Chapter 5
Secrets Beneath the Gilded Walls
I woke drenched in cold sweat.The lake still clung to me, even in dreams. The darkness pressed against my chest, water filling my lungs, silence swallowing every scream. I could feel it again, as if the memory had weight, pulling me back beneath the surface. My hands trembled against the sheets, my breath coming fast.
I was alive. But fear, it seemed, had not learned to die.
The door creaked softly. Ana's worried face appeared through the dim light."Your Highness... are you well?"
Her voice was gentle, hesitant, like one afraid to touch glass that might shatter.
"I am awake," I said after a pause. "That is enough."
Ana lingered, eyes full of concern. I straightened, pushing the nightmare down where it could not follow. "Today," I said, "we uncover the truth."
Her lips parted. "The truth, Princess?"
"Yes." My voice steadied. "Someone wanted me dead, Ana. And I intend to find out who."
She did not argue. Only nodded, her trust silent but complete.
I dressed plainly, in a muted gown of soft gray that could have belonged to any noble's daughter. It was simple enough to pass unnoticed in crowded corridors. My violet eyes, however, remained impossible to hide, the one mark of my mother's blood, the line that the court preferred to forget.
Ana braided my hair loosely. "At least allow me to bring your cloak," she said. "If you will be wandering where you should not, you might as well do it without freezing."
I smiled faintly. "Very well."
The Northern Wing was still asleep when we left. The corridors glowed faintly from oil lamps, and the sound of our footsteps echoed against the marble. Every step I took reminded me of how large the palace truly was, a kingdom of secrets hiding behind beauty.
Our first destination was the library.
It was silent, vast, and lined with shelves that stretched beyond the reach of ladders. Dust drifted lazily through the beams of sunlight that cut across the room. The air smelled of ink and forgotten truths.
I moved through the aisles quickly, skimming through ledgers and old visitor logs. Records of names, dates, and petitions. Most were dull, harmless, until one name appeared again and again.
Blestaire.
The Queen's family. The favored bloodline.Anaya Blestaire, her eldest daughter, whose beauty the court praised as if it were divine will.
Ambitious. Precise. Trained in diplomacy and grace.But ambition alone did not drown people in lakes.
I marked her name quietly in my notes and moved on.
The servant corridors told stories that the throne room never would.
Here, the air was warmer, alive with murmurs and hurried footsteps. The scent of bread, polish, and candle smoke lingered in the narrow halls. Servants carried trays and linens, avoiding my gaze out of habit — no one wanted to be noticed by a princess, especially not one whispered to be cursed.
I stopped near a group of attendants folding linens. "Did anyone pass through the courtyard near the lake that night?" I asked softly, careful to keep my tone light.
They exchanged nervous glances. Silence. Then one young maid bit her lip."I saw someone, Your Highness. A servant from Lady Anaya's quarters... near the lake gate. It was very late."
Her voice shook. She looked down, as if afraid of her own words.
"Did anyone else see?"
She shook her head. "No one speaks of it, Princess. It is safer not to."
I offered her a small nod. "You did well."
Her eyes widened at the praise, and I walked away before fear could make her retract it.
It was a thread, a fragile one, but real.
As Ana and I continued through the servants' hall, I began to notice small irregularities. Guards posted in strange rotations. Locked doors that should not have been locked. And along one wall, faint traces of polished stone... as if something heavy had been moved recently.
Someone within the palace knew its patterns too well. The attack at the lake had not been a crime of passion. It had been planned with precision — patrol timing, blind corners, silence. Whoever had done it was not only ruthless but well-informed.
"Princess," Ana whispered, glancing around nervously, "we should not linger. If the Queen's people see us here—"
"Then we are lost," I finished softly. "Yes, I know."
But I did not stop.
The eastern archives were quieter still. Dusty journals, ledgers of old palace physicians, notes of treatments and deaths from years past.
Most entries were routine — fevers, childbirths, and minor accidents. But one particular section made my pulse quicken.Treatment Logs — Northern Wing, Year 1041.
