For the first time since this entire disaster began, I had something dangerously close to a team.
That realization hit me later that afternoon, as I sat on the edge of the council table, skirt bunched around my thighs, watching Adam and Axel argue over a map.
"Your patrol routes are predictable," Adam said, tapping the west wall with the end of a dagger he absolutely was not supposed to have out in the council room. "If I were a rebel, I'd sneak in here, here, or here. Especially here."
He stabbed at a shaded alley drawn near the outer market.
Axel folded his arms. "If you were a rebel, you'd have died a long time ago," he shot back. "You're too loud."
My father sighed. Darius rubbed his temples. Lucia watched like she was silently rating both of them.
"Loud rebels get things done," Adam said. "Quiet ones end up politely asking for their lives back from people who never wanted them to have power in the first place."
"Enough," my mother cut in, calm but sharp. "If we wanted a brawl, we'd send you both back to the training yard. We're talking strategy, not bruised egos."
Adam smirked. "To be fair, bruised egos are my specialty."
Axel glanced at me, fighting a smile.
I shouldn't have been enjoying this.
But I was.
Seeing Darkstorm's oh‑so‑serious councilmen confronted with my chaos-cousin was deeply satisfying.
"Rome," Lucia said suddenly. "You're quiet. That rarely happens. What are you thinking?"
I dragged my gaze from the map and swung my legs idly against the table leg.
"That the rebels aren't stupid," I said. "They don't throw paint and crude explosives at our walls just to be decorative. The broken crown is a symbol. They want us to think they can strike anywhere, any time. So we can tighten every guard post and still miss the real game."
Axel nodded slowly. "You think the gate incident was a distraction."
"I think it was a test," I replied. "To see how we respond. Where we panic. Who we send."
Darius leaned forward. "What would you do, then, Princess?"
I stared at the map, at the careful ink lines that tried to contain an entire city on parchment.
"What if we stop reacting," I said, "and start listening?"
Adam snorted. "To rebels?"
"To people," I corrected. "The ones in the markets. The ones near the old wells. The ones who don't get invited to balls but hear everything anyway."
One of Darkstorm's advisors frowned. "You'd trust gossip over steel?"
"I'd trust both," I said. "You've increased patrols, added archers and mages. Fine. Good. But walls don't start rebellions. Rooms like this do. Decisions made without listening." I gestured lazily around. "We need ears in the streets if we want to know where the broken crown started."
Lucia's gaze sharpened. "You want spies."
"We already have spies," Axel said flatly. "Half your advisors are yours first and Iris' second."
She didn't deny it.
"I'm not talking about paid eyes dressed in silk," I said. "I'm talking about the baker's boy who hears which families are complaining about food shipments. The stable girl who knows which soldiers slip away at night. The old man at the fountain who remembers the last time someone painted a symbol on our walls."
Adam raised a hand. "I hate to side with your terrifying mother-in-law," he said, "but that sounds like building an unofficial informant network."
"Call it whatever makes you feel important," I said. "I call it listening."
Axel's lips twitched.
"Who would run these…listeners?" Darius asked carefully.
I hesitated.
Every eye slid to me.
And then to Axel.
And, for some reason, to Adam.
"Not Lucia's spies," I said. "They already have one loyalty. Not our traditional guard. They're too visible." I turned toward the door. "We need someone who knows how to move without being seen."
As if the gods were feeling dramatic, the doors creaked open at that exact moment.
"Were you calling me," Olivia asked, "or is the dramatic timing just a bonus?"
She slipped in, curls pinned back loosely, ink stains on her fingers, a stack of papers clutched to her chest. Her dark eyes flicked around the room, landing on me, then on Axel, then on Adam with quick assessment.
"There you are," I said. "Perfect."
She flushed. "I brought the reports you asked for. From the servants' wing and the lower markets." She lifted the papers uncertainly. "Should I…come back?"
"No," I said. "Come here."
She moved to my side, hands careful as she laid the papers down.
"What are those?" Lucia asked.
"Nothing treasonous," Olivia said smoothly. "Just notes. From people who actually live in the city instead of above it."
Lucia's lips thinned, but she didn't object.
I skimmed the top sheet.
Short, clipped lines. Names. Places. Small complaints that, taken alone, meant little.
