

"Tell me, Your Highness," Jodha said softly, leaning closer, "do you ever tire of all this?" She gestured

He paused. "Tired isn't the word. But peace is... rare."

"Then perhaps," she murmured, "you simply haven't met the right person to share it with."

Queen Ayisha cleared her throat, forcing a polite smile. "Shall we raise a toast to the union between two great kingdoms?" 

Glasses lifted.

Kamil's glass stayed steady in his hand, his eyes on the reflection of Jodha's smile in the wine.

Across the table, Mirian couldn't drink. Her throat was tight, her heart louder than the music. 

When the toast ended, Queen Mother Samitra rose gracefully. "We'll give our guests a tour of the palace before the council resumes tomorrow. Tonight, we celebrate."

The musicians began to play - soft strings, royal rhythm. As the crowd shifted, Jodha leaned close once more.

"Your Highness," she whispered, "tell me - is it true the gardens behind the east wing are where Azzam's crown princes go to think?"

Kamil's lips curved faintly. "Sometimes."

"Then I hope you'll show me," she said, eyes gleaming. "I'd like to see where the future king hides his thoughts."Bashi caught the exchange - and his smirk deepened.

He didn't need to sabotage the crown prince tonight. If Jodha's charm didn't distract him, her secrets surely would.

Earlier That Morning

Students poured out of Azzam Academy, some cheering, others already planning their next escape.

Milan stood by the neem tree, her bag clutched to her chest, watching Mabel and Mikel from a distance. The twins were surrounded by friends, laughing.

When Mabel finally noticed her, she waved, her smile softer - guilty almost. Mikel pretended not to see her.

You could've waited," Milan said quietly when Mabel reached her.

"I told him to," Mabel sighed, "but you know Mikel." Milan nodded.

Hiba appeared, bright as sunlight. "We're done! I swear I'll sleep for a week."

Milan smiled at her best friend. "Enjoy it while it lasts. I already know Mom will find me something to do." Mabel looked away, tightening her grip on her books.

"Maybe she just wants to help you stay busy," Hiba said quickly, trying to lighten the air.

"Maybe," Milan murmured, though both she and Mabel knew it wasn't true.

They walked together until Hiba's street came up. She hugged them both before leaving, whispering to Milan. 

That evening, Amy called her into the living room.

"Your father's been asking for help in the royal kitchen. You'll start tomorrow."Amy said , not raising her eyes from the cup she's holding.

Mabel glanced up, surprised. "She's working in the palace?"Amy's lips curved. "The palace is recruiting new maids for the crown prince. Your father got her the form. Let her make herself useful."

Milan just nodded. It wasn't an offer ,it was an order. Plus she will finally be free and far from her stepmother. 

Later in the next , she arrived at the palace. Her father met her briefly at the back entrance, handing her a silver tray filled with rose petals.

"Take this to the courtyard. They'll need it for the princess's arrival," he said kindly.

She smiled faintly and obeyed.

As she crossed the courtyard, she began to hum - softly, unconsciously - the same melody

🎶I could tell what peace is but it hasn't found me , 🎶I could tell what life is but it hasn't breath in me. 🎶If anyone finds it , Tell it Milan need it 

🎶My mother was me before the night day goes dark 🎶My mother named me wishing I would be her 🎶And I realized I was her before the day goes dark.

The celebration of Princess Jodha's arrival had stretched late into the night, but by dawn, the halls glittered as though nothing had happened.

Somewhere in the east quarters, Milan buttoned her simple uniform - pale cream with a neat waist tie. Her eyes felt heavy, but her hands moved fast. Amy had warned her the palace was strict; one mistake and you were sent home.

Three days had passed since their final exams. While others rested,she's in the palace working, assisting when needed and helping with cleaning rotations. Today, her father had handed her a slip of paper stamped with the royal seal

"Report to the east wing," it read."New assignment: Prince's household." Her heart had skipped a beat - the crown prince's wing? Why?

At that same hour, Prince Kamil stepped out of his car at the private gate of the royal residence, a black mask still covering half his face from the city dust.

He'd spent the night at his penthouse in Rizon City as he barely have time for his friends .

Liam had insisted on keeping him out till nearly dawn while Abel supported.

"Bro, you're not even twenty and you act like you're fifty," Abel had teased, halfway through a drink."Ruling doesn't start when the crown sits," Kamil had replied, dryly. "It starts when no one gives you a choice."

