"Lady Sophia Harrington was quite impressed with your knowledge of Southern trading customs," Natalie remarked, arranging Julian's formal correspondence on his desk one morning. "The Empress mentioned her specifically in this note regarding the upcoming Winter Festival."

  Julian gnced up from the book he'd been studying, his expression carefully neutral. "Did she? I found her conversation rather practiced."

  Natalie recognized the diplomatic evasion for what it was. Lady Sophia, daughter of a powerful Southern duke, had been presented to Julian three times in the past month alone. The Empress's interest in establishing ties with the Harrington family was becoming increasingly transparent.

  "Nevertheless, the Empress suggests you might escort Lady Sophia during the festival's opening ceremony," Natalie continued, summarizing the carefully worded command disguised as a suggestion.

  Julian sighed, setting aside his book. "Of course she does." He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration he rarely allowed himself in public. "Another opportunity to parade me before potential alliances."

  Before Natalie could respond, a sharp knock interrupted them. Martha entered, her usual composure slightly strained around the edges.

  "Your Highness," she began with a formal curtsy. "The Empress requests the addition of Genevieve to your household staff, effective immediately."

  Julian frowned. "Genevieve?"

  "Lady Caroline's former dy's maid," Martha expined. "Her dyship has recently married and moved to her husband's estate. The Empress believes Genevieve's experience with noble households would be beneficial to your staff."

  Natalie felt a cold flicker of apprehension. The addition of staff to a royal household was never a casual matter, particurly when directed by the Empress herself.

  Julian's eyes briefly met Natalie's before returning to Martha. "What position does the Empress envision for this Genevieve?"

  Martha hesitated, her discomfort apparent. "As senior attendant, Your Highness. The Empress believes you would benefit from someone with more... formal training in court protocols."

  The implication hung in the air—Natalie, despite her years of service, cked the refined background considered appropriate for Julian's rising status. It was a thinly veiled attempt to dispce her.

  Julian's expression revealed nothing of his thoughts. "I see," he said neutrally. "And when does the Empress expect this change to take pce?"

  "Genevieve awaits outside, Your Highness. The Empress suggested a trial period, after which you might decide on permanent arrangements."

  Natalie kept her face carefully bnk, though her heart pounded uncomfortably against her ribs. This was no mere staffing suggestion—it was a calcuted move. The question was whether it originated from the Empress's concern for propriety or something more directed. Had someone noticed the changing dynamics between herself and Julian? Had Augustus's spies reported something that raised suspicions?

  "How thoughtful of my stepmother to concern herself with my household management," Julian said, his tone light but with an undercurrent Natalie recognized as his political voice. "Please show Genevieve in. I should meet her if she's to join my staff."

  Martha threw Natalie an apologetic gnce before departing. Moments ter, she returned with a young woman whose appearance immediately expined the Empress's interest.

  Genevieve was perhaps twenty-one or twenty-two, with perfect posture and a face that combined attractive features with appropriately modest expression. Her dark hair was arranged in an eborate style that somehow managed to appear both elegant and properly subdued for a servant. Her curtsy to Julian was executed with fwless precision.

  "Your Highness," she murmured, her voice melodic and respectfully low. "I am honored by the opportunity to serve in your household."

  Julian studied her for a moment. "You served Lady Caroline for how long?"

  "Three years, Your Highness, since her debut at court. I was trained in the household of the Duchess of Harrington before that."

  The Harrington connection was significant—the very family the Empress was pushing for a potential match with Julian. This was no coincidence.

  "And you're familiar with royal protocols as well as noble ones?" Julian inquired.

  "Yes, Your Highness. The Duchess ensured all her staff were trained to the highest standards. And Lady Caroline often attended royal functions, which required proper preparation and attendance."

  Julian nodded, his expression thoughtful. Then, to Natalie's surprise, he said, "Very well. A trial period seems reasonable. Natalie will show you the arrangements of my household and expin your duties."

  Natalie felt as though the floor had shifted beneath her feet. She had expected Julian to politely refuse, to insist his current staff arrangements were satisfactory. Instead, he was accepting this intrusion without protest.

  "Of course, Your Highness," she managed, her training enabling her to maintain a composed exterior despite her confusion.

