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After Sehren and Sebil returned to the servants' quarters, Sebil nudged her with her elbow, raising an eyebrow quizzically. "Well, what did you think?"
Sehren, caught between exasperation and disbelief, could only stare at her. Sebil's constant meddling was sure to get them both in trouble, if not cast out or worse—imprisoned. The thought of losing her place here, the only place she had left, sent a chill through her. "Are you joking?" she finally said, her voice strained.
Sebil only shrugged, a grin playing at her lips. "We weren't caught. You worry too much."
The ease with which Sebil dismissed the danger irritated Sehren.
"Well, what did you think about what they said?" Sebil asked, expectantly.
"Think? I think we'll both get in trouble!" Sehren exclaimed in a shrill tone. "We're not paid to think or listen to conversations we have no business in!"
"Why are you getting so hysterical?" Sebil shot back, lowering her voice. "We could've come up with some excuse if we were caught. You don't have to overreact. Nothing even happened."
"Nothing happened?" Sehren's eyes widened in disbelief. "Were you hoping something would happen? You think that excuses it? You'll have us both thrown into the dungeons, or worse. This isn't gossip among the servants, Sebil, these are noblemen. They'll do more than scold us if we're found out."
"You need to calm down before everyone hears you and does exactly what you're afraid of." Sebil laughed. Her smile was too carefree for Sehren's liking, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "And besides, no one's going to do that because you have Lord W."
"Lord W?" Sehren's voice grew louder, her frustration boiling over. "Who is this Lord W? If he were so powerful, why do I have to serve alongside other servants? Why doesn't he put me up in his house or keep me in the stables? Why am I here?"
Sebil's amusement faded, her face startled by Sehren's outburst.
"Were you betting on Lord W to come to our rescue?" Sehren continued, her voice bitter. "I've been here for months, and I haven't heard another word about him. He certainly hasn't been helping me."
Sebil looked confused. "How much more help do you need? He's given you a place to work in the palace, where everyone wants to be. We get good wages, and you get to keep all of yours. We eat well. Meat with every meal. There's less work here than in a private home."
Sehren didn't want to argue about the fairness of it all. Turning away from Sebil, she retreated to the dormitory, her mind still racing.
Lying down in her straw bed, Sehren's heart felt heavy from the events of the day. She felt guilty for shouting at Sebil, but her stubbornness kept her from apologizing. Sleep seemed like the only escape from the day's frustrations.
In the days that followed, Sebil ignored her. At first, Sehren didn't mind. The quiet gave her peace, free from Sebil's dangerous curiosity. But the silence soon became unbearable. She felt more alone than ever. The gossip and stories Sebil always had now seemed like the only connection she had to the world beyond her daily tasks. She longed for the camaraderie she once had in the stables, where her father's friends were like family and the stable boys like brothers.
Her thoughts drifted back to those days, of sneaking the king's horse out with the boys and riding through the moonlit forest. To exercise the horses they would ride them around the large royal parkland all the way down to the edge of the forest. The horses there were lively and affectionate, craving human contact. Sehren wondered if the stable boys still rode at night like they used to, galloping through the fields despite the rules.
The saddle burns and soreness of her early days on horseback were nothing compared to the aching solitude she felt now. Her father had promised her a foal from the royal bloodstock, but he had passed before he could give it to her, the sickness taking both him and the last broodmare.
Brenna gave Sehren rather peculiar tasks to do in the coming days. Assigning her tasks which none of the other servant girls did, like working in the kitchen and garden, moving supply crates and standing still in the dining hall when the princess ate.
One evening, Brenna singled her out to send to the kitchen. Servants from the palace avoided kitchen work—it was too hot, and the tasks were menial. "I'm tired of seeing you loitering about and wasting time," Brenna spat. "Go to the kitchen, they need an extra pair of hands."
As she scrubbed at the endless grime in the kitchen, Sehren's thoughts returned to Sebil. The silence between them felt heavier than the pots she washed, lingering like a weight she couldn't shake. No matter how irritated Sebil made her, Sehren couldn't deny that she was the only one in the palace who felt familiar in a sea of strangers. The long days in the kitchen felt endless, and her hands became dry, cracked, and irritated from the hot water and harsh soaps. The skin around her knuckles tightened and toughened, her nail beds black and blistered.