Now, back in the silence of Azzam Palace, he felt that weight again. The guards bowed as he walked in. No one dared speak. Milan entered the east wing through the servant corridor. It was too quiet. Even the air smelled different. She was carrying a tray of polished glasses when she heard the sound of footsteps coming from behind the tall indoor garden that separated the east wing from the main hall.

A man's voice drifted closer ,low and deep.

She turned - and nearly bumped into him.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she said quickly, steadying the tray.

Kamil blinked, caught off guard. He wasn't used to being apologized to - people usually bowed, froze, or overreacted.

"It's fine," he said simply, stepping aside. His voice was calm, and she didn't look up long enough to recognize him.

Milan nodded, embarrassed. "Thank you. I-I'm still learning my way around."

"New?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. Just got assigned here this morning. I was supposed to bring these to..." She glanced at the note in her pocket. "...the prince's study."

Kamil's mouth twitched. "The prince's study, huh?"

"Yes. They said he doesn't like delays. Or noise."

"That sounds accurate," Kamil said with a faint smile.

"You sound like you know him," she said, curious now, but still not looking up long enough to notice the resemblance to the portraits she'd seen on the palace wall."Maybe I do."

She sighed. "Then tell him his maids work too much. We clean, we polish, we serve, we bow- by the time I blink, it's midnight again."

He almost laughed. "I'll... mention it."

"Please do," she said, grinning slightly. "Maybe he'll pity us and give us a day off."

He couldn't help himself - he laughed, quietly.

Before Milan could say more, another voice called sharply from the corridor:

"Milan! Hurry, they're calling all staff to the main entrance!"

She jumped. "I have to go. Um-sorry again!"

She turned and hurried away, balancing her tray carefully. Kamil watched her until she disappeared around the corner. Something about her lingered - the way she spoke freely, the lack of fear, the faint trace of a voice he couldn't forget.

He exhaled slowly, his lips curving.

"So the voice has a face," he murmured.

Kamil stood near the tall windows of his private lounge, watching the gardens below. The girl from earlier lingered in his thoughts - the maid with the linen uniform and eyes too bright for this place.

He shouldn't still be thinking about it.

It was nothing. Just a voice.

Just a face.

He told himself that twice, then once more for good measure. A soft knock came, then the door opened without waiting for permission. 

"Your Highness," Liam announced dramatically, pushing the door wider, "your palace is too quiet. It's depressing. I nearly fell asleep three times before getting here, we thought to surprise you by coming ."

 Abel followed, sunglasses still on indoors. "He's not lying. Plus there's more life in a cemetery."Kamil turned slowly. "You're both supposed to be resting."

Liam flopped onto the couch. "Resting is for people without palaces. Abel smirked. "Or maids."

Kamil's brow lifted. "Maids?"

Liam shot Abel a look. "Don't start."

Abel ignored him. "Word travels fast, Your Highness. Something about a new recruit bumping into you this morning. I didn't know palace gossip spread faster than the news."

Kamil exhaled, leaning back against the window ledge. "It's barely minutes , You both need new hobbies."

"Oh, come on," Liam said. "You haven't laughed like that in months. Abel said one of the guards saw you smile."

"I always smile."

"Sure," Abel said dryly, "just never where people can see it."

Kamil's lips curved - barely. "Maybe you're all imagining things."

Liam grinned. "Describe her."

"Who?"

"The maid."

Kamil's silence made them grin wider.

"I don't remember," he said finally. "It was brief."

"Brief," Liam repeated. "Yet here we are, talking about it."

Kamil's gaze drifted to the gardens again.

"I'm not talking about this," he muttered.Abel stretched lazily. "Of course you're not."

Liam leaned forward. "If you ever start sneaking out to the east wing, we'll know why."

Kamil threw a pillow at him. "Get out."

Liam ducked, laughing. "Love looks good on you, Crown Prince."

"Love?" Kamil scoffed. "It's curiosity. Nothing more."

But as the door closed behind them, the word stuck.

Curiosity.

Then why did his chest feel lighter than it had in weeks?

Why did he suddenly find himself wishing the palace weren't so large... so he could cross paths with her again?

He sighed, pressing his hand against the cool glass and for the briefest second, he thought he heard it again - that soft hum, floating in the afternoon air.

Milan clutched a stack of folded linens to her chest, trying not to look lost. Her first full day as a palace maid, and already she had taken three wrong turns and to worsen it all, it's noon already . She hasn't been able to rest well.

