Chapter 12

The third tap echoed through the stillness, a sound so subtle it felt more like a fingernail scraping against stone than an actual knock.

I pressed my palm against the frigid wall beside my cot, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Who’s there?” I called out, my voice barely rising above a whisper.

The guards outside shifted uneasily, one muttering that I should stop babbling to myself. I ignored him and leaned in closer, straining to listen.

Three precise taps answered me, clear and deliberate.

Then, silence enveloped the cell.

I pulled my hand back, my skin tingling from the cold surface of the wall. Yet something else lingered beneath my fingertips, a faint tremor pulsing through the stone, fading into the darkness below. This wasn’t coming from the narrow passage we had uncovered behind my cot; that entrance remained desolate, choked with dust. No, these sounds came from the opposite side of my cell.

Somebody was moving through the Citadel undetected, or perhaps someone wanted me to believe they were.

Crouching low, I examined the wall with mounting urgency. No hinges, no seams, no signs of wear. Each stone felt solid beneath my probing fingers, yielding no secrets. But then I noticed a thin line of grey dust gathered at the base of one particular stone. My instincts flared as I reached out to touch it; it was fresh.

Suddenly, a guard struck the bars with his baton. “Step away from the wall!”

I stood slowly, maintaining eye contact. “You heard that.”

“Heard what?”

“The tapping,” I insisted.

He glanced at the wall and then back at me. The way his fingers gripped the baton told me everything I needed to know.

“Tell Commander Cassian,” I urged.

“I take orders, not messages for prisoners.”

“Just tell him I was inspecting the wall. He’ll understand,” I pressed.

The guard hesitated, his gaze wavering. But before he could speak, footsteps approached down the corridor. Commander Cassian emerged beyond the bars, his keen eyes scanning between me and the dark passage behind my cot.

“What happened?” he demanded, his voice sharp.

“Someone knocked from the other side of that wall.”

Cassian directed his attention to the guard. “Did you hear it?”

“No, Commander.”

The lie slipped from his lips too quickly.

Cassian dismissed him with a swift look, then crouched beside the wall, studying the dust with an unyielding expression. He didn’t touch it.

“How many times?” he asked, his voice low.

“Three.”

“Evenly spaced?”

“Almost. The last was softer,” I replied.

His jaw tightened, and he scrutinized me closely. “Did you respond?”

“I asked who was there.”

“And?”

“Three taps," I repeated.

Cassian’s expression darkened as he stood. “No one leaves this corridor. I’ll order the adjoining rooms searched.”

“Search the wall, too,” I insisted.

“I intend to,” he said, his tone somewhat ominous.

“You sound like you already know what you’ll find.”

“I sound like I’m not going to reveal my suspicions until I have proof,” he shot back.

He instructed two guards to remain outside my cell before departing, and I watched him leave, unease coiling in my stomach. Whoever had tapped on that wall knew I was here. They might have even heard my voice.

That thought settled heavily in my mind as Cassian returned, a folded parchment in hand. “Lucian wants to see you.”

“Does he now?” I replied, trepidation edging into my tone.

“He’s been reviewing your translation notes.”

A knot twisted in my stomach. “Why?”

“Because one of them contains a word you thought you had hidden.” 

He led me through the administrative wing, guarded closely to avoid the bustling main hall but still feeling exposed under countless watchful eyes. Servants lowered their heads in apprehension as we passed. Outside a small chamber, two Council guards stood like sentinels, a stark reminder that Vane’s restrictions loomed large.

Inside, Lucian waited by a table cluttered with papers. His injured shoulder was tightly wrapped beneath a dark shirt, and though fatigue shadowed his features, he wouldn’t admit it.

“You’ve been reading my work,” I stated, my voice edged.

“You gave me little choice,” he replied coolly.

“I don’t recall granting you permission.”

“Prisoner or not, I have my duties.”

His gaze locked onto mine with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. “Ninth page. Near the bottom.”