Put together, they painted a picture.
Food shipments going missing near the old western road.
A noble family from Darkstorm who'd been seen slipping coin to strangers with no visible trade.
Whispers about taxes. About unfair conscriptions. About "the new queen and her storm prince," muttered with equal parts curiosity and contempt.
I passed a few sheets to Axel.
He read them quickly, jaw tightening.
"Liora helped me collect some of them," Olivia added quietly. "Before…everything." She flicked a cautious glance at me, then away.
Ah.
His almost‑girlfriend‑not‑girlfriend spy.
Jealousy tried to flicker. I shoved it down.
I didn't have time to be petty about who else had given Axel useful information.
"This is what I meant," I said. "If we ignore this"—I tapped the papers—"we wait until the next broken crown shows up painted in blood instead of red dye."
The room went very still.
Lucia watched me over steepled fingers.
"Very well," she said slowly. "You may continue this…listening."
A beat.
"Under supervision," she added.
"Mine," Axel said instantly.
"Mine," my father countered.
I threw up my hands. "I'm literally right here."
Adam snorted into his sleeve.
"Involving Princess Rome is non‑negotiable," my mother said firmly. "This was her suggestion. Her kingdom. Her risk."
Lucia's gaze slid back to me.
"Fine," she said. "But understand this, Rome of Iris: if you build something underneath my nose, it had better be to hold up these kingdoms—not to pull them down."
"When I want to pull something down," I said sweetly, "you'll know."
Her mouth twitched. "I'm sure."
By the time council dispersed, my head felt like someone had stuffed it with wool and then shaken it.
Adam peeled off with Darius' generals. My parents were pulled into a separate discussion about trade routes. Lucia vanished with two of her favorite knives disguised as men.
That left me and Axel in the now‑empty council chamber.
And Olivia hovering near the doorway like a nervous sparrow.
"Come in," I said, waving her closer. "You look like you want to say something and are trying very hard not to."
She winced. "Am I that obvious?"
"Yes," Axel and I said at the same time.
We glanced at each other.
"Stop doing that," Olivia muttered. "It's unnerving."
I patted the table beside me until she hopped up to sit.
"You okay?" I asked.
She twisted her silver heart necklace between her fingers. "I just… I wanted to apologize again. For not telling you sooner about Liora and the—" she waved vaguely "—spy stuff. I should have."
Guilt flickered in her eyes.
It wasn't the first apology she'd offered.
It was the first time it didn't make me flinch.
"It's done," I said. "Besides, if you hadn't been in that hallway, I might be dead." I nudged her shoulder. "I owe you at least three pies for that, minimum."
She smiled weakly. "We'll start with one."
Axel cleared his throat.
"I should tell you," he said, looking between us, "Liora's name has come up in more than one report."
Cold slipped down my spine.
Olivia's fingers stilled on her necklace.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
He hesitated. "Some of the stolen supplies, the missing coin routes… Her contacts touched them. We don't know yet if she's feeding us both sides—or if she's chosen one."
"Chosen who?" I asked.
"The broken crown," he said.
Silence snapped tight.
Olivia shook her head immediately. "No. Liora is reckless and ambitious and stupid about power, but she would never risk my mother's throne."
"Wouldn't she?" Axel asked quietly. "If she thought it would put her own hand closer to it?"
Pain flickered across Olivia's face.
"I'm not saying she's guilty," he added. "Only that her name keeps appearing where it shouldn't. We have to consider every angle."
"We could talk to her," Olivia said. "Directly. Before your mother does. Lucia will make her disappear before we know the truth."
She wasn't wrong.
Lucia liked clean solutions. Quiet ones.
I exchanged a look with Axel.
"We can't just summon her in front of the council," I said. "If she is innocent, we paint a target on her back. If she's guilty, we spook her into running."
Axel rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Agreed."
"Then we do what we're best at," I said.
"And that is…?" Olivia asked.
I hopped down from the table.
"Breaking rules," I said. "And sneaking around our own palace."
Axel's mouth curved, reluctant but real.
"You have a plan," he said.
I shrugged. "Fragments of one."
"Dangerous," he murmured.
"You married me," I reminded him. "Dangerous is part of the bargain."
By nightfall, the palace was quieter than it had been the night of the ball.