One thing Sehren couldn't escape was the way the kitchen overwhelmed her senses, drawing her into a world both familiar and stifling. In the mornings, flour rose like pale mist, coating the air as bakers pressed their hands into dough with a practiced rhythm. The thick scent of yeast swelled, filling every corner of the room with a warmth that was at once comforting and suffocating. Bread emerged from the hearth, golden and crisp, then quickly sliced into perfectly sized loaves. By evening, the hearth's orange light flickered against the walls casting dancing shadows harmonizing with the rich aroma of roasting meat mingled with the sizzling of fat and popping of herbs.
The morning Sehren met one of the subjects of Sebil's rumors was another chaotic day. Marla, the head chef, was bellowing orders, her voice echoing across the room as everyone scurried to keep up when she suddenly turned to someone working in a corner alone.
"Why can't you get anything right?" Marla snapped at one of the younger girls, Cora. The girl stood, pale and trembling, as Marla's anger poured over her. "You think you're clever, but you're nothing but a clumsy fool! Get out of my sight before you ruin everything."
Cora's lip quivered, her knuckles white as she clutched a bowl to her chest. Sehren saw the tears welling up and felt a pang of empathy.
"It's alright," Sehren whispered as she approached. "You did your best. Marla's just—"
"I don't need your pity," Cora snapped, her eyes flashing with pride and disgust.
Sehren watched as Cora stormed away, stung by the sharpness of her words. Yet, a part of her understood the reaction all too well. She had lashed out at Sebil in much the same way. Perhaps Cora's pride was her shield, just as Sehren's silence had become hers.
Sehren's regular duties after days of exhausting work in the kitchen made her feel out of place once more. Sebil, who had once seemed like a constant presence, now avoided her entirely. She didn't speak to Sehren or look her in the eye, and whenever they were in the same room, Sebil would find a reason to leave or busy herself with tasks, never acknowledging Sehren's presence.
The coldness was sharp and obvious. Sebil would laugh and chat with the other maids, sharing bits of gossip and stories about the upper class. Sehren often overheard snatches of their conversations—exciting whispers about noble scandals, secret affairs, and upcoming events in the royal family—but none of it ever included her.
"Have you heard the latest about Cora?" Sebil grinned mischievously, her eyes glinting with the thrill of fresh gossip. She leaned in, her voice dropping to a hushed whisper as if she held the kingdom's most precious secret. "Caught sneaking around with one of the stable boys late at night. Supposedly, they're lovers."
The other maid gasped, her eyes widening with interest as she clutched her broom tighter. "No!" she whispered back, leaning closer to Sebil.
"Oh yes." Sebil's lips curved into a smirk, her voice laced with satisfaction. "But you didn't hear it from me." She winked, her tone full of conspiratorial delight, before leaning in even closer. "Apparently, Brenna found out and was furious. She said no one's allowed to court like that without permission, let alone be sneaking around at night. Especially not Cora, of all people."
For the rest of the week, whenever Sehren worked in the kitchen she couldn't help but observe Cora from a distance. Despite her harshness, the girl was quick-witted, clever in the way she managed to navigate the kitchen chaos. The others seemed to like her, and she was alarmingly adept at juggling multiple tasks at once. She found her working on a stew, some vegetables and a desert all at once. Sehren saw that Cora wasn't someone to be easily crushed. She didn't break a sweat working on pounds of dough alone, and she didn't appear impatient working with other more incompetent cooks. Occasionally, though Cora's brows briefly betrayed her annoyance, she did not say anything disagreeable. And Sehren's opinion of her was very favorable despite her initial lashing out at Sehren.
One afternoon, as Sehren dusted the heavy tapestries lining the hallway near the servants' quarters, she heard Sebil's voice, lively and animated as she spoke with a group of other maids by the stairwell. Sehren paused, her hand hovering over the fabric as their words drifted toward her.
"Did you hear about Lady Althea?" one of the maids asked in a hushed tone.
Sebil grinned, leaning in conspiratorially. "Oh, I heard everything. They say she's engaged to a duke—someone from a wealthy northern family. But the best part? She's been seen sneaking out of the palace at night. With the captain of the guard."
The other maids gasped in delight, hanging on Sebil's every word. Sehren couldn't help but feel a pang of envy. Sebil was in the middle of everything—always at the heart of the palace's most exciting and scandalous rumors, while Sehren felt like an outsider, pushed even further away after their argument.
"Imagine!" one of the maids giggled. "If her fiancé finds out..."
"He won't," Sebil said with certainty, her voice carrying a smug edge. "People like Lady Althea always find a way to keep their secrets. They can afford to. It's us who would get thrown out or worse for being caught where we don't belong."
