Chapter 18.The things we don't say

The soreness arrived before breakfast.

I woke with a groan and immediately regretted every decision that had led me to the training grounds the previous day.

My arms felt heavy, my shoulders ached, and even turning over in bed seemed like an unnecessary amount of effort.

I stared at the ceiling.

"Never again."

The words had barely left my mouth when I remembered I had promised Adrian I would return.

I closed my eyes.

"Why did I say that?"

There was a knock at the door.

I didn't answer immediately.

Another knock followed.

"Lady Seraphina?"

I recognized the maid's voice.

"Come in."

She entered carrying my morning clothes and paused when she saw me still in bed.

"Are you feeling unwell?"

"I'm fine."

She looked at me skeptically.

"I trained yesterday."

Her expression immediately changed.

"Ah."

I narrowed my eyes.

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing, my lady."

"You know something."

She smiled.

"His Highness mentioned that your muscles might hurt today."

I pushed myself upright.

"Of course he did."

She placed the clothes on the chair.

"He said you should still come to training."

I stared at her.

"He actually said that?"

"Yes."

I sank back against the pillows.

"I may have to reconsider my decision to trust him."

The maid laughed.

I eventually forced myself out of bed.

Getting dressed took longer than usual, mostly because every movement reminded me that I had muscles I had apparently never used before.

When I finally reached the mirror, I looked exhausted.

I tied my hair back and sighed.

At least I looked ready to fight.

My body strongly disagreed.

By the time I reached the courtyard, Adrian was already there.

He turned when he heard my footsteps.

His eyes immediately went to the way I was walking.

"You came."

"You sound surprised."

"I wasn't sure you would."

"I almost didn't."

His mouth curved slightly.

"But you did."

I stopped in front of him.

"My entire body hates you."

"That's normal."

"You don't look concerned."

"I'm not."

"You're terrible."

"You'll survive."

I stared at him.

"You said that yesterday."

"And you did."

I wanted to argue, but I couldn't.

He handed me a cup of water.

"Drink."

I accepted it.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

I took a few sips.

"Are we really training again today?"

"Yes."

"Can't we wait until next week?"

"No."

"Tomorrow?"

"No."

"Next month?"

He smiled.

"No."

I sighed.

"I tried."

"I know."

We walked toward the training grounds.

This time, I noticed things I hadn't paid attention to the day before. There was a small stone building beside the courtyard that I hadn't seen clearly before, probably because I had been too nervous to look around.

I pointed toward it.

"What's that?"

"Storage."

"Anything interesting inside?"

"Training equipment."

"Can we go there?"

"Why?"

"Because I'm curious."

Adrian gave me a look.

"You shouldn't be curious about everything."

"That's impossible."

He sighed.

"I know."

We continued walking.

The training grounds looked less intimidating than they had yesterday.

Perhaps because I had already survived one lesson.

Or perhaps because I had started to understand that I wasn't expected to become perfect.

Adrian handed me a wooden sword.

"Today we're working on movement."

"I thought we worked on movement yesterday."

"We did."

"Then why are we doing it again?"

"Because you still need practice."

I looked at the sword.

"I don't like how much you enjoy saying that."

"I don't enjoy it."

"You do."

He ignored me.

"Show me your stance."

I positioned my feet the way he had taught me.

He walked around me.

"Better."

I smiled.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"That means I'm improving."

"It means you're improving."

I tried not to look too pleased.

It was ridiculous how much I wanted his approval.

Adrian demonstrated another movement.

I copied it.

This time, I didn't stumble.

He nodded.

"Good."

I smiled.

"Did you see that?"

"I was standing right here."

"I did it correctly."

"You did."

I raised my sword.

"Again."

He looked amused.

"You want another?"

"Yes."

We practiced.

The second attempt was better than the first.

The third was better than the second.

By the time we stopped, my body still hurt, but the movements felt less foreign.

I could understand why Adrian had insisted on repetition.

The body remembered what the mind struggled to understand.

After several more attempts, he lowered his sword.

"You're learning."

I smiled.

"That sounds almost like praise."

"It is."

"Then I want you to say it again."

He laughed.

"You're learning."

"Thank you."

We sat on the wooden platform to rest.

I took another drink of water.

"How long did it take you to become good?"

"Years."

"Years?"

"Yes."

I stared at him.

"Then why did you expect me to be good after two days?"

"I didn't."

"You definitely did."

"I expected you to listen."

"I am listening."

"Most of the time."

I nudged his shoulder.

He looked at me.

For a second, neither of us said anything.

Then I looked away.

The moment felt strangely intimate.

Not because he had touched me.

Not because either of us had said anything romantic.

It was simply the quiet understanding between us.

I had started noticing these moments more often.

And I wasn't sure what to do with them.

I cleared my throat.

"Did you always enjoy training?"

"No."

"Really?"

"No."

"What changed?"

He looked toward the old weapons rack.

"Nothing."

I waited.

He didn't elaborate.

I studied his expression.

"You don't want to talk about it."

"It's not important."

I smiled faintly.

"That's another sentence I don't like."

"Which one?"