  "Excellent," Julian said, returning to his book with apparent unconcern. "I have a meeting with Lord Chancellor Voss this afternoon. Genevieve can observe how you prepare for such occasions, Natalie."

  And with that dismissal, Natalie found herself escorting her potential repcement through the royal chambers, expining Julian's schedules, preferences, and the organization of his correspondence while her mind raced with questions and an emotion she was reluctant to name.

  "He takes his tea with honey when studying, but pin when in meetings," Natalie expined as she showed Genevieve the arrangement of Julian's sitting room ter that day. "The kitchen staff know his preferences, but it's worth confirming when you order refreshments."

  Genevieve nodded, her attentiveness perfect. "And His Highness prefers to dress formally even for private study sessions, I notice. Lady Caroline's brother was quite the opposite."

  "Prince Julian believes presentation reflects respect for one's position, regardless of who may see," Natalie replied automatically, the defense of Julian's habits coming naturally after years of understanding his thinking.

  "A commendable philosophy," Genevieve agreed with a smile that somehow managed to suggest Natalie's expnation was charming but naive. "The royal family must maintain standards even in private. It's what separates them from the common nobility."

  Throughout the day, Genevieve had been unfailingly polite while subtly establishing her superior knowledge of court protocols and noble expectations. Her questions about Natalie's background had been carefully phrased but pointed—where had she trained before entering royal service? Which noble houses had she previously served? Questions that highlighted Natalie's unconventional path to her position.

  "These are His Highness's personal chambers," Natalie said, indicating the doors they wouldn't be entering. "You'll be stationed in the adjoining antechamber during morning preparations, but Prince Julian values his privacy and doesn't require attendance once he retires for the evening."

  "Of course," Genevieve replied, though her tone suggested this arrangement was unusual. "And where are your quarters?"

  The question was innocent enough, but Natalie understood its implication. Senior attendants to royal family members typically had chambers near but not directly adjoining their masters'. Natalie's closer proximity was another deviation from standard protocol.

  "Through there," Natalie indicated the small door that led to her chambers. "As Prince Julian's schedule often requires early morning preparation or te-night correspondence, the proximity is practical."

  Genevieve's perfectly shaped eyebrows rose slightly. "How convenient. The Empress has prepared chambers for me in the attendants' wing, which I suppose is more traditional. Though less... intimate."

  The emphasis on the st word was subtle but unmistakable. Natalie felt heat rise to her cheeks despite her efforts to remain composed.

  "Prince Julian values efficiency above tradition in his household management," she replied evenly.

  "Clearly," Genevieve said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Now, perhaps you could show me His Highness's wardrobe? I should familiarize myself with his formal attire before this evening's dinner."

  By the time Julian returned from his meeting with the Lord Chancellor, Natalie had spent hours enduring Genevieve's subtle critiques disguised as questions and suggestions. The older woman had managed to rearrange Julian's study materials "for better efficiency," select alternative attire for the evening "more appropriate to his station," and insinuate herself into conversations with other pace staff who seemed impressed by her court connections.

  When Julian entered his chambers, Genevieve was ready with a graceful curtsy and refreshments prepared exactly to pace standards. "Your Highness," she greeted him. "I've taken the liberty of preparing your evening attire for the dinner with the Southern delegation. The blue brocade would complement both your coloring and your status while acknowledging the Southern preference for richness of fabric."

  Julian gnced at the clothes she had id out—formal, eborate, and significantly more ostentatious than his usual selections. "Thank you, Genevieve, but I believe I'll wear what Natalie has already prepared."

  Natalie felt a small surge of satisfaction as Genevieve's smile faltered briefly. She had selected his preferred dark green jacket with minimal ornamentation—elegant but understated, exactly as Julian preferred for diplomatic functions where he didn't wish to overshadow the visitors.

  "Of course, Your Highness," Genevieve recovered smoothly. "Natalie has expined your preferences most thoroughly. I merely thought the occasion might warrant something more... befitting your royal status."

  Julian's expression revealed nothing of his thoughts. "The green will serve nicely. I find excessive dispy often creates unnecessary barriers in diplomatic discussions."

  "A thoughtful approach," Genevieve acknowledged with another perfect curtsy. "Shall I prepare your bath, Your Highness?"