The uniforms were stiff, the walls endless, and the people- Well, they all seemed to know where they belonged while she didn't

She grumbled,"if hiba ever says working here is fun, I'll drown her in soap water."

"Violent first day?" a voice teased.

Milan turned sharply.

A young man stood by the archway, tall, dressed simply in a dark shirt - no royal insignia, nothing that gave away his rank. His eyes were unreadable, but they held quiet amusement.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she stammered, clutching her linens tighter. "I didn't mean- I thought I was alone.""You are," he said lightly. "Mostly."

She frowned. "That doesn't make sense."

He smiled, "This palace rarely does."

Milan tilted her head, studying him. "You work here too?"

"Something like that," he said. "You?"

"New maid," she said, managing a nervous smile. "They said I'll be helping in the east wing."

He nodded slowly - his wing. "Busy place."

"You sound like you know it well."

"Let's say I've been around."

She chuckled, loosening slightly. "Then maybe you can show me around sometime... mister...?"

He hesitated, then said, "Rami."

"Milan," she said, extending her hand.

He looked at it, then shook it - careful, measured. "Nice to meet you, Milan."

She sighed in relief. "At least one person here isn't terrifying."

Kamil - Rami - smiled faintly. "Give them time."

She laughed quietly, then added, "Honestly, I'm more worried about the rumor."

"What rumor?"

"Oh, you didn't hear?" she asked, lowering her voice. "Apparently, one of the maids bumped into the Crown Prince this morning. Now everyone's saying she might be punished."He raised a brow. "Sounds dramatic."

"Everything here is dramatic," she said. "And the worst part? It's true. I was the maid."

Kamil blinked. "You-?"trying to sound surprised. He had stepped away from his chamber for a while to come have a silent moment in the garden. 

"I didn't know he was the prince! He looked like a guard or something. I said things I shouldn't have said." She bit her lip. "And now Princess Jodha heard about it. I was called this morning by the steward. I thought I'd be fired."

"And were you?"

"No," she exhaled. "But I'm sure she hates me now."

He fought the urge to laugh. "You think the prince will punish you?"

"I hope not," she muttered. "They say he's cold. Unforgiving. The kind of man who can end your job with a look."

He tilted his head, amused. "You believe that?"

"I don't want to find out."

Kamil tried not to smile. "Maybe he's not as terrible as they say."

She snorted. "You sound like you know him."

"Maybe I do."

"Well, then," she said, stepping closer, voice dropping playfully, "put in a good word for me, Rami. I'd like to keep my job long enough to buy a new pair of shoes."

Kamil chuckled. "Consider it done."

"Thank you." She smiled, then hesitated. "You know... you don't talk like a palace worker."

He shrugged lightly. "Maybe I listen better than I talk."

"Well," she said, shifting the linens, "you're better company than most here. Friends?"He blinked.

"Friends," she repeated, holding out her pinky.

He stared at it, then linked his with hers. "Friends."

By night, Liam and Abel entered the lounge unannounced, as usual. Liam dropped a folder on Kamil's desk. "Here's the final summary from the council. And before you say you're busy, no - this can't wait."

Abel sat opposite him, typing on his tablet. "We've been monitoring the Nalal talks.

Bashi's been unusually... vocal. He's aligning himself closer to the Nalal minister."

Kamil leaned back. "That's his problem, not mine."

Abel didn't look up. "It becomes your problem when Kaan gets involved."

Kamil frowned slightly. "Kaan?"

Liam raised a brow. "You don't know him?"

Kamil shook his head. "No. Should I?"

"He's Bashi's son," Abel explained. "Arrogant. Impatient. Thinks the throne should've skipped generations."

Kamil nodded knowing fully well he would forget who kaan was the next minute . "Then he's not very bright."

Liam grinned. "Oh, he's bright. Just dangerous."

Abel added, "And if Bashi's feeding him ambitions, you might want to pay attention."

Kamil stood, gaze moving toward the window again.

He barely heard Liam say, "So, what's our next move?"

"Nothing," Kamil said quietly. "Let them talk."

Liam frowned. "You sure that's wise?"Kamil's voice was calm. "The louder they talk, the easier they are to hear."

Abel smirked. "You sound like your father."

"You don't even know him well. We were kids ." Kamil answered. Liam and Abel had been his childhood friend . They were both orphan . Kamil met them in school while he was away abroad.