"It's not important."

He looked at me.

"You say it whenever you don't want to explain something."

"Sometimes."

"Why?"

He was quiet for a moment.

"Because not everything needs to be explained."

I thought about that.

Maybe he was right.

Still, I had a feeling there were things Adrian didn't talk about because they hurt too much, not because they didn't matter.

I didn't push.

Instead, I looked down at my hands.

"Do you remember the first time you saw me after my accident?"

His expression changed.

"Yes."

"What do you remember?"

He took a breath.

"You were eleven."

"I know."

"You had fallen from the west balcony."

"I know that too."

He looked at me.

"But you don't remember what happened afterward."

"No."

He was quiet.

"I remember your father carrying you."

Something moved through my chest.

"You were there?"

"Yes."

"You told me before."

"I know."

"What happened?"

Adrian looked away.

"You were unconscious."

I waited.

"When you woke up, you didn't recognize anyone."

My fingers tightened around the cup.

"Not even my father?"

"No."

"What about you?"

His eyes met mine.

"You were frightened when you saw me."

I swallowed.

"Why?"

"I don't know."

That answer hurt more than I expected.

"Did I say anything?"

"You kept asking where you were."

"What else?"

"You asked for your mother."

My chest tightened.

"I did?"

"Yes."

I looked away.

"Was she there?"

"No."

The answer came quietly.

I didn't ask why.

I already knew my mother was gone by then.

Still, hearing that I had asked for her when I was frightened made something ache inside me.

Adrian continued.

"You kept asking when she was coming."

I stared at the ground.

"What did you tell me?"

"I said she would come."

I looked at him.

"But she didn't."

"No."

There was something in his expression that made me wonder whether he had regretted that promise.

"You were just a child," I said.

"So were you."

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then Adrian said, "I didn't know what else to tell you."

I smiled sadly.

"Neither did I."

He looked at me.

"You were different after that."

"How?"

"You became quieter."

I thought about it.

"I don't remember."

"I know."

His voice softened.

"That's what frightened everyone."

"Because I forgot?"

"Because you forgot the people who loved you."

I looked down.

The words stayed with me.

I had always thought losing my memories meant losing information.

I hadn't considered what it had done to everyone else.

My father had woken one day with a daughter who looked at him like a stranger.

Adrian had watched someone he knew become afraid of him.

My mother had already been gone, but perhaps she had left behind a daughter who no longer remembered her.

I felt a heaviness settle inside me.

"I'm sorry."

Adrian frowned.

"For what?"

"For what happened."

"You didn't choose it."

"I know."

"Then don't apologize."

I looked at him.

He seemed serious.

"I just wish I remembered."

"I know."

The words were gentle.

I wondered if he understood how much that meant.

We remained there for a while.

Eventually, Adrian stood.

"Let's stop for today."

I looked up at him.

"Already?"

"You need rest."

I smiled.

"You finally admit I'm tired."

"I've known that for the past hour."

"I thought princes weren't supposed to notice things like that."

"I notice more than you think."

I stood.

"So I've learned."

We walked back toward the palace.

This time, I didn't feel as exhausted as the previous day.

My body still hurt, but the pain was manageable.

As we entered the gardens, Adrian slowed.

"You should eat properly."

"I do."

"You skipped breakfast."

"I was late."

"You were avoiding breakfast."

I looked at him.

"How do you know?"

"Because you told the maid you weren't hungry."

I sighed.

"You really do know everything."

"No."

His voice became quieter.

"I just pay attention to you."

I didn't know how to respond to that.

So I looked away.

The palace suddenly seemed much warmer than it had a moment earlier.

We reached the main corridor.

A group of guards passed us.

They bowed to Adrian before continuing.

One of them glanced at me.

I noticed it.

Adrian did too.

His expression changed.

Not dramatically.

Just enough.

I looked at him.

"What?"

"Nothing."

I smiled.

"You were about to say something."

"No."

"You were."

He sighed.

"Some people are still trying to understand why you're here."

I looked down the corridor.

"Let them."

His eyes returned to me.

"I'm not worried about them."

"Then what are you worried about?"

He didn't answer immediately.

"That people will use your presence in the palace against you."

I understood.

"If they do, I'll deal with it."

He smiled slightly.

"That's the spirit."

We separated near the library.

Adrian had to attend another council meeting, while I decided to spend some time reading.

The library was quiet.

I found a seat near the window and opened one of Victoria's journals.

After yesterday, I had begun looking at her writing differently.

Before, every page had seemed like evidence.

Now, I saw pieces of a woman.

A mother.

A wife.

A friend.

A person who had worries that had nothing to do with the Order.

I turned another page.

There was a list of books.

Some were political.

Others were about history.

Then I found a small note written beneath them.

Seraphina keeps stealing my books and pretending she hasn't.

I laughed.

"That sounds like me."

I could almost picture her writing it.

I turned the page.

Another note.

She says she wants to read everything. I told her she should start with one book at a time. She said that was boring.

I smiled.

The feeling in my chest was warm and painful at the same time.

I wished I could remember her voice.

I wished I could remember the way she looked at me.

