Jana and her new squad moved like shadows in the night, stationed near a harbor that never slept a few hours away from the valtorian royal palace. The clamor of dockworkers, the creak of rigging, and the sharp tang of salt filled the air, carrying her back to another time: the long voyages aboard the Sea Serpent, the laughter of her old crew, the safety of belonging to something greater. That echo of camaraderie clashed against the stabbing pain that still came whenever she thought of what she had lost. And among those memories lingered one image that tormented her most: Rodrick, standing tall upon the deck of a Valtorian warship, his son at his side. That vision set fire to her chest, a blend of rage and grief.

  She shook her head, forcing the thoughts away. The past could not distract her now. She needed focus. Weeks had been spent chasing the Timekeepers, a group that slipped through her grasp like water between her fingers. They changed their hideouts swiftly, moving from village to village, leaving behind traces that she and her squad always arrived too late to follow. What Jana did not know was that her relentless pursuit was precisely what had forced the Timekeepers into constant flight.

  Hidden behind stacks of cargo crates at the pier, Jana watched carefully. The ship said to be carrying the fugitives to safety still sat moored, empty, lifeless. No sign of her quarry.

  A sigh escaped her lips, frustration etched into her face.

  —This isn’t working —she muttered under her breath, eyes locked on the black water—. We’ve been chasing shadows for far too long.

  Beside her, her lieutenant, a burly, seasoned man named Garrick, gave a slow nod. His arms crossed over his chest were like a wall of stone. Jana had never mentioned orbs, nor the Timekeepers themselves. To her men, the fugitives were painted as traitors to their own blood—murderers who had struck her family and fled with shameful secrets that could never come to light. Whether the story was true or not hardly mattered. What mattered was that it was believable, and it justified the hunt. That was enough for mercenaries. They were paid well, fed with gold, and as long as coins clinked in their pouches, they would chase ghosts if asked to.

  —Aye, we have driven them from their lairs —Garrick rumbled, his voice heavy with sleepless nights— yet ever they find some cunning way to slip the net. Tell me then… what design do you now weave?

  Jana let the noise of the harbor and the slap of the tide against the pier fill the silence before answering. At last, her voice cut through the night, steady and sharp.

  —If the hunter cannot reach the prey, then he must make the prey come to him. We must force them into the open.

  Garrick frowned, intrigued.

  —And how, my lady, propose you such a ruse?

  —We need bait —Jana said after a brief pause—. Someone they trust enough to leave their hole behind.

  Garrick raised a brow.

  —And whom do you name for such a burden?

  Jana drew a deep breath, weighing the choice she had avoided. Elowen and Corin had found a good life where they were; she did not want to risk them. But the time had come to call them back into the cause. They would be the bond, the lure to bring the Timekeepers straight to her.

  Back at the castle, Jana returned from her watch and slipped quietly into her chamber. Exhaustion pressed on her, and she knew she had barely an hour to rest before duty called again. She had almost forgotten the grand event of the day: a reception to welcome the possible brides of the prince.

  The thought of facing a hall full of disdainful noblewomen made her groan inwardly. She collapsed onto her narrow bed, eyes closed for only a few breaths before the morning bells rang out, signaling the day’s beginning.

  Hurriedly, she dressed in her maid’s uniform, her mind still spinning with the failure of the night before. As she made her way to the great hall, she braced for the indifference and condescension of the nobles she was bound to serve.

  The great hall swarmed with activity, heavy with perfumes and the whisper of silks and brocade. Ladies paraded before the prince, vying for his gaze. Jana moved among them, serving cups and trays, weary yet grateful for a task that let her mind loosen its grip for a moment.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Then her eyes fell on the prince himself. Tall, regal, with piercing blue eyes and golden hair gleaming in the light. At his side stood his loyal knight, dark-haired and steady-eyed. Despite his solemn demeanor, the prince’s presence distracted her briefly—before she forced herself to remember her place.

  Her attention was drawn instead to a lady in a dark blue gown embroidered with delicate care. Concealed beneath the table, she poured something into her cup before approaching the prince. At first, Jana thought it no more than a trick, perhaps a love potion to capture his attention. She wanted to step back, but her sense of justice refused. What if it was poison? He could not die—not yet. One part of her urged her to leave it, to let time’s thread correct itself. But the other side, the rigid one, won out.