There was a flicker of something in Sebil's tone—almost like a hidden warning. Sehren wondered if it was meant for her. A reminder of their last escapade, the one that had nearly led them into dangerous territory with the nobles. Sebil had moved on without her, carrying on with the gossip and schemes, while Sehren had been left on the fringes.
When working in the kitchen, Sehren observed Cora from a distance, despite their tense first encounter. The girl, quick-witted and alarmingly efficient, seemed to thrive in the chaos of the kitchen. While others fumbled or struggled with the pace, Cora moved with practiced ease, effortlessly juggling a simmering stew, vegetables, and even a dessert all at once.
Sehren noted how, despite her small stature, Cora never broke a sweat while working through pounds of dough alone. Even when faced with the slow or clumsy efforts of other cooks, her brow only occasionally furrowed in silent frustration. Still, she never voiced a complaint. It became clear to Sehren that Cora wasn't someone who could be easily crushed. In fact, beneath her initial sharpness, there was a calm resilience that Sehren couldn't help but admire.
Sehren found herself thinking more highly of the girl who had first lashed out at her—wondering, perhaps, if her pride concealed something deeper.
Marla's voice cut through her contemplation. "Sehren! Stop standing around and make yourself useful. Go fetch the ingredients for the stew—ask Cora what she needs."
Sehren nodded, her heart sinking slightly. She approached Cora, who was already focused on the simmering pot. Cora barely looked up, her brow furrowed in concentration.
"What do you need for the stew?" Sehren asked, her voice tentative.
Cora glanced at her briefly. "Get me the brisket from the pantry, the one wrapped in cloth. And carrots, onions, and turnips—fresh ones." Her tone was clipped, as though every second spent talking was a distraction.
Sehren gave a quick nod and hurried to the pantry, her nerves on edge. The storeroom was dim and quiet, a stark contrast to the bustling kitchen. She searched the shelves and bins, her eyes scanning for the brisket. Wrapped meat sat in several places, but no pantry worker was there to help. She hesitated, reaching for a bundle that looked right and quickly gathered the vegetables Cora had asked for.
When she returned to the kitchen, Cora took one look at the meat and her face hardened. "What is this?" she snapped, her voice louder than Sehren expected. Several heads turned their way.
Sehren blinked, confused. "The brisket, like you asked."
Cora's eyes flashed with fury. "This isn't brisket, it's flank! Are you trying to sabotage the stew?" Her voice rose, accusing, and Sehren's heart lurched. "You can't just throw anything into this pot and expect it to turn out fine!"
"I didn't mean—" Sehren stammered, caught off guard by the outburst. "I couldn't find the pantry worker, and I thought—"
"You thought wrong!" Cora hissed, her face flushed with frustration. "Do you even know how long I've been working on this stew? One mistake, and you'll ruin it!"
Sehren felt heat rise in her cheeks, her pulse quickening. "I wasn't trying to ruin anything! I just—"
"Then why bring me the wrong meat?!" Cora's anger showed no sign of calming, her hands gripping the edge of the counter. "Either you're careless or you're doing this on purpose!"
Sehren opened her mouth, but no words came out. She had only wanted to help, to do something right in the endless string of monotonous chores. But now, she felt small under Cora's glare, her good intentions twisted into something malicious.
For a moment, silence stretched between them, the heat of the kitchen intensifying the tension. Finally, Sehren took a breath, her voice trembling but firm. "I wasn't trying to sabotage anything, Cora. I made a mistake, that's all. I'll go back and get the right meat."
Cora's eyes narrowed, but her harsh expression wavered for a moment. Her lips pressed together as if she were weighing her next words.
"Fine," Cora said, her voice still sharp but quieter now. "Just... hurry up. We don't have all day."
Sehren turned quickly, rushing back to the pantry. This time a man followed her in. He showed her the right meat. Her hands shook as she replaced the wrong cut of meat with the brisket Cora had asked for. The pantry felt colder now, or maybe it was the weight of Cora's words hanging over her.
When she returned and handed the brisket over, Cora took it without a word, tossing it into the stew. The clatter of the kitchen resumed around them, but the silence between the two of them lingered.
Sehren hesitated, unsure whether to speak or simply leave. After a long pause, Cora broke the silence.
"Next time," she said, her voice low but less cutting, "ask me if you're not sure. I don't have time to fix mistakes, especially ones like that."
