The library had become Natalie's sanctuary over the past three months. Each morning, she would rise before dawn, carefully arrange small cloth pouches inside her bodice to give the slight suggestion of developing breasts, and join the other maids for breakfast in the servants' hall before hurrying to Master Holloway's domain. The old librarian had grown fond of her meticulous work organizing and dusting the ancient tomes, and had gradually entrusted her with increasingly important tasks.

  Today, she was carefully repairing a loose binding on a collection of imperial maps when the library doors burst open with unusual force. She looked up, startled, to see Prince Julian rushing toward her, his face unnaturally pale.

  "Natalie," he whispered urgently, gncing over his shoulder. "I need your help."

  She set down her work immediately. In their months of friendship, she had never seen the young prince so agitated. His hands trembled slightly, and there was a wild look in his eyes that armed her.

  "What's happened, Your Highness?" she asked, unconsciously slipping into the formal address they used when others might be within earshot.

  Julian pulled her behind a tall bookshelf, well away from Master Holloway's desk. "It's Garrett," he said, referring to his personal attendant. "I believe he tried to poison me this morning."

  Natalie's breath caught. "Poison? Are you certain?"

  Julian nodded grimly. "My tea tasted bitter—more bitter than usual. I only took a small sip before I noticed Garrett watching me too intently. When I set it down and asked for water instead, he seemed... disappointed." The prince swallowed hard. "After he left, I poured a few drops onto a silver spoon my mother gave me. It turned bck almost instantly."

  Natalie felt a chill run through her. The transformation of silver was a well-known test for certain poisons. Her father had once bound a book on herbcraft that included such information.

  "Have you told anyone else?" she asked, her mind racing.

  "Only you," Julian replied. "I don't know who I can trust. Augustus has been especially cruel tely, ever since Father mentioned I might be given my own household next year." He looked down. "I think... I think someone wants me dead."

  The gravity of the situation struck Natalie like a physical blow. She had known the pace was full of intrigue, but the reality of an attempt on Julian's life—this thoughtful boy who had become her only friend—made her blood run cold.

  "We must tell Madame Bckwood," she said firmly.

  Julian shook his head. "No, she reports directly to the Empress, who favors Augustus above all others."

  "Then your mother?"

  "She's been sent to the country estate for the season. Father was displeased with her st request for additional funds." Julian's voice was bitter. "He always punishes her by separating us."

  Natalie thought quickly. "What about the Emperor? Surely he would—"

  "Father barely remembers I exist unless I'm causing trouble," Julian interrupted. "And if I make accusations without proof, it will only make things worse."

  They fell silent as a pace guard walked past the end of their aisle, his boots clicking sharply on the marble floor. When he had passed, Julian leaned closer.

  "I have a pn," he whispered. "But I need your help."

  "Anything," Natalie replied without hesitation.

  "I'm going to request a new personal attendant. Someone I can trust." His eyes met hers meaningfully. "You."

  Natalie felt as though the floor had dropped away beneath her feet. "Me? But I'm just a library maid. I don't know the first thing about being a personal attendant."

  "You're intelligent and observant. You can learn." Julian gripped her arm. "Please, Natalie. I don't know who else to turn to."

  The desperation in his voice tugged at her heart, but arm bells rang in her mind. Being a personal attendant meant living in much closer proximity to the prince. It meant dressing him, attending to his personal needs—tasks that would make maintaining her disguise infinitely more difficult.

  "Your Highness, there are protocols... I don't think they would allow a simple library maid to—"

  "I am still a prince," Julian said, a rare fsh of royal authority crossing his young face. "If I insist, they will have to consider it. Especially if I cim it's the only way I'll feel safe."

  Before Natalie could formute another objection, Master Holloway's reedy voice called out, "Miss Foster! Where have you disappeared to? These manuscripts won't repair themselves!"

  "Think about it," Julian whispered urgently. "I'll return tomorrow for your answer."

  He slipped away through the stacks, leaving Natalie staring after him, her heart pounding with equal measures of fear and concern for her friend.

