BURIED SECRETS

Two days into the investigation, and Sera was ready to scream.

The books Lucien brought were mostly useless—sanitized histories that painted vampires as noble victims and witches as treacherous villains. Nothing about Aldric's proposed reforms. Nothing about dissent in his council. Nothing contradicts the official story.

She'd read the letter fragment so many times she had it memorized. The handwriting was old-fashioned, done with a quill. Whoever wrote it had education and status. But that described half the vampire nobility in 1624.

A knock interrupted her thoughts. Lucien entered without waiting for an answer, carrying more books.

"Anything?" he asked.

"No. You?"

He set the books down. "I accessed my family's private archives last night. Found correspondence between my grandfather and his father about Aldric. Most of it's just grief and rage after the murder. But there's one thing."

Sera looked up. "What?"

"A letter from Aldric to his son, written two weeks before he died. He mentions feeling unsafe. Says some council members opposed his plans for the kingdom's future."

"What plans?"

"He doesn't specify. Just says he's meeting resistance and fears it might become dangerous." Lucien pulled out a copied page. "Here. 'My son, if anything happens to me, know that I acted for the good of both our people. Some refuse to see reason, and I fear their hatred runs deeper than I hoped.'"

Sera took the page and read it carefully. "Both our people. He means vampires and witches."

"Possibly."

"Definitely." She pointed at the phrase. "He was planning something that would benefit both species. Something his council opposed. That's motive for murder."

 

Lucien sat on the edge of the desk. "It's still not proof. And it doesn't tell us who actually did it."

"No, but it's a pattern. The letter fragment suggests that the writer does not want peace. Aldric talks about resistance to his plans for 'both our people.'

 

Before he could bring the species together, someone on his council wanted him dead."

"You're making logical leaps."

"I'm connecting dots," Sera clarified. "We must ascertain who served on Aldric's council in 1624. Who stood to lose the most if vampires and witches were at peace?

For a while, Lucien remained silent. "The royal archives would contain that information.

 

Records my father controls."

"Can you access them?"

"Maybe. If I'm careful."

He looked her in the eye. "You know what you're asking? If my father discovers that I'm looking into the death of his grandfather, treating it more like an open case than a resolved historical matter—"He'll be upset.

 

I know."

"He'll think the bond has compromised my judgment. That you've manipulated me somehow." Lucien's voice was tight. "I've spent centuries earning his trust, proving my loyalty. This could destroy that."

Sera stood, moving closer. The bond hummed between them, stronger every day. "Then why are you helping me?"

"Because..." He trailed off, jaw clenching. "Because I've read that letter ten times now. And the handwriting bothers me."

"What about it?"

"It's familiar.

 

Somewhere in the palace records, I've already seen it. He appeared irritated. "I know I've seen that particular kind of letter formation, but I'm not sure where. The script's slant and the flourish on the capital letters

Sera's pulse quickened. "We'd have our murderer if you could identify whose handwriting it is.

 

Or at least an accomplice." Lucien stood. "I'll search tonight. My father's in council meetings until late. That gives me a few hours."

"I should come with you."

"Definitely not. You are limited to this wing. Guards would believe you are attempting to flee if they see you walking the palace."

"After that, bring copies of everything you discover to me.

 

Anything with handwriting samples, council records, correspondence—"

 

"I know what to look for," Lucien said. He didn't sound harsh, though. Almost soft. "You must get some rest. You haven't slept much since coming here."

He was correct. Her eyelids burned from exhaustion, which tugged at her bones. However, sleep meant squandering time.

"Twenty-seven days left," she stated.

"I know."

 

He moved toward the door, paused. "Sera. If we don't find proof, if this doesn't work—"

"We will."

"But if we don't," he pressed. "My father won't show mercy. The bond won't stop him from ordering your execution."

"I know that too." She managed a tired smile. "Guess we better find proof then."

 

Sera made an effort to concentrate on the literature when he departed. However, her thoughts kept returning to the exchange and to Lucien's expression when he said the handwriting was recognizable. Now he was truly assisting her. investigating rather than only going through the motions due to the link.

That ought to have been comforting. Rather, it scared her. Because she wouldn't be the only one to suffer if they failed. Lucien would lose his father's respect and possibly his job. All because, despite four hundred years of vampire history, he had decided to believe a witch.

Sometime after midnight, she dozed off at the desk with her head resting on her arms and the letter fragment neatly placed in its folder next to her.

 

The next morning brought unexpected visitors.

Sera was eating breakfast when Elara entered, accompanied by an older vampire she didn't recognize. He wore formal robes that suggested high rank, and his eyes were cold as they assessed her.

"Councilor Thaddeus," Elara said. "He has questions."

Sera set down her fork slowly. "About what?"

"Your research." Thaddeus moved closer, his movements precise. "Prince Lucien has been accessing restricted archives. Making inquiries about historical records. The king wants to know why."

"He's helping me investigate Aldric's murder. You knew that."