I hesitated, my skin prickling.

He turned the page toward me, revealing a faint, hasty mark where I had tried to erase a word. The first four letters remained, taunting me.

“Sol…”

He nodded, a knowing glimmer in his eyes. “You recognized it.”

“I recognize many words,” I countered, deflecting.

“Not this one. Not without reacting.”

Cassian stood silently near the door, a heavy tension filling the air.

Lucian set another parchment beside my notes, my pulse quickening at the sight of its seal. Aged paper, edged in black. The Archive Keepers had answered Lucian’s inquiry. Records concerning Solis had been sealed by royal decree after the Purge, three hundred years ago. Anyone displaying confirmed markers of that bloodline was to be reported to the High Council and held under royal custody until judgment.

I read the parchment again, my mind racing.

“Confirmed markers,” I murmured. “A word on a page isn’t a bloodline.”

“No,” Lucian replied, his voice steady. “It isn’t.”

“Then why show me this?” I pressed, dread creeping in.

“Because someone has been weaving that name into our case. Because my father’s papers bore the crest. Because your mother seemed to know something you don’t.” 

Silence hung between us, heavy with unspoken truths.

“If Vane gets his hands on this document,” I warned, “he’ll exploit it.”

Lucian’s expression darkened. “He would certainly leverage the possibility. The statute gives the Council grounds to demand custody if they believe it applies.”

“And you would hand me over?” I shot back, the tension thickening the air.

His gaze was steely. “I have not yet made my decision.”

That wasn’t exactly comforting. Yet, part of me preferred the uncertainty.

Cassian stepped forward, urgency in his tone. “There’s something else. The search revealed no entrance behind the wall, but the old plans show a service channel running beneath this part of the Citadel. It was sealed before the current cells were constructed.”

“Could someone still access it?” I probed, my heart racing.

“If the seal has been disturbed,” he replied.

“And has it been?”

“We haven’t located the access point yet.”

Lucian’s attention shifted to the parchment in his hands. “The Archive Keepers included a note. Their surviving index indicates that the seal was inspected eleven years ago.”

Eleven years.

My mother’s warning surged back, a memory so vivid it nearly slipped from my lips. I had been eleven when she caught me studying the crest on a scrap of paper. Gripping my shoulders, she had drilled into me her warning.

“If anyone asks about the crest, you know nothing. Swear it to me. Swear it on my grave if you have to.”

“Who conducted the inspection?” I asked, my voice laced with unease.

“The name is missing from our copy,” Cassian replied. “The original register is among the sealed records.”

“Convenient, isn’t it?” I said, frustration bubbling.

“Or deliberate,” Lucian countered, his eyes narrowing.

Just then, a knock echoed through the chamber. A guard from the Council stepped in, handing Cassian a narrow envelope. The wax seal bore no crest, only a small indentation like a circle split down the middle.

Cassian opened it, and his expression shifted dramatically as he read.

“What is it?” Lucian pressed, sensing the change.

“A correction from the Archive Keepers. They claim the inspection record wasn’t destroyed; it was deliberately removed from the register.”

“By whom?” I demanded, a knot forming in my stomach.

Cassian flipped the parchment over. A line lingered beneath the message, inscribed in a different hand.

He didn’t read it aloud.

“Let me see,” I insisted, extending my hand.

Lucian intercepted the note first. His eyes raced over the final line, and for the first time since I had met him, he lost his composure.

“What does it say?” I urged, desperation creeping into my voice.

He folded the parchment carefully, like handling a fragile secret.

“Prince,” Cassian said quietly, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

Lucian’s gaze bore into me. “The inspection wasn’t authorized by the King.”

“Then who did authorize it?” I pressed, my heartbeat quickening. 

He fell silent, the tension building like a coiled spring.

Then, from beneath the chamber floor, three soft taps echoed back, sending a chill down my spine.

This time, they came from directly below us, a sinister reminder that we were not alone.