Rachel smiled knowingly, her eyes gleaming. "Well, it’s obvious. The way you carry yourself, the politeness, and the way you seem to think things through before acting—it's all his influence. Your brother, he’s a very... respectable man."

I paused, my hand hovering over the cup. My thoughts went back to my brother, the way he always had that calm, almost detached demeanor, always thinking ahead. He was far older than me, but he treated me as though I was capable of making my own decisions. Still, it was strange hearing someone else acknowledge the way he shaped me.

"I suppose," I said slowly, my voice softer than before, as I studied the steam rising from my cup. "He taught me how to see the world in a way that makes sense to me. But I wouldn’t say I’m better than anyone. I just... try to do what’s right."

Rachel chuckled lightly, taking another sip of her tea. "No, I get it. But the way you handle things—it’s different, you know? Like, you're a natural at making decisions without making a scene. Unlike..." She paused, glancing toward the door, as if expecting someone to walk in. "Well, never mind. But anyway, it's a gift."

I tilted my head, intrigued. "Unlike who?"

She seemed to reconsider her words, her expression shifting slightly. "Ah, I shouldn’t gossip." Rachel set her cup down, crossing her arms in a casual but thoughtful manner. "Let’s just say there are some people who tend to act without thinking too much. Sometimes it works out... other times, not so much."

I raised an eyebrow, but before I could press her further, there was a faint noise at the door. The sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway. My heart skipped a beat. It was probably just the wind... but then again, I wasn’t so sure.

"Is something wrong?" Rachel asked, noticing my sudden stillness.

I gave her a tight smile. "No, just... a feeling."

The door creaked open, and Sawyer entered, holding a tray with more tea. His usual composed expression was slightly softer tonight. "Sorry to interrupt," he said, setting the tray down on the table between us. "I thought you might enjoy another round."

"Thank you, Sawyer," I replied, a bit relieved to focus on something other than the nagging sense of unease I couldn’t shake off.

Rachel leaned back, seemingly satisfied with the change of topic. "You know, I've been thinking," she began casually. "You’re probably the only person I’ve met who’s actually done something about what you believe in. Most people just talk, but you—" She smiled slightly, as if realizing something important. "You actually act."

I blinked at her, surprised by the statement. "I—"

Sawyer gave a small, polite cough, cutting the conversation short. His gaze, though calm, seemed to hold a deeper layer of thought. "Prince Lear should be back soon," he said quietly. "I hope you don’t mind staying a little longer."

I glanced at Rachel, who was already nodding, as if expecting me to stay. For some reason, tonight felt different. Maybe it was the quiet way Sawyer spoke, or the way Rachel was watching me now. But there was something off. Something about this whole palace was starting to feel less like a place I belonged and more like something I was merely visiting.

Still, I smiled and nodded, trying to push away the tension in my chest. "Of course," I said. "I don’t mind."

But as I sat back down, my eyes lingered on the door, waiting for Prince Lear to return, and something about that anticipation made me uneasy.

Rachel glanced between me and the door. "Everything okay?" she asked, her tone turning more serious now.

"Yeah," I lied, though I wasn’t sure if I was convincing myself or her. "Everything’s fine."