Chapter 20.The door that should have stayed closed

The palace was quieter before sunrise.

I had started noticing that about Aveloria. During the day, the palace seemed almost impossible to escape. Servants hurried through the corridors carrying trays and folded clothes, guards moved between posts, nobles appeared and disappeared behind polished doors, and somewhere in the distance there was always the sound of someone giving an order.

But before dawn, everything changed.

The corridors belonged to shadows.

I woke before anyone came to call me and remained beneath the covers for several minutes, staring at the ceiling.

There was no obvious reason for me to be awake.

Nothing had happened.

At least, nothing that I knew of.

Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

I finally pushed myself out of bed and walked toward the window. The sky was still dark, with only the faintest hint of blue appearing beyond the palace towers. I rested my hand against the cold glass and looked down at the courtyard.

Two guards stood near the main entrance.

Another walked along the eastern wall.

Everything looked normal.

That should have made me feel better.

Instead, it made me more uneasy.

Ever since I had arrived in Aveloria, I had learned that danger rarely announced itself. It usually looked ordinary until the moment it wasn't.

A soft knock came at my door.

“Lady Seraphina?”

“Come in.”

The maid entered carrying my morning clothes. She looked at me, then at the untouched bed.

“You're already awake.”

“I couldn't sleep.”

She placed the clothes on the chair. “Again?”

I turned toward her. “Again?”

“You've been waking up early since you came here.”

“I have?”

She nodded as though she had been keeping count.

“You also talk in your sleep.”

I stared at her.

“I do not.”

“You do.”

“What do I say?”

She smiled innocently. “I don't think you want to know.”

I narrowed my eyes at her.

She laughed and moved toward the curtains.

For a few seconds, the room felt normal.

It was strange how much I appreciated moments like that now.

Before coming here, I had never thought much about ordinary mornings. I had never considered how comforting it could be to complain about being tired, argue with someone over breakfast, or simply stand near a window without wondering whether someone was watching from the shadows.

Now, even small pieces of normal life felt valuable.

I dressed slowly, choosing something simple enough for training. My body was still sore from the previous sessions with Adrian, especially my arms and shoulders.

When I finished, I looked at myself in the mirror.

The woman staring back at me was Seraphina Vale.

But sometimes, when I looked long enough, I still expected to see the face I had known before Aveloria.

The face of the woman who had lived another life.

The life where this world had been nothing more than words on a screen.

I touched the pendant resting against my chest.

Victoria had given it to Seraphina.

At least, that was what I had been told.

Yet the more I learned, the less simple everything became.

The pendant had appeared after my childhood accident. The Order had connections to it. My mother had investigated the Order. Someone had known I would survive. Someone had written down my fate twelve years before I understood what fate even meant.

And now I was living in a story that had already been written.

Only it wasn't following the story anymore.

That thought followed me out of my room.

By the time I reached the breakfast hall, Adrian was already there.

He was standing near the long windows, speaking with one of the guards. When he noticed me, he dismissed the man with a quiet gesture.

“You're early,” he said.

“So are you.”

“I've been awake for a while.”

“That doesn't surprise me.”

One corner of his mouth lifted.

“You sound disappointed.”

“I was hoping the Crown Prince had finally learned how to sleep.”

“I'm working on it.”

I sat down across from him.

Breakfast was brought a few minutes later, and for a while neither of us spoke much. I found myself enjoying the quiet.

Then Adrian placed his cup down.

“My father wants you to remain in the palace for the time being.”

I looked up.

“For how long?”

“He didn't say.”

“That's convenient.”

His expression remained calm. “It's for your safety.”

I pushed a piece of fruit around my plate.

“I thought the palace was supposed to be safer than my father's estate.”

“It is.”

“Then why does it sound like you're trying to convince yourself?”

Adrian gave me a look.

I smiled despite myself.

“You've become difficult.”

“I was difficult before you met me.”

“I noticed.”

There was something different between us now.

A few weeks ago, a conversation like this would have felt impossible. He had looked at me as though I were a threat. I had been terrified of him because I knew exactly what his character was supposed to become in the original story.

Now we could sit across from each other and argue over breakfast.

That felt like progress.

Adrian leaned back slightly.

“I want you to stay here.”

The humor disappeared from my face.

“You mean because of the Order?”

“Because of everything.”

He didn't explain further.

He didn't need to.

I understood.

The Order had already reached too far into my life. My childhood accident, my mother's investigation, Adrian's attacks, the messages, the altered fate records. Every answer seemed to lead to another question.

“I'll stay,” I said.

His eyes rested on me for a moment.

“Thank you.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Was that difficult for you to say?”

“Very.”

I laughed.