Sehren nodded, not trusting herself to speak, but a part of her relaxed at the shift in tone. Maybe Cora's anger hadn't been as personal as it seemed.
As Sehren moved to gather the vegetables, she couldn't help but glance at Cora, who had returned to stirring the pot with a focused intensity. Sehren wondered if the outburst had been more about something else entirely. Either way, it didn't make the sting of the accusation any easier to bear.
Laughter and voices left Sehren feeling isolated, one morning. Sehren bit her lip, feeling a surge of frustration. She wasn't interested in gossip, not like Sebil was, but the isolation gnawed at her. Sebil's snubbing wasn't just about ignoring her; it was a sharp reminder that she no longer had a place in their little circle.
For days, the pattern continued. Sebil kept her distance, every interaction between the other servants filled with laughter and lively discussion about the lives of the wealthy. Whenever Sehren passed by, she caught the glint of Sebil's sidelong glance, cool and dismissive. The gulf between them widened with each day that Sebil turned away.
The banquet had been delayed because of the king's poor health, Sehren found Sebil announcing to a small crowd in the servants' hall. Sehren ate her porridge silently as the crowd listened intently.
"The king's health has taken a turn for the worse!" Sebil exclaimed. "Long live our king, but he doesn't even have an heir. What will happen to the throne? To the kingdom?"
"They'll likely hand it over to Princess Giselle," said a man's voice.
"The foreigner!" gasped a woman, almost indignantly.
"How dare you! It would've gone to her had the late king not had a son."
"She's to be married to the enemy. She's as good as," another chimed in.
"For shame! Our lovely Princess Giselle. I remember her when she was an obedient, polite little angel, when she first learned to walk and talk. She would curtsey and call everyone 'miss' or 'mister'."
"Prince what's-his-name is ready to usurp the throne! He's probably the one who did it."
"Did what?"
"Poisoned the king, he did!"
The common room broke into a clamor and chaos of shouting and indignant voices. Those in support of the princess and those against the Ashengord kingdom argued back and forth, but everyone seemed almost sure the king would die this time.
"No one's seen him for days," Brenna said, her voice low and almost concerned. "I wonder whether he's taking his meals."
"He won't let anyone into his room. Not the knights, not his advisers, and not even the princess," added the butler.
Sehren kept her head down, her stomach twisting with the unease that had settled in the palace. It had been days since any word had come from the king's chambers, and the uncertainty was beginning to creep through every corner of the castle. Rumors of poisoning, of the kingdom's fate, weighed heavily in the air.
Sebil turned the conversation toward the banquet, her voice brightening despite the grim mood. She spoke of the guests that would be invited. "Apparently, because the banquet is being delayed, the princess promised to compensate the guests traveling from far away by extending the banquet from a single night to a seven-day event. All the guests will stay in various rooms in the palace."
This news sent another ripple of concern through the servants.
"I hope these lords bring their servants, or else how are we to look after them all!" a servant girl said.
"They'll hire new help from the surrounding village for the seven nights," another one added.
"Then we won't have any place to put them up in!"
"Well, you want help or don't you?"
Sehren felt her stomach tighten at the thought of a seven-day banquet. The extended banquet felt like an eternity in the making, and she wasn't sure how they'd get through it. The palace was already buzzing with tension, and now, the servants would be stretched even thinner. She could already feel the exhaustion creeping in, knowing the demands of the nobles would only grow with each passing day.
So when Brenna suddenly ordered her to go out and work unloading crates, Sehren was more than grateful.
Eager to stay out of Mistress Brenna's way, Sehren took on these tasks without complaint, suspecting that this varied workload was Brenna's way of punishing her for the quarrel with Sebil. Yet carrying bags of flour and crates of potatoes proved no real challenge for Sehren. She much preferred the physical labor to the constant drudgery of mopping and cleaning, where her hands were forever damp and aching from scrubbing floors.
One of the delivery men, noticing her plight, took pity on her and quietly pointed out Brenna's close allies among the other servants. He advised Sehren to feign greater difficulty with the bags than she truly experienced, in hopes of tricking Mistress Brenna into assigning her to this work more often. Grateful for the suggestion, Sehren resolved to try his tactic.
Whenever one of Brenna's cronies appeared in the yard, Sehren would slow her pace and approach the task with exaggerated effort. She bent low under the weight of a flour sack, her back straining as though the burden were too great. Her face, flushed with false exertion, bore a tight-lipped expression of concentration. She let her breath come out in labored huffs, pausing every few steps to catch it, while a delicate sheen of sweat dampened her brow. With each lift, she gave a slight wince, as though the simple act of carrying had become a monumental task. From a distance, it might have seemed as though Sehren were nearly overwhelmed by the labor, though, in truth, her movements were as sure as ever.