I wished I could remember being her daughter.

Instead, I had these pages.

Maybe they were enough.

For now.

A shadow fell across the table.

I looked up.

Evelina stood there.

"You've become a regular here."

I closed the journal halfway.

"I like it."

She pulled out the chair opposite me.

"I can tell."

She looked at the journal.

"You're reading about your mother again."

"Yes."

"Have you found anything useful?"

I smiled.

"Not everything has to be useful."

She looked surprised.

"That's new."

"What?"

"You used to ask what every piece of information meant."

I laughed.

"I still do."

"But?"

"But I'm learning that some things can simply be remembered."

Evelina smiled.

"That's probably what your mother would have wanted."

I looked down.

"Did she ever talk about me?"

"All the time."

"Even to you?"

"Especially to me."

I looked at her.

"What did she say?"

Evelina leaned back.

"She said you were stubborn."

I laughed.

"Everyone keeps saying that."

"Because it's true."

"What else?"

"She said you were curious."

"That's better."

"She also said you were sensitive."

I looked down.

"I don't think I am."

Evelina smiled.

"You are."

"I don't cry easily."

"Being sensitive doesn't mean crying easily."

I looked at her.

"What does it mean?"

"It means you notice things other people ignore."

I thought about that.

Maybe she was right.

I noticed when Adrian was tired.

I noticed when the Queen reacted to my pendant.

I noticed when my father avoided certain questions.

I noticed when people looked at me differently.

Maybe sensitivity wasn't weakness.

Maybe it was simply another way of paying attention.

Evelina looked toward the window.

"Your mother worried about you."

"I know."

"She worried that one day you would learn too much."

I looked at her.

"About the Order?"

"Not exactly."

"What then?"

Evelina shook her head.

"I don't know."

I didn't press her.

She had already told me more than she was certain about.

I respected that.

After a moment, she stood.

"I should let you read."

"Thank you."

She smiled.

"Seraphina."

"Yes?"

"You really are changing."

I smiled.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No."

She shook her head.

"I don't think so."

Then she left.

I returned my attention to the journal.

For the next hour, I read quietly.

When I finally closed it, the palace had begun to darken outside.

I stood and stretched.

My muscles protested immediately.

I laughed.

"Fine. I get it."

I returned to my room.

Dinner was waiting, and this time I ate every bite.

Afterward, I sat by the window.

The palace was peaceful again.

I thought about Adrian's story.

The first time he had seen me after my accident.

The frightened girl I had been.

The mother I had asked for.

The life I couldn't remember.

I wondered whether remembering everything would really make things better.

Maybe some memories were painful for a reason.

Maybe the mind sometimes protected itself when the truth was too much to carry.

Still, I wanted to remember.

Not because I needed another mystery.

Because I wanted to know the people who had loved Seraphina before I ever became her.

I wanted to know my mother.

I wanted to understand my father.

And perhaps, slowly, I wanted to understand Adrian too.

A soft knock came at the door.

I looked up.

"Come in."

Adrian entered.

He had changed out of his formal clothes, and his expression looked tired.

"Long day?"

"Very."

He sat in the chair near the window.

"How was your afternoon?"

"I read."

"Your mother's journals?"

"Yes."

He nodded.

I hesitated.

"Adrian."

"Yes?"

"Thank you for telling me about the accident."

His expression softened.

"You don't have to thank me."

"I wanted to."

He looked at me.

"I know."

I touched the pendant at my neck.

"I think I'm starting to understand why everyone was so afraid when I woke up."

Adrian didn't answer immediately.

"Maybe."

"Was I really that different?"

"Yes."

I looked down.

"Was I difficult?"

A small smile appeared on his face.

"Very."

I laughed.

"That's comforting."

"You were stubborn."

"Apparently I still am."

"Definitely."

We both smiled.

The room became quiet.

Then I asked, "Do you remember what I was like before?"

He thought for a moment.

"You talked a lot."

I looked offended.

"I do not."

"You did."

"What else?"

"You hated being told what to do."

"That sounds familiar."

"You used to follow your mother everywhere."

I looked down.

"I wish I remembered that."

"I know."

His voice was quiet.

"You loved the gardens."

I looked toward the window.

"I still do."

"I know."

He smiled.

For a while, we simply sat there.

There was no need to fill the silence.

Eventually, Adrian stood.

"You should sleep."

"I will."

He walked toward the door.

"Adrian?"

He turned.

"Yes?"

"Tomorrow?"

"Training."

I smiled.

"Right."

He opened the door.

"You don't have to come if you're too sore."

I stared at him.

"You're giving me permission to skip?"

"Yes."

"I'll come."

He laughed.

"I thought so."

The door closed behind him.

I sat there for a moment, smiling.

Then I climbed into bed.

My arms still ached.

My memories were still incomplete.

The answers I wanted were still somewhere beyond my reach.

But tonight, I didn't feel like I was losing.

I was learning.

Slowly.

One memory at a time.

One choice at a time.

And for the first time since I had opened my eyes in this world, I wasn't waiting for the story to tell me who I was.

I was beginning to decide for myself.