Chapter 27
Maya
Laughter echoes down the corridor, bright and uninhibited.
I pause mid-step, tilting my head to catch the sound again.
It’s been days since I’ve heard genuine laughter in this palace of whispers and political maneuvering.
The sound draws me forward like a beacon, pulling me away from my original destination—the library, where I’ve been spending most of my time since Logan and the others arrived.
I follow the sound down a hallway I haven’t fully explored, past ornate tapestries depicting hunting scenes and long-dead Corellian ancestors. The laughter comes again, higher-pitched this time—a child’s laugh, I realize with surprise. I didn’t know there were any children at the summer palace.
The door to what must be a nursery stands partially open, warm light spilling into the hallway. I approach cautiously, years of survival instincts making me wary even in this supposedly safe haven. Peering through the gap, I freeze at the sight before me.
Logan is sprawled on his stomach across a plush carpet, surrounded by wooden building blocks in various states of assembly.
His golden eyes are bright with amusement, his usual regal bearing completely abandoned as he helps a small girl—perhaps four or five years old—construct what appears to be a lopsided castle.
“No, no, Uncle Logan!” the girl giggles, her dark curls bouncing as she shakes her head emphatically. “The tower goes on this side!”
“Are you sure?” Logan asks, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it. “I thought princesses always kept their towers on the east side, for the morning sun.”
The girl considers this with comical seriousness, her tiny brow furrowing. “But then the dragon can’t see it,” she explains with the impeccable logic of childhood. “And if the dragon can’t see the tower, how will he know where to find the princess?”
Logan laughs, the sound startlingly genuine. “An excellent point, Lady Elise. The dragon’s perspective is crucial to any proper castle design.”
I stand frozen, unable to reconcile this playful, gentle man with the Logan I know. The commanding Alpha, the calculating prince, the man who forced a bond on me. This version of Logan feels like a stranger, someone I’ve never met before.
And yet, there’s something achingly familiar about him too, something that reminds me of the Logan I glimpsed briefly at the Enclave, before everything went wrong. The man who asked about my academic interests, who seemed genuinely interested in my mind rather than just my designation.
I realize with a start that I’ve been subconsciously searching for Logan ever since I woke this morning, only realizing it when I laid eyes on him.
Not actively, not consciously, but my wandering through the palace wasn’t as aimless as I’d pretended.
Some part of me has been seeking him out, drawn by the bond that connects us despite all my efforts to resist it.
Elise places another block atop her wobbly tower, her tongue poking out in concentration. “There!” she declares triumphantly. “Now it’s perfect!”
“Absolutely perfect,” Logan agrees solemnly, though I can see the amusement dancing in his eyes. “Worthy of the finest princess in all the land.”
Elise beams at him, clearly basking in his approval. Then her expression turns thoughtful, her head tilting in a gesture that reminds me startlingly of the Queen Mother. “Uncle Logan?”
“Yes, my lady?” He props himself up on one elbow, giving her his full attention.
“When I grow up, can I marry you?”
I nearly choke on a suppressed laugh at the question, at the way Logan’s eyes widen in momentary panic before he composes himself.
“I’m afraid that won’t work, Elise,” he says gently. “By the time you’re grown up, I’ll be an old, old man with a gray beard down to my knees.”
She giggles at the image, but persists with the determination of a child with a fixed idea. “But I want to marry an Alpha just like you. One who builds towers and knows about dragons.”
Something softens in Logan’s expression, a tenderness I’ve never seen before. “There are plenty of better Alphas out there than me, little one. You’ll find one who’s perfect for you, when the time comes.”
“Better than you?” Elise looks skeptical, her small face scrunched in disbelief. “Great-Grandmother says you’re the best Alpha in the whole kingdom. That’s why you’re going to be king someday.”
A shadow passes over Logan’s face, so quickly I almost miss it. “Great-Grandmother says many things,” he replies carefully. “But being king isn’t about being the best Alpha. It’s about making the right choices for everyone—Alphas, Betas, and Omegas alike.”
I lean closer, drawn by this unexpected glimpse into Logan’s thoughts on kingship. Is that really how he sees it? As responsibility rather than power? As service rather than dominance?
“Like Auntie Maya?” Elise asks innocently.