"We knew he was humoring your delusions," Thaddeus corrected. "We didn't realize he was taking them seriously. Or that he was digging into sealed records without proper authorization."

Sera's stomach dropped. They'd caught Lucien.

"What happened?" she asked, keeping her voice steady.

"He was found in the royal archives last night, going through documents that haven't been touched in centuries." Thaddeus smiled, showing fangs. "He claimed to be conducting research for your investigation. Is that true?"

It was a trap. If she said yes, she'd confirm that Lucien was compromised, acting against his father's interests. If she said no, she'd make him look like he was lying.

"I asked him to look for information," Sera said carefully. "About the historical context of the murder. He was trying to help me meet the king's challenge."

"How convenient." Thaddeus pulled out a folder. "He was specifically searching for records of council members from 1624. For correspondence between them and King Aldric. Why would that be relevant unless you're suggesting one of them was involved?"

"Because understanding the political climate at the time helps establish motive and opportunity."

"For Morgana Thorne, you mean. The witch who confessed to the murder."

Sera's hands clenched under the table. "She confessed under torture. Those confessions are worthless."

"Are they? Or is that simply what you need to believe?" Thaddeus leaned forward. "Tell me, Miss Thorne. What exactly do you hope to accomplish here? Even if you could prove—impossibly—that someone else killed King Aldric, it wouldn't change anything. The war has been going on for four centuries. Too much blood has been spilled. Your people have killed thousands of ours. We've killed thousands of yours. No ancient murder mystery will undo that."

"Maybe not. But it might stop the next four hundred years of killing."

"Noble sentiment. Naive, but noble." He straightened. "The king wants you to know that Prince Lucien will no longer be involved in your investigation. He has duties to the kingdom that take precedence over entertaining your theories. You'll continue your research alone."

"No." The word came out before Sera could stop it.

Elara's hand went to her weapon. "Excuse me?"

"The king gave me one month to prove my claim. He never said I had to do it alone." Sera stood, facing Thaddeus directly. "If you want to change the terms, tell him to come say it to my face."

For a long moment, the room was silent. Then Thaddeus laughed—a cold, humorless sound.

"You have courage. Foolish courage, but courage nonetheless." He moved toward the door. "Very well. I'll convey your message to His Majesty. I'm sure he'll be fascinated to hear that his prisoner is making demands."

After they left, Sera sank back into her chair, adrenaline making her hands shake. That had been stupid. Reckless. But she couldn't let them separate her from Lucien, not when they were finally making progress.

The bond pulsed with his frustration somewhere in the palace. He'd felt the confrontation through their connection, felt her defiance and fear.

An hour later, he appeared at her door, looking furious.

"What were you thinking?" he demanded. "Challenging my father through Thaddeus? Do you have a death wish?"

"I was thinking that we're running out of time and they're trying to sabotage us." Sera crossed her arms. "Did you find anything last night before they caught you?"

His expression shifted. "Yes."

"Show me."

He pulled papers from inside his jacket—copies, hastily made. "Council records from 1624. I didn't have time to go through them all, but I grabbed what I could." He spread them on the desk. "Look at this one."

It was a formal letter, addressed to King Aldric. Sera's eyes caught on the signature: Silas Greythorne, Councilor.

Then she saw the handwriting.

The flourish on the capital letters. The specific slant of the script. The way certain letters are connected.

"It's the same," she breathed. "The letter fragment—this is the same handwriting."

Lucien nodded grimly. "Silas Greythorne wrote that letter. He knew Aldric was going to die because he was planning it."

"Who is he? Was he?"

 

 

"One of Aldric's most trusted advisors. He was at the murder scene, one of the first to arrive after Morgana's screams. His testimony at her trial was damning—he described the scene in detail, swore she was holding the bloody knife."

Sera's mind raced. "He framed her. Set the whole thing up, made sure he'd be the first witness so he could control the narrative."

"It looks that way."

 

 

"Then we have our proof. This is it." She grabbed the papers. "We can take this to your father, show him—"

"Show him what?" Lucien interrupted. "That a man who died three hundred years ago might have been involved in his grandfather's murder? Silas is dead, Sera. Long dead. There's no one to accuse, no justice to be had."

 

"But it proves Morgana was innocent. That she was framed."

"Maybe." Lucien's voice was heavy. "But it also raises questions we can't answer. Like why Silas did it. What he had to gain. And whether he acted alone or had help."

Sera looked at the council records spread across the desk. "Then we find those answers. We have twenty-six days left. We can do this."

 

 

"Can we?" Lucien moved closer, his expression pained. "Or are we just delaying the inevitable? Even if we prove everything you believe, what happens then? You think my father will apologize for four centuries of war? You think our people will suddenly embrace peace because of something that happened before any of us were born?"

 

"I think the truth matters. Even if it's complicated. Even if it doesn't fix everything." Sera met his eyes. "Don't you?"

He didn't answer. But through the bond, she felt his conflict—duty warring with growing doubt, loyalty fighting against an uncomfortable truth that refused to stay buried.