More often than not, talks among the maids in the palace returned to Cora and the stable boy. This time the boy's identity was uncovered. Sehren sat in a small alcove above where the maids usually gathered. Sebil's whispers cut through the stillness like a blade. Sehren, dusting nearby, caught every word. She tried to focus on her task, her hand moving over the rich fabric of the tapestries, but her mind was fixed on the gossip being spun behind her.
Her stomach churned uncomfortably. She knew the stable boy they were talking about—Joshen, a quiet, thoughtful lad who often tended to the horses she used to care for. His shy smile and calm demeanor had always struck her as kind, not the sort to sneak around with maids in the dead of night. And Cora... Despite their rough start, Sehren had come to respect her in the kitchen. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this rumor than Sebil was letting on.
Sehren bit her lip as Sebil's gossip rang in her ears, the playful glint in her friend's eyes now felt cold. The rumors—if they reached Joshen—could cause harm. Sehren's thoughts turned to him, imagining his quiet smile fading under the weight of such slander.
She tried to push it from her mind as the maids' laughter echoed down the hall, but the knot in her stomach didn't go away. Over the next couple of hours, the rumor gnawed at her, her thoughts returning again and again to Joshen's quiet smile and Cora's no-nonsense attitude in the kitchen. It didn't make sense.
One afternoon, while working on restocking the pantry, one of the delivery men who had taken an unusual interest in Sehren, smiled as he approached her during their break. "We've had to order extra supplies because of the banquet," he remarked casually, leaning in a little closer than Sehren would have liked.
She nodded, distracted, wiping the sweat from her brow. "Normally, I don't have the opportunity to chat with patrons." He smiled.
Sehren could not help but notice his frequent attempts at conversation. Every time their paths crossed, he would stop to exchange a few words, always eager to help her with the lifting—whether it was a bag or the other end of a crate. She suspected he liked her.
He wasn't unpleasant to look at—strong, with thick auburn hair and a chiseled jaw. He possessed the features she had once thought a man ought to have. And yet, there was something in her, some quiet resistance, that held her immune to his charms. She wondered if it had anything to do with the events of the last night of the Autumn Moon. But Sehren wasn't in the mood for his flirtations. Her mind was too preoccupied with Sebil.
"No one here is worth having a conversation with," Sehren shrugged, her thoughts drifting toward their last encounter over and over. "Better to keep to yourself than be dragged into bad company."
"I hope I'm not among that bad company you speak of," he joked, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
Sehren forced a small smile but found her thoughts wandering elsewhere. No one seems to be checking these crates for poison. she mused, a crease forming in her brow. Shouldn't there be more vigilance, especially when the king's life has been so frequently in peril?
His voice interrupted her thoughts. "I was wondering if you might join me for a walk to the town square?"
The lack of proper security will be our downfall, Sehren continued in her private reflection. No one has even come from the temple to inquire after him. Or perhaps they have, and I simply don't know—now that I no longer hear anything from Sebil. The thought brought a pang of sadness.
"I thought the square might offer a better place for conversation. A bit quieter." His tone was gentle, hopeful.
It was wrong of her to take me there that night, without a word of warning Sehren thought, frowning. And she never even apologized. Brenna dislikes me enough as it is—if I had been caught, I might've lost not only my position but my livelihood.
"As I said, it's not just the two of us," he continued, almost as if sensing her reluctance. "Sebil will join us, along with Arter from the stables."
At the mention of Sebil's name, Sehren looked up sharply. Her gaze fixed on him, searching his face as if to discern his true intent.
"What time will you be free tomorrow?" he asked, his question bringing her back to the present.
"After noon," Sehren replied absentmindedly, still caught in her own thoughts. "I'll be free after noon."
"Tomorrow, then?" the man prompted, smiling.
Sehren hesitated, her heart in turmoil. "Yes, after noon," she replied absently, already thinking of how she might approach Sebil, what she might say.
"Excellent. I'll meet you at the supply gate, one hour past noon," he said with a grin, then turned and skipped off, leaving her standing there. Sehren watched him go, trying to recall what exactly she had just agreed to. I'll speak to Sebil and apologize, she resolved. This has all gone on long enough.