  That night, Natalie y awake in her narrow bed in the servants' dormitory, listening to the gentle breathing of her roommates. Sarah and Grace slept soundly, exhausted from their day's bor, while Rebecca murmured occasionally in her sleep. The twins, Lily and Rose, were curled together at the far end of the room, their identical faces peaceful in slumber.

  None of them knew her secret. None of them suspected that beneath the modest nightgown and carefully arranged hair y not Natalie Foster, but Nathaniel.

  Every day was a carefully orchestrated performance. She had learned to move with small steps, to keep her voice soft and her gaze demure, to excuse herself discreetly when the other girls changed clothing. So far, her disguise had held.

  But to become Prince Julian's personal attendant? The risk seemed impossible to justify.

  And yet, the alternative was to leave Julian vulnerable to another attempt on his life. The thought of harm coming to the gentle prince who had shown her such kindness made her stomach twist with dread.

  She recalled her mother's words on her deathbed: "Sometimes survival requires great courage, Nathaniel. And sometimes courage means doing what terrifies you most."

  By morning, she had made her decision.

  "I'll do it," Natalie told Julian when he slipped into the library the following afternoon. "But we must be very careful about how we proceed."

  Relief flooded the prince's face. "Thank you," he breathed. "I knew I could count on you."

  "This won't be simple," she cautioned. "There will be questions about my qualifications, my background."

  Julian nodded. "I've been thinking about that. I believe we should involve Madame Bckwood after all—but carefully. She controls all servant appointments, and we'll need her support."

  Natalie considered this. Madame Bckwood had been her mother's friend and had shown Natalie unexpected kindness. Still, entrusting the stern head of household with even a hint of their suspicions felt dangerous.

  "What will you tell her about Garrett?" she asked.

  "Nothing specific," Julian replied. "Only that I'm uncomfortable with him and wish for a change. I'll emphasize my preference for you because of our study sessions and your proven trustworthiness."

  It seemed their best option, though fraught with potential complications. They spent the remainder of the afternoon crafting their approach, speaking in hushed tones behind the protective walls of books.

  That evening, as Natalie was preparing to leave the library, Master Holloway called her to his desk.

  "Miss Foster," he said, peering at her over his spectacles, "I've received a rather unusual request concerning your position here."

  Her heart stuttered. "Sir?"

  "It seems Prince Julian has developed quite an appreciation for your... organizational skills." The old man's expression was unreadable. "He has requested that you be reassigned as his personal attendant."

  Natalie feigned surprise, her carefully practiced feminine mask sliding into pce. "I'm honored, but I'm quite content in the library, sir."

  Master Holloway removed his spectacles and polished them slowly with a handkerchief. "The request comes with the prince's strong personal endorsement. Apparently, you've made quite an impression during your study sessions."

  "I've only tried to be helpful, sir."

  "Indeed." He repced his spectacles and fixed her with a penetrating look. "Madame Bckwood wishes to speak with you immediately. She's waiting in her office."

  Natalie's mouth went dry. "Thank you for informing me, sir."

  As she walked through the pace corridors toward Madame Bckwood's domain, Natalie fought to maintain her composure. Everything now depended on this meeting—Julian's safety, her own secret, perhaps even her life.

  Madame Bckwood's office was a model of austere efficiency, much like the woman herself. When Natalie entered after a tentative knock, she found not only the head of household but also Martha, the head maid, both regarding her with evaluating eyes.

  "Miss Foster," Madame Bckwood said crisply. "Please sit."

  Natalie obeyed, folding her hands in her p as her mother had taught her, keeping her knees together and her spine straight but not rigid.

  "I understand Prince Julian has requested your services as his personal attendant," Madame Bckwood began without preamble. "This is highly irregur."

  "Yes, ma'am," Natalie replied softly. "I was surprised myself."

  "You have no training for such a position."

  "No, ma'am."

  "And yet," Madame Bckwood continued, studying a piece of parchment before her, "the prince insists that it must be you. He cims that your intelligence and discretion make you ideally suited to his needs."

