The small, aged parchment tucked beneath the King's official proclamation felt like a thermal detonator in my lap.
I didn't dare react. My blood was roaring in my ears, but I forced my breathing to remain steady, keeping my eyes fixed on the Fae script of the decree. I could feel Lady Meridian and the other scribes moving around the hall, their movements quiet and focused. I knew Vesper was waiting outside. Any sudden move, any flicker of Sun-Fire that betrayed my internal shock, and the small warning would be incinerated.
I shifted slightly, using the large scroll to shield the smaller one, and subtly memorized the face of the quiet scribe who had given it to me, with his watery green eyes and perpetually ink-stained fingers.
For the next two hours, I sat there, pretending to edit archaic Fae legalese while my mind raced. Why would Lorcan lie? He needed my power intact to break the curse. If the Sunstone was a permanent suppressor, as he threatened, that meant only a diminished King Lorcan would survive, ruling over a slowly dying kingdom. This was a fate he claimed he was desperate to avoid.
Or maybe, the cynical part of my mind whispered, his curse is so painful, he would rather survive half-powerless than die whole.
The thought chilled me. Survival, at any cost, was Lorcan's ruling philosophy.
I finally reached the end of the proclamation draft. "This looks acceptable," I stated, keeping my voice utterly devoid of emotion, sliding the small warning scroll into the deep fold of the official document. "The language is appropriately grandiose."
Lady Meridian, clearly relieved, gathered the paperwork. "Excellent, Your Highness. We will begin the transcription for the Royal Seal."
As I stood, preparing to leave, I subtly angled myself toward the scribe. He was still meticulously polishing a silver inkwell, avoiding eye contact.
"Hello," I said, loud enough for him to hear, but quiet enough that Lady Meridian, who was across the hall, didn't stop her work.
He looked up, his green eyes cautious.
"May I know your name?" I asked. He answered so quietly, I almost didn't catch his words. "I'm Rian, Your Highness."
"I have some follow-up questions regarding the historical context of the Solar Fae," I continued, improvising wildly. "Specifically, I am confused by the reference to 'The Binding of Lyra' in the third section of the decree. Could you perhaps provide me with a list of historical scrolls relating to that specific term?"
The term 'Binding of Lyra' was completely made up. I was testing him. If he was Lorcan's agent, he would give me a blank look or report my strange request.
Rian's expression did not change, but his right thumb gave a barely perceptible twitch against the inkwell. He didn't speak. He simply glanced, very quickly, toward the huge, floor-to-ceiling bookshelf located deep within the archive room, at a shelf that was covered in a sheer, dusty black cloth, clearly labeled: RESTRICTED: ROYAL PROPHECY.
The message was clear: The answers you seek are there, but I cannot give them to you directly.
"Thank you, Scribe," I said, giving him a brief, significant nod. "I will wait for that list."
As I exited the Hall on Vesper's arm, I felt a fresh rush of adrenaline. I had confirmation: Rian was a genuine, quiet ally, and the secret was hidden in the Restricted Archive.
Back in my chambers, I immediately pulled out the small, brittle warning. It was written on paper older than I was, the Fae script elegant and precise.
"The King lies about the Sunstone's true purpose."
The Sunstone was a focusing lens, according to Vesper. Lorcan's threat was that it would permanently suppress my power, making me a dependent Queen. If that was the lie, what was the truth?
I paced my luxurious prison. I couldn't ask Vesper; she was Lorcan's loyal soldier. I couldn't confront Lorcan without proof; he would simply destroy the evidence, silence Rian, and accelerate the wedding.
I needed to get into that Restricted Archive.
The solution came to me, inspired by Lorcan's own tactics. I had to use the excuse of my necessity.
I called for a nearby serving Fae. When she appeared, I kept my voice measured and royal.
"I was instructed by the King to review the historical context for the wedding proclamation," I stated. "The sheer volume of work requires additional assistance. I require a temporary Archival Assistant. Someone quiet, discreet, and with an intimate knowledge of the old scrolls."
I looked pointedly at Vesper, who had been standing silently by the door. "Vesper, you are required for my training, not for historical research. Please inform the Chief Archivist that I require Scribe Rian to be assigned to me, starting tonight, to assist with research and documentation. The King wants this matter expedited."
Vesper's silver eyes narrowed, scrutinizing my face. "Scribe Rian is a low-ranking generalist. You should request Lady Meridian."
"Lady Meridian's handwriting is deplorable, and her knowledge of the Solar Fae is obviously limited," I countered, using Lorcan's sharp tone. "I need a pair of quiet, reliable hands for simple cataloging. Rian. Make it happen."
Vesper paused for a long moment, clearly debating whether to challenge me, but I had used Lorcan's command structure against her. He had ordered me to act like a Queen; I was simply carrying out the order.
"As you command, Your Highness," she finally conceded, giving me a curt bow. "But I will personally escort Scribe Rian to and from your chamber every evening."
That was a complication, but a manageable one. Vesper's presence meant I couldn't discuss the warning, but Rian could bring me the information under the guise of "research materials." The game was afoot.
As the evening wore on, the quiet anticipation grew to a fever pitch. I sat in my large salon, pretending to read a book on Fae geography, waiting for the arrival of the only person who might hold the key to my survival, or expose the terrifying depth of King Lorcan's deception.