  "Natalie will see to my preparations," Julian replied. "Perhaps you could familiarize yourself with the evening's guest list and diplomatic protocols. Martha will provide the necessary documents."

  Once Genevieve had departed with carefully concealed disappointment, Natalie began preparing Julian's bath in the adjoining chamber, her movements efficient but tinged with the tension she'd been carrying all day.

  "She seems quite competent," Julian remarked casually, sorting through correspondence at his desk.

  "Extremely," Natalie agreed, keeping her voice neutral. "The Empress chose well if her goal was to provide you with someone versed in the finest court protocols."

  Julian gnced up, studying her for a moment. "You sound displeased."

  Natalie focused on adjusting the water temperature, avoiding his gaze. "It's not my pce to be pleased or displeased with the Empress's decisions regarding your household."

  "Isn't it?" Julian set down his papers. "After six years managing my affairs, I would think you'd have opinions on sudden changes to your domain."

  "Genevieve has extensive experience with noble households," Natalie said carefully. "Her connections at court could be valuable to you."

  "That doesn't answer my question."

  Natalie straightened, finally meeting his eyes. "What would you have me say, Your Highness? That I'm concerned about being repced by someone the Empress considers more suitable? That after years of service, I find it... difficult to watch another person rearrange the life I've helped build for you?"

  As soon as the words escaped, Natalie wished she could recall them. The emotion in her voice was too revealing, too personal.

  Julian's expression softened. "So you do mind."

  "It doesn't matter if I mind," Natalie replied, retreating to the safety of formality. "Your household should be staffed according to your needs and position."

  "And you don't think you meet those needs?" Julian pressed.

  Why are you doing this? Natalie wanted to ask. Why are you forcing me to articute feelings that can lead nowhere good?

  "Genevieve is better trained in formal court protocols," she acknowledged instead. "Her background and connections align with your increasing diplomatic responsibilities."

  "That's not what I asked," Julian said quietly.

  The intensity in his gaze made Natalie acutely uncomfortable. There was something deliberate in his questioning, as if he were testing her responses against some private measure.

  "Your bath is ready," she said, reverting to practical matters. "The Southern delegation arrives in an hour."

  Julian held her gaze a moment longer, then nodded, allowing the subject to drop. "Thank you, Natalie."

  As she withdrew to give him privacy, Natalie wondered at the strange undercurrent in their exchange. Julian's acceptance of Genevieve into his household had surprised her, but even more surprising was his apparent interest in Natalie's reaction to the situation.

  The following days established a new and uncomfortable routine in Julian's household. Genevieve performed her duties with fwless precision, gradually inserting herself into responsibilities that had previously been Natalie's domain. She arranged Julian's formal correspondence, supervised the preparation of his chambers, and managed interactions with other pace staff with an efficiency that was difficult to fault.

  Most unsettling to Natalie was Julian's apparent acceptance of these changes. While he didn't openly prefer Genevieve's assistance, neither did he object to her increasing role. He responded to her suggestions with polite consideration, allowed her to manage certain aspects of his schedule, and seemed untroubled by the shifting dynamics of his household.

  Had he grown tired of Natalie's company? Was he embracing the Empress's implicit suggestion that he needed an attendant more suited to his elevated status? Or was this simply the natural evolution of his position—a prince approaching adulthood required proper staff with appropriate backgrounds?

  These questions tormented Natalie as she watched her role gradually diminish. But beneath the practical concerns y a more personal pain she was reluctant to acknowledge—the simple hurt of being repced in Julian's daily life by someone who sparkled with feminine accomplishment and proper breeding.

  On the fourth day of this arrangement, Natalie entered Julian's study to find Genevieve already there, engaged in what appeared to be an amusing conversation. Julian was smiling at something she had said, his expression more rexed than Natalie had seen in days.

  "Ah, Natalie," he greeted her, his smile remaining in pce. "Genevieve was just describing the eborate code of fan signals Southern dies use to communicate during formal events. Apparently, Lady Sophia has been trying to educate me without my knowledge."

  "It's quite common at court," Genevieve expined with a graceful gesture. "A dy wouldn't dream of expressing interest directly, but a properly positioned fan can convey volumes to those who understand the nguage."