He shook his head, but I noticed the faint smile he tried to hide.

After breakfast, we went to the training grounds.

The morning air was cooler than I expected, and the courtyard was almost empty. Adrian handed me a wooden sword.

I took it and examined it.

“You know,” I said, “I still think there should be an easier way to learn this.”

“There is.”

I looked hopeful.

“Don't get attacked.”

My face fell.

“That isn't helpful.”

“It wasn't meant to be.”

He stepped into position.

I copied him.

This time, I wasn't as awkward as I had been during my first lesson. My feet were more stable, and I had started understanding how much balance mattered.

Adrian noticed.

“You're improving.”

“I know.”

He gave me a surprised look.

I smiled. “You don't have to look so shocked.”

“I wasn't shocked.”

“You were.”

“I was impressed.”

That caught me off guard.

I looked away before he could see how much the compliment affected me.

“Again,” he said.

We trained for nearly an hour.

He corrected my grip when I held the sword too tightly and made me repeat the same movement until my body stopped thinking about it. When I made mistakes, he didn't mock me. When I succeeded, he didn't praise me excessively either.

He simply expected me to keep going.

Strangely, I liked that.

It made me feel capable.

Not safe.

Not invincible.

Capable.

There was a difference.

At one point, Adrian stepped behind me to correct my stance. His hand lightly touched my elbow.

“Relax your shoulder.”

“I am relaxed.”

“You're holding your sword like you're trying to break it.”

“Maybe it deserves it.”

He laughed quietly.

I turned my head toward him.

“You laughed.”

“I do that sometimes.”

“I've never seen it.”

“Then you've been paying attention to the wrong things.”

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then he stepped away.

I looked down at the sword.

Something about the moment made me suddenly aware of how close we had become.

Not physically.

Not only that.

There was a growing familiarity between us that I hadn't expected.

Trust had started replacing suspicion.

Slowly.

Carefully.

And I knew better than anyone how dangerous trust could be in a story like this.

When the lesson ended, I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand.

“I have a question.”

Adrian sheathed his sword.

“Go ahead.”

“Why do you trust me?”

He looked at me for several seconds.

“I don't know if I completely do.”

I nodded.

“That sounds more honest.”

“But I trust what you've shown me.”

I waited.

“You've had opportunities to hurt me,” he continued. “You didn't take them. You've also had reasons to leave, but you stayed.”

“I don't know where I'd go.”

“You could still have tried.”

I looked down.

There was something painfully simple about his answer.

He wasn't saying that I was innocent because he believed I was incapable of doing anything wrong.

He was saying he had watched my choices.

And he was judging me by them.

Maybe that was the only kind of trust that mattered.

We started walking back toward the palace.

I was about to say something when I noticed a guard standing near the eastern corridor.

There was nothing unusual about having a guard there.

The palace was full of them.

But something about him made me slow down.

He was taller than most of the others, with dark hair pulled back neatly behind his head. His uniform looked almost identical to the rest of the palace guards, but one detail caught my attention.

A thin silver-white scar ran from the corner of his left eye toward his cheek.

It disappeared beneath the edge of his collar.

I stared for a second longer than I should have.

The guard noticed.

Our eyes met.

He didn't look away immediately.

Instead, his gaze moved briefly toward Adrian before returning to me.

Then I noticed his sword.

Every guard I had seen so far carried his sword on the left side.

His was on the right.

It seemed like such a small thing.

But by now I had learned not to ignore small things.

His right hand moved slightly toward the hilt.

Not enough to draw it.

Just enough for me to notice something tied around the handle.

A thin piece of black thread.

It was almost hidden beneath the leather wrapping.

My attention fixed on it.

The guard lowered his hand.

“Do you know him?” I asked Adrian quietly.

Adrian followed my gaze.

“No.”

“You're sure?”

“I've seen hundreds of guards since I became Crown Prince. That doesn't mean I know every face.”

“But the scar…”

Adrian studied the man.

“I haven't seen it before.”

The guard suddenly turned toward the courtyard.

A moment later, another group of guards crossed between us, blocking my view.

When they passed, he was gone.

I stopped walking.

“Where did he go?”

Adrian looked toward the corridor.

“He probably changed posts.”

“That quickly?”

“Seraphina.”

I turned to him.

His expression had changed.

“What?”

“Don't follow him.”

“I wasn't going to.”

“You were thinking about it.”

“I was curious.”

“Curiosity is how people end up in places they shouldn't be.”

I folded my arms.

“Is that supposed to be advice?”

“Yes.”

“You're becoming very controlling.”

“And you're becoming very reckless.”

“Maybe we're both improving.”

He almost smiled.

Almost.