That was the year my mother died.
The entries were incomplete. Pages torn, ink smudged, but the few that remained mentioned "tonics blessed by the Church" and "divine infusions for weak constitutions."
I knew those words.I had heard them before.
Lunara root.The same poison they had once given me.
I pressed my lips together until the taste of iron touched my tongue. The Queen had been thorough, but not perfect.
As I left the archive, a faint sound caught my ear — the echo of footsteps, slow and deliberate. Ana froze beside me.
"Someone's coming," she whispered.
I stepped into the alcove of a narrow hall, pulling her with me. Through the carved lattice of a screen, I saw a small procession passing the adjacent corridor.
At its center was the King.
Roderic Rosaire.
Broad-shouldered, his expression carved from cold authority. His hair, streaked with silver, glinted beneath the torches. His eyes, once described as the color of stormy skies, held only weariness now.
Two advisers walked beside him, their voices low but clear enough to carry.
"Your Majesty," said one, "the Duke of Valleria has returned victorious from Valdoria. His success is already being sung across the provinces."
The King's tone was measured. "Victory brings pride. Pride brings ambition. We must remind him that his loyalty is to the Crown, not the people."
Another adviser spoke quickly. "His influence grows daily, sire. The borderfolk speak of him as though he were their champion."
The King's expression darkened. "Then we will remind them that heroes bleed like any man. Divide the nobles, strengthen the Church, and keep the people praying rather than thinking."
They turned a corner, voices lowering further.
"And what of the young Princess?" one adviser asked. "She stirs again, after years of silence. Word reached us that she appeared in the Physician Court."
The King gave a short laugh — cold, dismissive. "The frail one? Let her play. She poses no threat. Her mother was a healer, not a politician. She will fade, as her bloodline did."
The words landed like stones in my chest.
Fade. That was what they expected of me.To vanish quietly, like my mother.
Then came the part that made my pulse freeze.
"Concerning the Duke," said the first adviser carefully, "the plan remains. The girl's hand to him, before her coming of age. It ties the border to the Crown, and gives us control over his loyalty."
The King nodded once. "So be it. The engagement shall stand."
My stomach twisted. The words I once read in the book were now spoken before me.The arranged marriage.The political leash.The man destined to destroy the crown, bound to the daughter of the one it tried to erase.
They saw me as a pawn.They could not see that pawns, if moved right, could change the board.
When the hall emptied, I stepped back from the alcove. Ana stared at me, pale and shaken.
"You heard them," she whispered.
"Yes."
"They will use you. And if you resist—"
"Then I resist."
My voice was quiet, but the air around me trembled with resolve.
Three months until my eighteenth birthday.Three months until the Duke's arrival.Three months to prepare.
Back in my chamber, I wrote quickly by candlelight, every word careful, controlled.
Observation: Lady Anaya's servant near the lake the night of the attack.Suspicious movement among guards. Irregular rotations.Poison records found in old physician logs.The King aware of the Duke's growing power; intends to bind him by marriage.
I paused, tapping the pen lightly against the page. The ink shimmered beneath the light.
Ana stood nearby, silent. Her gaze carried both fear and admiration.
"You are fearless, Princess, not the same one I knew before... you're fearless," she said finally. "But do you understand what you are facing?"
"Yes." I set the pen down and met her eyes. "I understand exactly what I am facing."
"Then why continue?"
"Because I survived the lake, Ana. And I will not let that be for nothing."
As the night deepened, the palace fell into its deceptive calm.
Beyond my window, the moon rose high over the Lake of Reflection, silver rippling across its surface. Somewhere beneath that stillness, I could still feel the chill of its depths.
But now, the fear no longer owned me.
I looked toward the door of the Northern Wing, where my mother's sealed chamber waited in silence. "I am still here," I whispered. "And I am listening."
The candle's flame flickered as if in answer.
"I am not irrelevant. I am not powerless. And I do not die here."