  "And I've been entirely oblivious," Julian admitted, seeming amused rather than concerned by this revetion.

  "Most gentlemen are, Your Highness," Genevieve replied with a smile that bordered on flirtatious while remaining just within the bounds of propriety. "That's rather the point. It allows dies to communicate their feelings without risking directness."

  Natalie stood silently, the correspondence she had come to deliver suddenly heavy in her hands. The easy rapport between Julian and Genevieve created an unexpected ache in her chest—a sharp, jealous pain she had no right to feel.

  "I've brought the trade proposals from the Western provinces," she said, her voice sounding stiff even to her own ears. "And Lord Chancellor Voss's notes on the matter."

  "Excellent," Julian said, his expression shifting back to business. "We'll review them this afternoon. Genevieve, would you make arrangements for tea to be served during the review? I expect it will take several hours."

  "Of course, Your Highness." Genevieve curtseyed gracefully and departed, leaving Julian and Natalie alone for the first time that day.

  Julian turned his attention to the documents Natalie had brought, but after a moment, he gnced up with a thoughtful expression. "Genevieve seems to be adapting well to the household."

  "She's very capable," Natalie agreed neutrally.

  "The Empress is pleased with the arrangement," Julian continued. "She mentioned it specifically at yesterday's family dinner."

  "I'm gd Her Majesty approves," Natalie said, unable to keep a slight edge from her voice.

  Julian set down the papers, studying her with that penetrating gaze that always made her feel exposed. "You're upset."

  "Not at all, Your Highness," Natalie replied automatically. "I'm merely focused on the Western trade matters. The proposals require careful consideration."

  "Natalie." Julian's voice softened. "After all these years, do you really think I can't tell when something is bothering you?"

  The gentle concern in his tone threatened to crack her carefully maintained composure. How could she expin that watching another woman—a proper, accomplished, beautiful woman—taking her pce at his side felt like losing the only home she had known since childhood? How could she admit that her distress stemmed not just from professional dispcement but from jealousy so acute it physically hurt?

  "I'm adjusting to the new arrangements," she said finally. "As are we all."

  "Is that all it is? Adjustment?" Julian pressed.

  Something in his persistent questioning sparked irritation through Natalie's pain. "What would you have me say, Your Highness? That I find it difficult to watch someone else fulfilling duties I've performed for years? That I wonder what purpose I serve now that the Empress has provided you with a more suitable attendant?"

  "Is that how you see it?" Julian asked. "That Genevieve is repcing you?"

  "Isn't she?" The words escaped before Natalie could censor them.

  Julian leaned back in his chair, a strange expression crossing his features—something almost like satisfaction. "That depends entirely on whether I wish to repce you. Which I don't."

  Confusion repced some of Natalie's hurt. "Then why accept her into your household? Why allow her to take over responsibilities that were mine?"

  Julian was quiet for a moment, his expression turning thoughtful. "Tell me, Natalie. How would you describe your reaction to Genevieve's presence here?"

  The question seemed odd, almost clinical. "I'm concerned about the disruption to your established routines," she replied carefully.

  "Is that all?" Julian's gaze was uncomfortably perceptive. "Just concern about my routines?"

  Natalie felt suddenly as though she were being maneuvered in some game whose rules she didn't fully understand. "Your Highness, I don't—"

  "Julian," he corrected softly. "We're alone, Natalie."

  The familiarity felt dangerous in this context, with emotions so close to the surface. "Julian," she amended. "I don't understand what you're asking of me."

  He studied her for a long moment. "I think you do," he said finally. "But I won't press you further. Not today." He picked up the trade proposals again. "We should focus on these matters before this afternoon's review."

  Grateful for the return to practical business, Natalie began organizing the documents in their usual working order. Yet as they settled into their familiar routine of analysis and discussion, she couldn't shake the feeling that something significant had just transpired—that Julian had been testing her in some way, and that her responses had revealed more than she intended.

  That evening, as Natalie prepared Julian's chambers for the night, she found Genevieve already there, arranging his sleeping attire with meticulous attention to detail.

  "Oh, I didn't realize you were handling evening preparations now," Natalie said, unable to keep a hint of territorial resentment from her voice.

  Genevieve smiled pleasantly. "The Empress suggested I familiarize myself with all aspects of His Highness's household. Evening preparations are particurly important for establishing proper rest routines."

