Chapter 5

SAPHRA'S POV

I wake with my heart already racing, as if it knew before my mind did that something was wrong.

The first thing I do is roll out of bed and go for the door.

I don’t even hesitate.

My fingers wrap around the handle and twist.

It opens.

For one wild, dizzying second hope explodes in my chest. It's too easy and simple. I step into the corridor, bare feet touching cold stone, breath shallow, and senses sharp. The palace hallway stretches in both directions, lit by tall windows that pour pale morning light across the floor. I take one step forward.

Two spears slam down in front of me.

Metal crosses in an X so close I nearly run into it.

I jerk back, heart pounding, and finally look up.

Two guards stand there, perfectly still. Identical armour. Identical blank expressions. As if they aren’t even men but statues brought to life.

“Why am i being restricted?” I ask, confused. “You don’t have the right to block me.”

Neither of them blinks.

“Can i leave?” My voice rises, cracking with anger and fear. “who ordered you to guard my door and cage me in.”

No response.Nothing.

The spears remain crossed.

Rage surges through me, hot and helpless. I look down the corridor, then back at them, calculating how fast I could dart between them, how hard I would have to shove past them.

Then they shift at the same time, closing the gap by a fraction of an inch as if reading my mind.

A silent warning.

I know when I have been beaten.

With a sharp, bitter breath, I turn and storm back into my room, slamming the door behind me so hard the walls seem to tremble.

So that’s how it’s going to be.

A prison without bars.

I pace like a trapped animal, back and forth, hands clenching and unclenching. Every minute stretches thin and brittle. My thoughts won’t settle. Lucien’s face keeps flashing in my mind—his cold eyes, the way his voice wrapped around my name like a threat.

Why keep me locked up if he plans to kill me?

Why leave the door unlocked if the corridor is guarded?

Control...

It’s all about control.

Hours crawl by. The sun moves across the floor in a slow, mocking arc. I try to sit. I can’t. I try to lie down. My skin feels too tight, my nerves too raw.

Then there’s a knock. Could it be Lucien?

I whirl toward the door.

“Come in,” I say, forcing my voice steady.

Marcus steps inside, bowing slightly. His expression is neutral, but his eyes flick over me with something like pity.

“Lord Lucien requests your presence in his study.”

Of course he does.

My stomach twists as I follow Marcus through the guarded corridor and deeper into the palace. Every step feels like walking toward an executioner’s block. Lucien’s study is massive, all towering shelves and heavy wooden furniture. Papers and scrolls are scattered across his desk and the floor, as if even he has lost control of his own order.

Lucien stands near the window, his back to me.

“Sort them,” he says without turning around. His voice is bored, almost lazy. “Put the reports in order. I’ll return later.”

Then he leaves.

Just like that.

The door closes behind him with a soft click that echoes far too loudly in the room.

I stare at it, half expecting him to come back and say this is some kind of cruel joke.

He doesn’t.

Slowly, warily, I move toward the desk. My hands tremble as I pick up the first stack of papers containing military seals, dates, and locations.

I tell myself it’s just dull paperwork. That I don’t care.

Then I see a familiar name.

My father’s.

It’s written in red ink, circled twice.

My breath stutters. My fingers go numb as I pull the page closer.

It’s a massacre report.

I scan the words, my eyes burning as the truth slams into me line by line. Battle formations. Flanking manoeuvres. Casualty counts. Numbers that mean nothing until I realize those numbers are people... soldiers, villagers, and men who followed my father into death.

And at the bottom…

His final words.

I don’t even remember dropping to my knees, but suddenly I’m there, papers spread around me like fallen leaves.

He died betrayed.

The door opens.

The sound is soft, but it might as well be thunder.

I freeze, the report still clutched in my hands, my knuckles white with strain. I don’t need to look to know who it is.

Lucien.

I feel him before I see him. The weight of his presence presses against my back, heavy and inescapable. I slowly turn.

His eyes drop to the papers in my hands.

Then rise to my face.

Understanding passes between us in a single, sharp moment. He knows what I have found. I know he never meant for me to see it.

Heat floods my body, sudden and terrifying, colliding with the grief clawing at my chest. My heart is breaking, and something darker is waking up inside me.

Lucien’s jaw tightens. His gaze is unreadable, a storm held barely in check.

“why are you going through my documents,” he says quietly. I remain silent, trying to pick up the papers from the floor.

The air between us crackles.... Anger. Something sharp and intimate that makes my skin prickle.

For a moment, I think he might step toward me.

Instead, he straightens.

“Leave,” he says.

Just one word.

I scramble to my feet, the papers slipping from my hands. I don’t even look at him as I rush past, out the door, down the corridor. My legs are unsteady, my vision blurred by tears, and I refuse to let fall.

Behind me, Lucien remains in his study, surrounded by secrets and bloodstained truth.

And I run, because if I don’t, I might turn back and do something that I may regret.