Katherine was so focused on the scene below—watching the Prince and his companion converse in the courtyard—that she almost missed the soft tapping at her door. By the time she realized someone had knocked, the door had already opened, and Rose came rushing in, tears glittering in her eyes.

"Katherine!" Rose cried, crossing the room in quick strides and flinging her arms around Katherine's neck. "I was so afraid he'd killed you for what happened."

Katherine returned the embrace with a hesitant smile. "No," she whispered. "He didn't."

Rose eased back, studying Katherine's face with a mixture of relief and concern. "Maria found out you were gone and raised the alarm. After that...I feared the worst."

Katherine felt tears prick at the corners of her own eyes as she forced down a swell of emotion. If only I had never left the court that night... Then none of this would have happened. She wouldn't now be a captive in this fortress, at the mercy of a man who might eventually do far worse than simply kill her.

A sudden, timid knock broke the moment, and a maid stepped into the chamber, dropping a brief curtsey. "My ladies, the court will attend vespers in the chapel. I'm here to help you prepare."

"Yes, please," Rose said brightly, as though she were perfectly delighted by this prospect. "We'd be honored to join His Grace for mass."

At her signal, a small troupe of handmaids entered, each carrying some article of clothing or a casket of jewelry. Katherine felt too drained to protest as they dressed her in a crimson gown—rich velvet, tailored close to her form. As the maids were affixing the final lace, the door swung open, and Maria swept in, a cluster of her own attendants trailing behind.

"Crimson?" Maria remarked, arching one brow. "A color fit for a queen—or the favored harlot of a king."

Rose stiffened. "Do shut your mouth, Maria. You wanted to be in Katherine's place yourself, but His Grace rebuffed you. Don't blame her for catching his eye when you failed. Or has your dear brother's pleas, groveling for a position at court, inflated your ego again?"

Katherine stood silent, watching the exchange. She surmised that Rose and Maria must have been bickering like this throughout their journey, and the scornful tension hung heavy in the air. Just then, one of the maids touched Katherine's arm.

"My lady," the maid said quietly, "His Grace expects you to wear the jewelry he's sent. He won't be pleased if you refuse."

Katherine followed the maid's gaze to the polished wooden chest she held: a box inlaid with the Prince's dragon sigil, its curling tail carved into the dark wood. She hesitated, letting her fingers trace the delicate design. The wood felt almost warm, as though alive. A small shudder rippled through her, but she forced herself to flip the tiny clasp.

Inside was a golden hairnet of exquisite workmanship, studded with dozens of rubies set into intricate, intertwining petals. The maids—and even Maria—fell briefly silent, taken aback by the costly splendor.

"It's magnificent," Rose murmured, brushing a fingertip lightly over the delicate gold filigree.

Katherine stared at the gleaming rubies. The piece was fit for royalty. Was it meant as payment for her "services," or did the Prince simply enjoy adorning his possessions before he used them? The thought turned her stomach. Abruptly, she snapped the lid shut, pushing the chest aside. "I won't wear it. Not today."

Rose's eyes widened. "Katherine, you shouldn't spurn the Prince's gifts. You know how he is—you'll only provoke him."

With a heavy sigh, Katherine closed her eyes, recalling her earlier resolve. She had already chosen the path of least resistance; angering him now served no purpose. "You're right," she admitted quietly. "I shouldn't risk his displeasure."

Maria let out a sardonic laugh. "Better for you, then. May he never discover what you truly think of his little trinkets."

Katherine's temper flared at the memory of Maria's slander. "Don't worry, Lady Maria. He's already well aware of my feelings."

"Enough," Rose interjected, eager to defuse the tension. She reached for the jeweled hairnet and deftly pinned it into Katherine's hair. The rubies caught the torchlight, glowing like embers. When Rose finished, she bent close, her voice low enough that only Katherine could hear. "You look regal, as though he means to make you his queen. This isn't just a gift, Katherine—it's a promise. But come on now, we'll be late."