  Before Natalie could respond, Martha appeared at the chamber door. "The Empress requests your presence, Natalie," she said, her expression giving nothing away.

  A private summons from the Empress was unusual and concerning. Natalie felt a flutter of anxiety as she followed Martha through the pace corridors to the Empress's private receiving room.

  The Empress was alone when Natalie entered, seated at her writing desk reviewing correspondence. She did not look up immediately, allowing Natalie to stand waiting—a subtle reminder of hierarchies and power.

  "Natalie," she finally acknowledged, setting aside her papers. "You've served my stepson for several years now."

  "Yes, Your Majesty," Natalie replied with a deep curtsy. "It has been my honor."

  "Indeed." The Empress studied her with cool assessment. "You've shown considerable... dedication to his welfare. Beyond what might be expected of an ordinary attendant."

  There was something in her tone that made Natalie's pulse quicken warily. "Prince Julian deserves the highest standard of service, Your Majesty."

  "Service," the Empress repeated thoughtfully. "Yes, that is what members of a royal household provide. Service appropriate to their station and training." She rose, moving to a side table where a delicate porcein tea service waited. "You understand, of course, that as Julian's position at court evolves, so too must his household reflect his status."

  "Of course, Your Majesty," Natalie agreed, though dread was building in her stomach.

  "Genevieve comes from one of the finest noble households in the Southern provinces," the Empress continued, pouring tea with practiced elegance. "Her training and connections will serve Julian well as he begins formal marriage negotiations."

  So that was it—preparation for Julian's eventual marriage. The Empress was restructuring his household to accommodate a royal bride.

  "I understand," Natalie said quietly.

  The Empress handed her a teacup with surprising directness, forcing Natalie to meet her gaze. "Do you? I wonder." She returned to her seat, gesturing for Natalie to take the chair opposite—an unusual honor that somehow felt more threatening than reassuring.

  "Julian has always been... different from his brothers," the Empress continued after a moment. "More observant, more sensitive to the needs of others. These qualities make him an excellent diplomat but can also lead to... inappropriate attachments."

  The implication hung in the air between them. Natalie kept her expression carefully neutral despite the racing of her heart. "Your Majesty?"

  "A prince's life is not his own," the Empress said simply. "His personal preferences must always yield to duty. This is something Augustus understands instinctively, but Julian..." She sighed. "Julian has his father's heart. A fine quality in private, but potentially problematic in matters of state."

  "Prince Julian has always shown great dedication to his responsibilities," Natalie offered carefully.

  "Yes," the Empress agreed. "And it is important that nothing... interferes with that dedication as he approaches marriage age." Her gaze sharpened. "Don't you agree?"

  The question felt like a trap. "His Highness understands his duty to the Empire," Natalie replied, avoiding direct agreement.

  "Indeed." The Empress set down her teacup with a delicate clink. "Lady Emmeline mentioned you might be considering a position in her household. At her Western estate."

  The sudden change of subject startled Natalie. "It was a generous offer, Your Majesty."

  "And one you might wish to reconsider," the Empress suggested smoothly. "Lady Emmeline is a valued ally of the crown. Service in her household would be both respectable and... appropriate for someone of your capabilities."

  The message was clear: the Empress wanted her gone from Julian's household. Not immediately, perhaps, but certainly before marriage negotiations proceeded too far.

  "I am honored by your interest in my future, Your Majesty," Natalie said carefully. "I will give Lady Emmeline's offer my fullest consideration."

  "See that you do," the Empress replied, rising to signal the end of the audience. "Changes are coming, Natalie. It would be best for all concerned if transitions could occur smoothly, without unnecessary... complications."

  As Natalie curtseyed and withdrew, the Empress's warning echoed in her mind. She had suspected her position was becoming precarious, but now she had confirmation. The Empress had noticed something—some shift in Julian's behavior or attitude—that made her view Natalie's presence as problematic.

  Had Julian's feelings become obvious to others? Or was this simply the Empress ensuring that her stepson's household was properly organized before formal marriage negotiations began?

  Either way, the message was unmistakable: her time in Julian's household was coming to an end. The only question was whether she would depart voluntarily or be removed by imperial decree.