I freeze, shock coursing through me.
Logan looks equally startled by the question. “What do you know about Maya?” he asks, his voice carefully neutral.
Elise shrugs, already losing interest in the conversation as she reaches for more blocks.
“Great-Grandmother says she’s your Omega, but she’s different from the other Omegas at court.
She says Auntie Maya is going to help you be a good king because she’s not afraid to tell you when you’re being stupid. ”
A startled laugh escapes me before I can suppress it, the sound giving away my presence. Logan’s head snaps up, his golden eyes finding me instantly in the doorway. Something complicated passes across his features—surprise, embarrassment, and something warmer I can’t quite name.
“Maya,” he says, my name soft on his lips.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I say, suddenly feeling like an intruder on a private moment. “I heard laughter and...”
“And you came to investigate,” Logan finishes for me, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Your curiosity remains one of your most predictable traits.”
Before I can decide whether to be offended by this observation, Elise scrambles to her feet, her eyes wide with excitement.
“Are you Auntie Maya?” she demands, bouncing on her toes. “The one with the purple hair who’s not afraid of anything?”
I blink, taken aback by both her enthusiasm and her characterization of me. “I... yes, I’m Maya,” I confirm, stepping fully into the room. “Though I’m afraid of plenty of things.”
Elise looks disappointed by this admission. “But Great-Grandmother says you stabbed the bad doctor and escaped all by yourself. That sounds very brave to me.”
My breath catches, shock and horror washing through me. The Queen Mother has been discussing my trauma with a child? Has my suffering become palace gossip, a bedtime story to entertain the royal children?
Logan must see the distress on my face, because he rises smoothly to his feet, wincing slightly as his still-healing ribs protest the movement. “Elise, why don’t you continue building the castle while I speak with Maya for a moment?”
The little girl nods, already absorbed in her construction project again. Logan crosses to me, his expression apologetic as he guides me a few steps away from the child’s eager ears.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “My grandmother has always been direct with the children in the family. She believes in honesty rather than coddling.”
“Honesty is one thing,” I reply, keeping my voice low but unable to hide my anger. “Using my traumatic history as entertainment is another.”
Logan shakes his head. “It’s not like that.
Elise is Nikolai’s daughter—his legitimate daughter by his first wife, not Saffron,” he clarifies, seeing my confusion.
“The Queen Mother has been preparing her for the realities of court life since she was old enough to understand language. In her view, knowing the truth about the king and about what he’s capable of, is the best protection we can give her. ”
I absorb this information, trying to process it. “So she’s what…using me as an object lesson? ‘Be careful or you’ll end up like poor Maya, experimented on by the king’s pet monster’?”
“No,” Logan says firmly. “She’s using you as an example of strength. Of someone who survived the worst the king could do and emerged not broken, but determined to fight back.” His golden eyes hold mine, unexpectedly earnest. “You’re not a cautionary tale, Maya. You’re a hero to that little girl.”
The idea is so foreign, so at odds with how I see myself, that I can’t immediately respond. A hero? Me? When most days I still feel like I’m barely holding myself together, when nightmares of the doctor’s compound still wake me screaming?
“I don’t feel like a hero,” I say finally, the admission costing me more than I expected.
Logan’s expression softens. “Heroes rarely do. That’s what makes them heroes.”
Before I can decide how to respond to that, Elise interrupts again.
“Uncle Logan! I need help with the drawbridge!”
“Duty calls,” Logan says, a smile touching his lips. “Would you like to join us? Elise has been asking about you for days.”
The invitation surprises me. “I wouldn’t want to intrude on your time with her.”
“You wouldn’t be,” he assures me. “Besides, I think it would be good for her to meet the real Maya, not just the stories she’s heard.”
I hesitate, torn between the urge to retreat back to the safety of the library and curiosity about this child who apparently sees me as some kind of folk hero. “Alright,” I agree finally. “But only for a little while.”
Logan’s smile widens, genuine pleasure lighting his features in a way that transforms him from the cold, calculating prince I’m familiar with into someone almost... approachable. “Excellent. I warn you, though, Elise takes her castle-building very seriously. Prepare to be critiqued mercilessly.”
“I think I can handle the architectural opinions of a five-year-old,” I reply dryly.