Chapter 31 Unfinished Conversation
MEIRA’S POV
I turned—and froze.
It was Mr. Sherlock
The air shifted the moment I saw him, as though the garden itself had drawn a careful breath. My heart lurched, and before I could think better of it, I straightened abruptly, nearly knocking the rake from my hands.
“I—I’m sorry, my prince,” I said quickly, bowing my head.
The words came out the way they always did. It was automatic and safe.
But Dane didn’t step back. He didn’t dismiss me or wave it away like the others would have. Instead, he moved closer.
One step.
Then another.
Close enough that I could sense his presence even without looking—his height, his warmth, the quiet authority that clung to him like a second skin.
“I hate how you apologize for every little thing,” he said.
I lifted my eyes despite myself.
That was my mistake.
Because his gaze was already on me—steady, sharp, unreadable. Those eyes had no right to be that intense, not when he was looking at someone like me. A maid. A nobody. Someone who should blend into stone walls and shadows.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured without thinking.
His jaw tightened.
He exhaled slowly, as if counting his patience. “You’re doing it again,” he said, disappointment threading his voice. “Look at you.”
Heat rushed to my face. I dropped my gaze immediately, fingers tightening around the edge of my apron.
“I—I can’t help it,” I whispered. “It’s how I was taught.”
There was a pause. Long enough that my thoughts began to spiral.
Had I spoken out of turn? Had I offended him? Princes weren’t meant to linger like this, weren’t meant to correct maids or sound… frustrated on their behalf.
“You were taught to shrink,” he said at last.
The words startled me.
I looked up again before I could stop myself. “My prince?”
He studied me, not unkindly, but with an intensity that made me feel like he saw far more than he should.
“Every time someone speaks to you, you bow your head,” he continued. “Every time someone breathes too close, you apologize. You move as though the world is something you must tiptoe around.”
My throat tightened. “I serve,” I said quietly. “That is my place.”
Dane’s lips pressed into a thin line.
“No,” he said. “That is your role. There is a difference.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. No one had ever spoken to me like this before—not accusing, not mocking, but as though my existence mattered enough to be… noticed.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” I said, softer now.
He laughed once under his breath—not amused, but tired.
“There it is again.”
I winced.
He stepped even closer, and instinctively I took half a step back, my shoulders brushing the wall behind me. Dane stopped immediately.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said quietly.
“I know,” I replied, though my heart was racing.
“Then why do you flinch?”
I hesitated. Honesty was dangerous. Silence was safer.
“I don’t know,” I said finally.
That was a lie. But it was the kind that kept you alive.
He tilted his head slightly, studying me like a puzzle he hadn’t meant to pick up but couldn’t put down either.
“Why are you cleaning instead of serving?” he asked.
My breath caught, I couldn't explain the whole thing to him, It was unecessary. “It was what I was assigned to.”
“Meira,” he said , like he was testing my name. “Do you always lower your eyes when someone says your name?”
I swallowed. “It’s respectful.”
“Or fearful.”
The word landed heavily between us.
“I don’t mean to be,” I said, my voice barely steady. “I just… don’t want to cause trouble.”
Dane’s expression softened—not much, but enough that I noticed.
“You exist,” he said. “Trouble or not.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I said nothing.
He sighed, rubbing a hand briefly over his face, as though frustrated with himself now.
“You shouldn’t be apologizing to me,” he said. “Not like that.”
“Then how should I?” I asked before I could stop myself.
His eyes flicked to mine again.
“Stand,” he said simply.
I blinked. “My prince?”
“Stand,” he repeated. “Not at attention. Just… stand.”
Slowly, uncertainly, I straightened my spine. Lifted my chin. Met his gaze.
It felt wrong. Exposed. Like stepping into sunlight after years in the dark.
“There,” he said quietly. “That’s better.”
My pulse thundered in my ears. “Am I in trouble?”
“No,” he said. Then, after a pause, “But you will be if you keep shrinking every time someone looks at you.”
A faint, nervous smile tugged at my lips. “Old habits.”
He returned it—not a smile, not quite—but something gentler.
“They made you invincible, Meira,” he said.
The words lingered, unsettling and warm all at once.
I lowered my gaze again, though this time it wasn’t fear that drove it—it was confusion.
“I should return to my duties,” I said softly.
Dane nodded once, stepping back at last. “You should.”
Relief washed through me, tinged with something I couldn’t name.
As I moved to pass him, his voice stopped me.
“And Meira?”
I turned.
His expression had returned to something guarded, princely, controlled.
“This conversation isn’t over,” he said.
"Remember we had an unfinished discussion.”