As the delivery man walked away, Sehren felt the weight of her agreement settle uncomfortably on her shoulders. She knew that ignoring the gossip wouldn't make it disappear. If anything, it would grow, twist into something far worse. And Joshen—kind, quiet Joshen—didn't deserve to be caught in the web of palace rumors. Sehren straightened her back and resolved to find him.
That day Sehren found herself walking down to the stables, her steps slow and hesitant. She hadn't planned on coming here—she wasn't one to meddle, especially not with rumors—but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Maybe if she just talked to Joshen, she could understand what was really happening. Or maybe it was simply her nervous energy pushing her to act, something to quell the unease that had settled in her chest.
The stables were quiet in the late afternoon, the sun casting long golden shadows across the hay-strewn floors. The familiar scent of horses and leather filled the air, bringing a sense of calm that soothed some of Sehren's nerves.
As Sehren approached, she spotted him near the back, brushing down one of the royal horses. His back was turned, but the moment her soft footsteps reached his ears, he looked up—and the transformation in his face was instant.
"Sehren!" Joshen exclaimed, his expression lighting up like a beacon. Before she could even reply, he dropped the brush and strode over to her, his eyes crinkling with warmth. "It's been ages!"
With the familiarity of an old friend or family, Joshen wrapped her in a tight hug, lifting her slightly off her feet in his enthusiasm. He laughed, a deep, heartwarming sound that filled the quiet stable. "By the gods, where have you been hiding?"
When he set her down, he kissed her cheek fondly, the affection in the gesture warming Sehren in a way she hadn't expected. It was rare for anyone in the palace to greet her with such warmth—certainly not the other servants.
Sehren, caught off guard by the familiarity but smiling, felt a wave of comfort wash over her. "I... I've been working in the palace," she stammered, a small laugh escaping her lips despite her nerves. "You know how it is. They keep me too busy to breathe."
Joshen grinned, his hand resting briefly on her shoulder as if to reassure her. "They would," he said, his voice light with amusement. "You always were too hardworking for your own good. But you look well." He pulled back slightly, his eyes scanning her face with a brotherly fondness. "So, what's been going on? What trouble have they been putting you through?"
Sehren felt a pang of guilt at his easy affection, knowing what had brought her here. But Joshen's warmth melted away some of her hesitation. She swallowed and tried to keep her tone casual. "Actually, Joshen, I've been hearing... things."
He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head in that gentle way he always did when he was curious. "Things? What kind of things?"
Sehren shifted slightly, glancing down at the straw-covered floor. "There's a rumor going around the palace... about you and Cora."
Joshen's playful grin faded, his face growing more serious. His arms, which had still been loosely draped around her shoulders, dropped as he stepped back. He sighed, a hand running through his tousled hair. "I figured that would spread," he muttered, more to himself than to her.
Sehren glanced up, seeing the weariness creep into his eyes. "So... it's not true, then?"
Joshen shook his head, his expression softening as he looked at her. "No, it's not true. Cora and I aren't like that. She was just helping me... I've been trying to meet with a girl from the village, and Cora's been covering for me so I could sneak out after curfew. But Brenna found out, and she assumed the worst." He sighed again, stepping over to lean against the stable wall, his fingers absently brushing the horse's mane.
Sehren's heart eased, though the weight of the palace rumors still sat heavy in her chest. She let out a long breath, relieved. "So, it's all just a misunderstanding."
"Yeah," Joshen said, his voice now tinged with bitterness. "But you know how it is. Once people start talking, there's no stopping it."
Sehren stepped closer, her hand resting lightly on his arm. "I'm sorry, Joshen. I didn't mean to pry or add to it. I just... I couldn't believe it when I heard it, and I needed to know the truth."
Joshen's warm smile returned, though a bit more subdued this time. He placed his hand over hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm glad you asked, Sehren. I'd rather you come to me than believe the nonsense floating around. Cora doesn't deserve to get dragged through this mess because of me."
Sehren smiled, a soft warmth filling her chest at the sincerity in his voice. "I'll do what I can to keep the rumors down. Maybe... maybe it'll fade if we don't add fuel to it."
"Thanks," Joshen said, his voice lightening again. He leaned in playfully, dropping his voice to a teasing whisper. "But if you hear any new gossip, let me know, will you? I could use a laugh." He winked, his eyes twinkling.
Sehren laughed softly, her nerves finally easing. "I'll keep that in mind."
As Sehren walked away, a strange heaviness settled in her chest. Joshen's warmth was a reminder of what she had lost—what palace life had taken from her.
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