  When Natalie returned to Julian's chambers, she found him alone in his study, Genevieve having completed the evening preparations and departed. He looked up from the book he was reading, his expression brightening slightly at her appearance.

  "I was beginning to think you'd abandoned me to Genevieve's excessive formality for the evening," he remarked with a hint of humor. "She arranged my nightclothes with such precision I'm reluctant to disturb them."

  The casual jest, so reminiscent of their usual comfortable rapport, made Natalie's chest ache with the knowledge that such moments were numbered.

  "The Empress summoned me," she said, moving to straighten items on his desk that didn't really need arranging. "To discuss my future."

  Julian's smile faded. "What did she say?"

  "She suggested I reconsider Lady Emmeline's offer." Natalie kept her voice neutral, though the effort cost her. "Apparently, service in a noble provincial household would be 'appropriate for my capabilities.'"

  Julian was silent for a moment, watching her with an intensity that made her nervous. "And what did you tell her?"

  "That I would consider it," Natalie replied honestly. "It wasn't a request so much as a direction, thinly disguised."

  "I see." Julian set his book aside, his expression unreadable. "And is that what you want? To leave for Lady Emmeline's household?"

  The question echoed their earlier conversation in the garden, weeks ago. Then, as now, the honest answer was no. Despite everything—despite the complications, the deception at the heart of her existence, the growing danger of feelings that could never be acknowledged—she didn't want to leave him.

  But what she wanted and what was necessary were increasingly divergent paths.

  "What I want doesn't matter," she said quietly. "The Empress has made her preferences clear. And with Genevieve already established in your household..."

  "So you believe I intend to repce you with Genevieve," Julian concluded, his tone oddly ft.

  "Don't you?" Natalie countered, too weary from the day's emotional strain to maintain perfect formality. "You've allowed her to take over duties that were mine. You seem comfortable with her presence, her suggestions. The Empress approves of her. She's properly trained, well-connected, suitable in every way that I am not."

  "You haven't answered my question," Julian said, rising from his chair to approach her. "Do you want to leave?"

  "No," Natalie admitted finally, the truth escaping despite her better judgment. "But I don't see that I have much choice."

  Julian studied her face for a long moment. "Would it matter to you if I said I don't want Genevieve as my senior attendant? That I accepted her into the household only because direct refusal of the Empress's 'suggestion' would have raised questions I'm not prepared to answer?"

  Confusion repced some of Natalie's resignation. "I don't understand."

  "Don't you?" Julian's expression held that same strange satisfaction she had glimpsed earlier. "I wanted to see how you would react to her presence. To someone taking your pce at my side."

  The implication slowly dawned on Natalie. "You were testing me," she realized, her voice hollow with disbelief.

  "I was," Julian acknowledged without apology. "I needed to know if the thought of being repced bothered you as much as..." He hesitated, then continued more carefully, "As much as it would bother me to lose you."

  The admission hung between them, not quite a decration but far more than professional courtesy.

  "And what did you conclude from this test?" Natalie asked, unable to keep the hurt from her voice.

  "That you care," Julian said simply. "More than you're willing to admit. That the thought of someone else taking your pce causes you pain—not just professional disruption, but personal distress."

  Natalie felt stripped bare by his assessment, her carefully hidden feelings exposed to his scrutiny. "That was cruel," she said quietly.

  "Perhaps," Julian conceded. "But necessary. You've become so adept at hiding your thoughts from me, Natalie. At maintaining that perfect attendant's mask. I needed to see beneath it."

  "Why?" The question emerged as barely more than a whisper.

  Julian took a step closer, close enough that she could see the flecks of amber in his eyes, the slight tension in his jaw. "Because I need to know if I'm alone in what I feel. If the connection between us exists only in my imagination."

  There it was—the acknowledgment they had been circling for months. Not quite a confession, but a question that demanded truth she wasn't prepared to give.

  "Julian," she began, unsure what could possibly follow his name.

  "You don't need to say anything now," he interrupted gently. "Just know that I have no intention of repcing you with Genevieve or anyone else. Whatever the Empress might prefer."

  Relief mingled with apprehension in Natalie's chest. "And when she insists? When 'suggestions' become commands?"