Katherine tried to force a smile, but inside she felt betrayed and frightened, uncertain how Rose could remain so willfully blind to the ugly truth of her predicament. Taking Katherine's hand, Rose pulled her away from Maria's hostile sneer. "We'd better go," she said. "Before she starts any more trouble."

They navigated the fortress's sprawling corridors—a maze of high-arched hallways and looming tapestries—until they reached the chapel. "Do you suppose the Prince himself will attend?" Katherine asked, her voice hushed.

Rose nodded. "I believe so. He attends all major services and vespers, and everyone's expected to follow."

Katherine followed Rose's brisk pace, walking among murmuring courtiers who converged on the chapel entrance. The place was already packed, an undercurrent of quiet voices echoing off stone walls. Katherine's gaze swept the vaulted ceiling, pausing on the carved figure of a dragon with its tail wrapped around its neck. Something about the carving made her skin crawl.

"Katherine?" Rose asked gently, noticing her preoccupation.

She shook herself. "It's nothing. Let's go in."

Together they slipped into a corner near the back, where the shadows provided some distance from the curious stares. Despite Rose's reassurance, Katherine could feel the weight of gossiping eyes on her. Some nobles cast sidelong glances, whispering behind raised hands.

"There's a lot of talk about you," Rose whispered. "All I've heard in the past few hours is speculation about the 'new favorite,' and how you might disrupt their hopes of winning the Prince's favor."

Katherine pressed her back against the stone wall, wishing she could vanish. "They have nothing to envy," she said with quiet bitterness.

Before Rose could respond, a hush fell. The congregation sank to their knees or bowed low. The Prince had entered. He was dressed starkly, his garments plain compared to the dazzling court around him. Yet no one doubted his authority. Men and women alike averted their eyes, too intimidated to meet the gaze of their sovereign.

Katherine, however, watched him intently, noting the controlled power in his every step. He approached the Metropolitan near the altar and knelt to kiss the priest's ring—a gesture that struck Katherine as mechanical, empty of any real devotion. Even so, once he rose, he managed to command the entire chapel with nothing more than a slight incline of his head, signaling the commencement of vespers.

The service was lengthy, the chanting echoing through the chamber. Katherine's legs ached from standing. She found her gaze drawn constantly back to the Prince: how he bowed his head, how he even made the sign of the cross in time with the prayers. When he went up to receive Communion, she half expected some monstrous reaction—yet nothing happened. Perhaps he isn't the literal spawn of darkness, she thought, just a cruel man with an unholy power over others.

At last, the Metropolitan concluded the service with a blessing, arms raised to trace the sign of the cross. Priests followed him down the nave, disappearing into a side chamber. The Prince turned away from the altar and moved purposefully down the aisle. Katherine tried to bow like everyone else, but she risked one fleeting glance up—and their eyes met. A jolt of nerves shot through her. She quickly looked away, embarrassed to be caught staring.

A cluster of ladies, including Maria, stood off to one side, their whispering audible beneath the chapel's hush. Rose noticed them too and gently guided Katherine toward the exit. "Ignore them," she said. "They're just envious. You're the one he notices, not them."

Katherine's lips curved in a wry grimace. "There's nothing to envy, Rose."

She glimpsed the women's ornate dresses and the calculating gleam in their eyes. Countless ladies had arrived at Poenari seeking the Prince's attention, coaxed by ambitious fathers or by their own fascination with his power. If the rumors of his bedchamber proclivities were even half-true, they would endure nearly anything in the hopes of capturing his heart—or at least his ongoing favor.

Without waiting for further comment, Rose guided Katherine out of the chapel, each step echoing across the polished floors. Once in the corridor, a page darted up to them, bowing so low his forehead nearly touched the marble.

"My lady," he said to Katherine, voice quavering with importance, "His Grace requests the honor of your company tonight."

Rose squeezed Katherine's arm, and a ripple of apprehension coursed through her body. She forced herself to nod, though she could feel her heart pounding in her throat. "I see," she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

And with that, the page turned on his heel and hurried away, leaving Rose and Katherine standing in the half-lit hallway, their reality laid bare: the Prince had summoned her, and she had little choice but to comply.