The celebrations had finally dwindled. Only a few stubborn nobles still lingered in side salons, clinging to wine and gossip. Most of the guests had retired; the servants were cleaning away the last traces of spilled sugar and trampled petals.
It was the perfect time for trouble.
"So let me get this straight," Adam said, crossing his arms as we huddled in a shadowed alcove near the north staircase. "You want to sneak into a restricted wing to find a spy, question her about a possible rebellion, all without alerting the queen who already thinks you're a problem and the rebels who already want you dead."
"Yes," I said.
He stared at me.
"I'm so proud," he whispered.
I swatted his arm.
Olivia peered around the corner, checking the hallway for passing guards.
"She usually meets her contacts in the old observatory," she whispered. "Third tower. Hardly anyone goes there now. The staircase is half collapsed."
"Wonderful," I said. "Nothing says 'subtle conversation' like a broken death‑trap of a tower."
Axel adjusted his cloak. "Lucia thinks Liora is on assignment in the city," he murmured. "If she's here, she's not supposed to be. That alone tells us something."
"What if she doesn't come tonight?" Adam asked.
"Then we try again," I replied. "But according to Olivia's notes"—I nudged her—"she hasn't missed a weekly check‑in in months. Rebels or no rebels, Liora likes her routines."
"Lucky us," Adam muttered.
We moved.
The third tower staircase really was a disaster.
Half the stones were cracked or missing; the handrail was more suggestion than structure. Dust clung to the air in soft motes. Old, abandoned portraits leaned crooked against the walls, their subjects' eyes following us accusingly.
"What even is this place?" Adam whispered. "Did someone forget to renovate this wing for the last hundred years?"
"Probably," Axel said. "It's been closed off since before I was born. My tutors always said this tower was 'unstable.'"
"Reassuring," I muttered.
At the top of the broken staircase, a narrow landing opened into a circular room.
The observatory.
Once, it must have been beautiful.
The domed ceiling was cracked but still half‑painted with faded constellations. An enormous, rusted telescope sagged in one corner. Dusty cushions and old benches lay scattered where astronomers might once have sat and charted the skies.
Now, it smelled faintly of smoke and something sharp.
"Someone's been here recently," Adam murmured, crouching by a still‑burnt-out candle.
Olivia moved to the far wall and pressed her hand against a segment of stone.
"What are you doing?" I whispered.
She didn't answer, just leaned her weight into it.
A hidden panel gave way with a soft grind, revealing a small, wedge‑shaped compartment carved into the wall.
Inside: scrolls. Sealed envelopes. A dark cloak.
"Oh, look," Adam said dryly. "A spy's toy chest."
Olivia bit her lip. "She showed me once," she admitted. "When we were still…on the same side. She said if anything happened to her, someone needed to know where she kept her failsafes."
"And you didn't think to mention this to me?" Axel asked, exasperation bleeding into his voice.
"Would you have told your rebel‑hunting mother her favorite spy kept secrets from her?" Olivia snapped back.
He sighed. "Fair."
I reached in and pulled out the top envelope.
No seal. No name.
Just a symbol on the corner.
Half a crown.
Storm‑dark.
My stomach flipped.
"Open it," Adam said quietly.
My fingers trembled slightly as I broke the flap.
Inside was a single sheet.
Short. Efficient. Liora's hand.
To be delivered only if the princes do not listen.
The unified crown is weak at its join. Strike at the seam. Stir Darkstorm against Iris and Iris against Darkstorm. Turn the spark into a blaze.
Below, three locations were listed.
One in Darkstorm's capital.
One near Iris' old border.
And one…
Right here.
The market quarter outside the west gates.
My head swam.
"She's planning coordinated attacks," Axel said, voice tight. "Not just here. Everywhere the 'Unified Realms' shows its face."
"And she thinks you're the weakness," Adam added. "Both of you."
Olivia swallowed hard. "This doesn't make sense. Liora is loyal to power. To my mother. She hates rebels. She—"
"Maybe she stopped seeing them as different," I said softly. "If she thinks the broken crown is the only way to force change…"
I didn't say the rest.
That I understood, in some broken, furious part of me, the temptation of breaking something too big to bend.
Axel's jaw clenched.
"She's using our wedding," he said. "Our alliance. Turning our faces into targets."