  She lunged forward, spilling the cup across her own dress. The noblewoman, furious, struck her across the face.

  —How dare you, clumsy wench! —she spat.

  Jana stammered apologies, bowing and retreating. Without realizing it, she had freed herself from duties for the day. The head maid, Maria, pulled her aside to avoid further disgrace. Jana wisely used the time to rest and ready herself for the night ahead.

  As she neared her quarters, footsteps rushed behind her.

  —Maid Agnes —a voice called. She turned to see the prince’s knight.

  —Thank you for what you did earlier —he said gravely—. I had seen her act as well and was prepared to intervene.

  —It was nothing —Jana replied, steady gaze meeting his—. Only what was right.

  —I will see that the prince hears of your deed.

  —I did not do it for recognition —she murmured.

  The knight’s stern face softened into a brief smile.

  —Your humility is rare. This palace would be better with more like you.

  Jana dipped her head lightly. The knight bowed.

  —Rest well, Maid Agnes. I hope our paths cross again.

  Back in her chamber, a bird tapped at the window. A messenger dove. She took it, sat, and opened the note. It held the name she needed: the identity of the nobleman who had been asking after Princess Moriana’s hiding places. The moment she read it, the truth struck. If that man found the princess and took her hand, the crown prince’s place would be threatened. That union could even raise Drakoria from its ashes.

  Political intrigue usually meant little to her, but this was different—because she was the centerpiece. Sleep fled her, even in exhaustion. What if someone uncovered a portrait, or worse, recognized her as the princess?

  When she finally stirred again, night had fallen. She was late for her meeting with Elowen and Corin. Dressing quickly, she ran to the tavern where they were to meet.

  Breathless, she tapped the coded knock at the back door. Moments later, the hidden entrance creaked open. Inside, Elowen and Corin laughed with the staff. At her arrival, they embraced her warmly.

  —You kept us waiting —Corin said, relief in his tone.

  —I would not come until I had all settled —Jana replied, serious.

  Elowen’s eyes shone with irritation.

  —You always do this, Jana. Always wait until you are cornered before you ask for help.

  Jana sighed, shoulders sagging.

  —I know, Elowen, and I’m sorry. But you must understand—I try to keep everyone safe. The more who know our plans, the greater the risk.

  Elowen’s anger eased.

  —I hate feeling like pieces in a game we can’t fully see.

  —You are not —Jana answered firmly.

  Corin set a hand on Elowen’s shoulder.

  —She’s right. None of this is simple.

  Elowen breathed deeply, letting her anger fade.

  —Very well, Jana. What is your plan?

  Jana straightened.

  —My search for the Timekeepers has failed. It is time to draw them to us. We need something they will recognize without question, but that seems harmless to common eyes. —She turned to Elowen—. No one is better suited than you.

  They gathered close, trading ideas and shaping strategy as the night wore on. But fatigue crept in, and their words slowed—until a sudden call broke through. Someone asked for Jana. She stepped out into the tavern’s main hall. A young runner, one of the many she used to avoid suspicion, awaited.

  —Mistress, someone from the jeweler’s seeks you —he said. Jana pressed coins into his palm and told the innkeeper:

  —Tell them inside I’ll be delayed.

  —As you wish, mistress —the man nodded.

  On the way to the jeweler’s, Jana wondered who it could be. A week had passed, though she saw no reason she needed to go herself. The information was prepared, the shop’s seer had done his part. Was there an error? Was the client displeased? She dreaded meeting that nobleman again, fearful of any whisper about the princess that might expose her.

  Upon arrival, the clerk hurried to her.

  —Mistress, a man waits upstairs. He insists on seeing the same woman who served him before.

  —Does he know who I am? —Jana asked.

  —No, only demands the same one. Refuses to pay otherwise.

  Jana quickly pulled a veil from the rack of cloaks and mantles for favored customers. She ascended, relieving the seer on duty.

  —What is it you seek, Duke Edmund? —she asked.