  Martha made a disapproving sound. "With respect, Madame, the girl is barely thirteen. Personal attendants to the royal family are traditionally at least sixteen, with years of proper training."

  "I'm well aware of tradition, Martha," Madame Bckwood replied dryly. "I'm also aware that Prince Julian has dismissed three attendants in the past year. He is... particur."

  She turned her attention back to Natalie. "The prince tells me you've been assisting him with his studies."

  "Yes, ma'am. Master Holloway permitted me to retrieve books for His Highness, and sometimes we discuss their contents."

  "Discusses, does he?" Something that might have been amusement flickered in Madame Bckwood's stern eyes. "That would be unusual for Prince Julian. He rarely speaks at length to anyone."

  Natalie bit her lip. "He is most knowledgeable about history and geography, ma'am."

  Madame Bckwood leaned back in her chair, regarding Natalie thoughtfully. "Tell me, Miss Foster, do you wish to accept this position?"

  The question caught Natalie off guard. No one had asked what she wanted since she entered service at the pace. Her role had been assigned, her duties prescribed.

  "I wish to be useful, ma'am," she answered carefully. "If His Highness believes I can serve him well, I would be honored to try."

  "Even though you have no training?" Martha interjected. "A personal attendant must handle intimate tasks—dressing, grooming, attending to personal needs."

  Natalie felt a flutter of panic. "I learn quickly, ma'am."

  Madame Bckwood tapped her fingers on the desk, her expression inscrutable. After a long moment, she said, "Martha, please leave us."

  The head maid looked surprised but rose without comment and left the room. When the door closed behind her, Madame Bckwood's posture rexed almost imperceptibly.

  "Natalie," she said, using her first name for the first time since her arrival at the pace, "I knew your mother well, many years ago."

  "Yes, ma'am. She spoke of you with great respect."

  "Eleanor was one of the finest dies' maids I ever trained. Her attention to detail was remarkable." She paused. "You have her eyes."

  Natalie lowered her gaze. "Thank you, ma'am."

  "Prince Julian's current attendant, Garrett, came highly recommended by Prince Augustus." Madame Bckwood's voice had dropped to little more than a whisper. "I find this... concerning, especially given recent events."

  Natalie's head snapped up. "Recent events, ma'am?"

  "Let us say that the retionship between the princes has grown increasingly strained." Madame Bckwood's gaze was penetrating. "And Prince Julian has become unusually insistent about your appointment. Almost as if he fears something."

  The implication hung in the air between them. Natalie remained silent, uncertain how much to reveal.

  "Your mother asked me to watch over you," Madame Bckwood continued after a moment. "I intend to honor that promise, but you must understand that the role of personal attendant pces you in a precarious position. Pace intrigues can be deadly, especially for those who ck powerful protectors."

  "I understand the risks, ma'am."

  "Do you?" Madame Bckwood leaned forward. "I wonder. But I also wonder if Prince Julian might be safer with someone who has no connections to the older princes or their factions." She sighed. "Very well. I will approve the appointment, with conditions."

  Relief flooded through Natalie. "Thank you, ma'am. What conditions?"

  "You will receive accelerated training from Martha for one week before assuming your full duties. You will report to me weekly on the prince's well-being. And"—her voice hardened—"you will exercise the utmost discretion in all matters concerning the royal family."

  "Of course, ma'am."

  Madame Bckwood rose, signaling the end of their meeting. "One st thing, Miss Foster. Prince Julian's quarters include a small adjoining room for his personal attendant. You will move there immediately to begin familiarizing yourself with his routines."

  Natalie stood, her mind racing with the implications. A private room—a blessing for maintaining her disguise, but also a new kind of isotion.

  "Thank you for your trust, Madame Bckwood."

  The older woman's expression softened fractionally. "Your mother would be proud of your courage, child. Now go. Martha will be waiting to begin your instruction."

  As Natalie curtseyed and turned to leave, Madame Bckwood added, almost too quietly to hear, "And remember—in this pace, walls have ears. Always."