"I will personally remove her teeth," Adam growled.
"We're not there yet," I snapped. "We still don't know what side she's truly on. This could be a contingency. A warning. A bluff."
Olivia's eyes were wide and wet. "She signed it. With the symbol. That can't be an accident."
"She didn't sign it," I said, pointing. "That's not her sigil. It's theirs."
The broken crown.
"Either way," Axel said, "we can't take chances. The west market is where your people gather. Where the poorest of both our kingdoms will come to sell and trade."
"Exactly where she'd strike," Adam muttered. "If she wanted to turn the people against you."
My heart hammered.
"We have to tell our parents," I said.
"And Lucia," Axel added grimly.
"And then what?" Olivia whispered. "Throw Liora to the wolves? Let my mother tear her apart before we know anything?"
"We don't have the luxury of protecting maybes," Axel said, voice gentler than his words.
"We don't have the luxury of trusting blindly either," I shot back. "If Liora is playing both sides, exposing her now might push her straight into the rebels' arms."
Adam scrubbed a hand over his face.
"Here's the problem," he said. "If we tell the crowns everything, they lock down the city and start arresting anyone who's ever sneezed near a rebel. If we say nothing, and something happens in that market…"
He didn't finish.
He didn't need to.
"I'm not suggesting silence," I said. "I'm suggesting precision."
Axel frowned. "Go on."
"We increase patrols around the west market," I said. "Quietly. We redirect foot traffic without announcing why. We station more healers nearby. And we send someone we trust to find Liora before she finds them."
"And who exactly do we trust for that?" Adam asked.
I looked at him.
He blinked. "Oh no. Absolutely not. I just got here."
"Exactly," I said. "You're not tangled in their old loyalties yet. You don't owe Liora anything. She doesn't know your face. You're Iris, not Darkstorm. If she sees Axel, she bolts. If she sees me, she runs to my mother and spins it. If she sees you…" I shrugged. "She underestimates you."
His eyes narrowed. "You're manipulating me."
"Yes," I said. "Is it working?"
He sighed theatrically. "Unfortunately."
Axel smirked. "Welcome to the club."
"We give you three days," I said. "No more. You move through the markets, listen to the people, find Liora if you can. Not to kill her." I shot him a sharp look. "To talk."
He made a face. "Fine. I'll try the talking thing first."
Olivia looked between us, wringing her hands.
"And me?" she asked. "What do I do? Hide? Sit in the library while my friend—whatever she is now—possibly blows up my mother's kingdom?"
"No," I said.
She blinked.
"You," I continued, "are going to help me build the listening we talked about."
Her brows knit. "The…ears?"
"Exactly," I said. "You know Darkstorm's underbelly better than anyone here who isn't terrifying and forty. You know which servants talk. Which merchants overcharge. Who slips whose guards extra coin. You help me map it. Quietly. Then we feed what we learn to Axel and my parents while pretending it came from official channels."
Axel tilted his head. "So we build an unofficial network under the official one, and hope my mother doesn't notice."
"She will notice," I said. "But if we're lucky, she'll find it useful before she finds it threatening."
"And when she does find it threatening?" Adam asked.
I smiled, all teeth.
"Then we're no longer just pieces," I said. "We're players."
The room held its breath.
It was reckless.
Probably stupid.
But as I looked at the three of them—at Olivia's fierce worry, at Adam's stubborn loyalty, at Axel's steady, bruised kind of hope—I knew one thing with absolute clarity.
I was done being only what this kingdom had written for me.
"Three days," Axel said softly, echoing words from before the wedding. "Seems to be our favorite number."
"Three days," I agreed. "Then the broken crown will make its next move."
"And so," Adam added, sheathing his dagger with a satisfying click, "will we."
Olivia slid the wall panel closed, hiding Liora's secrets back in the stone.
For now.
We descended the crumbling stairs together.
Outside, the palace hummed with the same old sounds—servants, guards, distant music.
But under the noise, under the marble and silk and ceremony, something else was waking.
Not just rebellion.
Us.
Me.
Rome of Iris, almost‑queen, almost‑storm.
And as the shadows of the observatory swallowed behind us, one thought settled deep in my bones, quieter and sharper than fear.
If they wanted a spark, they were about to get the whole fire.