  "Then we'll face that challenge together," Julian replied with the quiet confidence that had developed as he matured. "As we have faced others."

  The "we" encompassed years of shared challenges, shared triumphs, a partnership that had evolved beyond the boundaries of prince and attendant. It offered comfort even as it complicated everything.

  "What about Genevieve?" Natalie asked practically.

  Julian's smile returned, touched with mischief that reminded her of the boy he had been. "Genevieve will find her considerable talents better suited to the Empress's household, I think. Her reports on my activities will be more valuable there anyway."

  "You think she's reporting to the Empress?" Natalie asked, though it made perfect sense.

  "I know she is," Julian confirmed. "Which is precisely why I've been perfectly proper and appropriately princely in her presence. She'll have nothing interesting to report beyond my unexpected interest in Southern fan communication."

  Despite everything, Natalie found herself smiling at his strategic thinking. "You've become quite the politician."

  "I've had an excellent teacher," Julian replied, his eyes holding hers with warmth that made her pulse quicken. "One I have no intention of losing, regardless of what my stepmother might prefer."

  The certainty in his voice offered temporary comfort, though Natalie knew the Empress's concerns wouldn't be so easily dismissed. Sooner or ter, they would face more direct challenges to her position in Julian's household. And beneath those practical concerns y the deeper complication of feelings neither could safely acknowledge but both increasingly recognized.

  For tonight, however, they had reached a fragile equilibrium—an unspoken understanding that whatever came next, they would face it as they always had: together.

  As Natalie prepared to retire to her chambers, Julian stopped her with a gentle touch on her arm. "Natalie," he said softly, "I'm sorry if my methods caused you pain. That wasn't my intention."

  The sincerity in his voice made it impossible to maintain her hurt. "I know," she acknowledged. "You've never been deliberately cruel."

  "Unlike Augustus," Julian said with a hint of darkness, "I don't enjoy seeing others suffer. Especially those I—" He stopped himself, recalibrating. "Especially those I value."

  The amended phrase couldn't disguise what he had nearly said. Natalie pretended not to notice, though her heart beat faster at the implication.

  "Goodnight, Julian," she said, carefully removing her arm from his light grasp.

  "Goodnight, Natalie," he replied, allowing her retreat but watching her with an expression that suggested their conversation was far from concluded—merely postponed to a time when both might be braver, or circumstances less complicated.

  In her chamber, Natalie stood before her small mirror, studying the reflection that concealed as much as it revealed. Julian had tested her feelings and found exactly what he had hoped to discover—she cared more than an attendant should for her prince. What he couldn't know was how impossible those feelings were, how fundamentally they were built on deception.

  Yet tonight had crified something for Natalie as well. Julian's deliberate test, his relief at confirming her jealousy, his near-confession of deeper feelings—these weren't the actions of a prince who merely valued a loyal servant. Julian cared for her, perhaps even loved her, in ways that transcended their formal roles.

  This realization brought both joy and terror. Joy that her feelings, impossible as they might be, were not unrequited. Terror that each day brought them closer to a moment of truth she couldn't predict or control.

  For now, Genevieve's presence had served its purpose—revealing feelings on both sides that could no longer be entirely denied, even if they remained unspoken. But the greater challenges still loomed: the Empress's disapproval, Julian's eventual marriage negotiations, and most dangerous of all, the truth of Natalie's identity.

  Against these obstacles, even mutual feeling seemed hopelessly inadequate protection. Yet for tonight, knowing that Julian had fought to keep her at his side—had even maniputed circumstances to confirm her feelings matched his own—provided a bittersweet comfort as Natalie prepared for sleep.

  Tomorrow would bring its own complications. But for this moment, she allowed herself to acknowledge what she had been denying for too long: she loved Julian, not just as the frightened boy she had befriended or the prince she had served, but as the young man he had become—thoughtful, strategic, occasionally mischievous, and unfailingly kind.

  That this love could lead only to heartbreak seemed increasingly certain. But tonight, in the privacy of her chamber, Natalie permitted herself a small, sad smile at the irony of their situation. The prince had tested his attendant's feelings using jealousy as his tool—and had discovered exactly what he hoped to find, exactly what she had tried to hide, exactly what could never be openly acknowledged between them.

  A perfect strategy for an impossible situation.