The palace was alive with restless energy. Servants hurried through corridors, polishing silver, arranging flowers, and rehearsing greetings for Valoria’s ambassadors. Yet Andrew felt none of it. Every tick of the palace clocks reminded him of the shop on the cobblestone street, of Anabella’s laughter, of the way her hands moved with certainty over fragile gears.
That evening, cloaked in a plain mantle, Andrew slipped past the palace gates. The guards assumed he was bound for the city on errands, and he did not correct them. His steps carried him quickly, almost eagerly, to the clockmaker’s workshop.
The bell above the door chimed softly. Anabella looked up from her workbench, startled but smiling.
— Andrew… you’re here again.
He smiled, lowering his hood.
— I said I would return, didn’t I? To ensure the palace clocks are working properly.
She laughed lightly, shaking her head.
— You’ve already checked them twice. Are you certain this is about the clocks?
Andrew hesitated, then spoke with quiet honesty.
— No. It’s about you.
Her cheeks warmed, though her voice remained steady.
— You risk much by coming here so often. What if someone sees?
— Then let them see, Andrew replied firmly. I would rather spend one honest hour here than a hundred pretending elsewhere.
They sat together at her workbench; the air filled with the steady ticking of countless clocks. Anabella handed him a small silver pocket watch.
— This one is delicate. Try winding it carefully. Too much force, and the spring will break.
Andrew turned the crown slowly, his fingers clumsy but determined.
— Like trust, he murmured. Too much pressure, and it shatters.
She glanced at him, surprised by the depth in his tone.
— You speak as though you’ve carried a burden for years.
— I have, Andrew confessed. The burden of being told who I must be, whom I must love, what path I must walk. But here… with you… I feel free.
Her breath caught, and for a moment, silence filled the shop. The clocks seemed to listen, their rhythm steady, as if guarding their secret.
Outside, footsteps echoed faintly along the street. Anabella stiffened.
— Someone’s coming.
Andrew quickly pulled his hood back over his head. The door creaked open, and her father stepped inside, carrying a lantern. His brows furrowed at the sight of Andrew.
— Your Highness… he said slowly. I did not expect to find you here at this hour.
Andrew rose, bowing respectfully.
— Master clockmaker, forgive me. I wished to see your daughter’s work once more. The palace depends on your craft, and I wanted to learn directly from her.
The old man studied him carefully, suspicion flickering in his eyes.
— It is unusual for a prince to spend so much time in a humble workshop. But if you wish to learn, you are welcome. Still… be mindful. Time is not the only thing fragile here.
Andrew nodded, understanding the warning beneath the words.
— I will be careful. You have my word.
Later, when her father retired upstairs, Anabella turned to Andrew, her voice trembling.
— He suspects something. I could see it in his eyes.
— Then we must be cautious, Andrew replied. But I will not stop coming. Not unless you ask me to.
She looked at him, torn between fear and longing.
— And if your mother discovers? The queen will not forgive such defiance.
Andrew’s jaw tightened.
— Then let her suspect. Let her question. I will not let duty steal this from me.
Her hand brushed against the pocket watch he had wound, its ticking steady and strong.
— Then promise me, Andrew. Promise that whatever happens, you will not let this end in silence.
He met her gaze, his voice unwavering.
— I promise. Even if the whole kingdom stands against us, I will not let time erase what we have begun.
The night deepened. Lanterns outside flickered, shadows stretched long across the cobblestones. Andrew lingered at the door, reluctant to leave.
— Tomorrow, he whispered. I will return. Not for the clocks. For you.
Anabella’s lips curved into a faint, trembling smile.
— Then tomorrow, I will be waiting.
The door closed softly behind him, but the ticking inside seemed to quicken, as though the clocks themselves shared their secret.
Back in the palace, Queen Elyandra sat with her governess, turning another page in her album of portraits. Her eyes narrowed.
— Strange, she murmured. Andrew has been absent too often. Perhaps it is time I discover where his heart wanders.
The palace clocks faltered once more, as if warning that time itself was holding its breath.