We continued toward the palace, but I kept thinking about the guard.

The scar.

The sword.

The black thread.

None of it proved anything.

Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had seen something similar before.

I just couldn't remember where.

By midday, Evelina came to my room.

She didn't knock twice.

She opened the door, stepped inside, and closed it behind her.

Her expression told me immediately that she hadn't come to gossip.

“What happened?”

She glanced toward the hallway before speaking.

“Someone has been asking about you.”

My stomach tightened.

“Who?”

“I don't know.”

“Then how do you know?”

“Because I've heard the questions.”

I sat down.

“What kind of questions?”

“Where you spend your time. Who accompanies you. Whether you still read your mother's records.”

I stared at her.

“Did you tell them anything?”

“No.”

Evelina sat beside me.

“There is something else.”

I waited.

“I saw a guard near the eastern corridor this morning.”

My attention sharpened.

“What did he look like?”

She frowned slightly.

“Tall. Dark hair. Scar near his left eye.”

I sat up straighter.

“That guard.”

“You saw him?”

“Yes.”

“Did you notice anything strange?”

“His sword was on the right side.”

Evelina's expression changed.

“And the black thread?”

I nodded.

She went quiet.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I've seen that thread before.”

My pulse quickened.

“Where?”

“At the Vale estate.”

“When?”

She looked toward the window.

“Before your accident.”

I waited for her to continue.

“I don't remember seeing the same guard,” she said. “But I remember the thread. Your mother kept a piece of black cloth after the accident. She thought it might have belonged to someone who had been near the west wing.”

“Where is it?”

Evelina hesitated.

“I brought it with me.”

She reached inside her cloak and removed a folded piece of dark fabric.

I stared at it.

Silver stitching ran along one edge.

My fingers hovered above it before I touched the material.

It felt old.

Dry.

Almost fragile.

But along the edge was a thin black thread woven into the fabric.

The same kind I had seen around the guard's sword.

My mouth went dry.

“Why didn't you tell me about this before?”

“Because I didn't know what it meant.”

I looked at her.

“Do you know now?”

“No.”

Her honesty somehow frightened me more than an answer would have.

Adrian entered a few minutes later.

Evelina showed him the cloth.

He examined it carefully without saying anything.

I watched his expression.

“You recognize it?”

“No.”

“But you've seen the royal crest before.”

“Yes.”

He turned the fabric over.

There was no crest this time. Only the silver stitching and the black thread.

“This could belong to anyone,” he said.

“But you saw the guard.”

“I saw him.”

“And?”

Adrian looked at me.

“And I don't like that you noticed him before anyone else did.”

“That isn't my fault.”

“I know.”

He folded the cloth.

“I'll investigate.”

“With whom?”

“Trusted guards.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“You have trusted guards?”

His gaze met mine.

“I don't.”

The answer surprised me.

Adrian looked toward the door.

“I have guards whose loyalty has been tested. That's different.”

Evelina remained silent.

I understood why.

The palace wasn't simply a place filled with danger.

It was a place filled with people.

And people could hide things much better than shadows could.

Adrian handed the cloth back to Evelina.

“Keep this hidden.”

“Where?”

“Somewhere no one would think to search.”

She nodded.

After she left, I remained with Adrian.

“Do you think the guard is connected to the Order?”

“I don't know.”

“Do you think he was watching me?”

“I think someone was.”

“That isn't the same answer.”

“No.”

He walked toward the window.

I followed.

“The eastern corridor leads toward the older section of the palace,” he said.

“Where the hidden passages are?”

“Yes.”

I remembered Evelina's warning.

“Do you think there are still passages nobody knows about?”

“Probably.”

“That isn't reassuring.”

“It wasn't supposed to be.”

I sighed.

Adrian glanced at me.

“You're disappointed again.”

“I think you enjoy being difficult.”

“I think you're beginning to understand me.”

I smiled faintly.

Then the smile faded.

“What if someone is trying to reach me through those passages?”

“Then they won't get close.”

“You can't promise that.”

“No.”

He looked at me.

“But I can promise I'll do everything I can to stop them.”

Something about the way he said it made my chest feel strangely warm.

I didn't know what to say, so I looked away.

Later that afternoon, I returned to the library.

I needed something that would quiet my thoughts.

Victoria's journals had become that place for me.

I opened the one I had been reading earlier and carefully turned the pages.

Most of the entries were ordinary.

That was what I loved about them.

My mother had written about meals, weather, books, arguments, and little things Seraphina had done as a child. She had complained about my impatience. She had laughed about my habit of hiding books beneath my pillow.

These details made Victoria feel real.

Not a mysterious woman connected to the Order.

Not an investigator.

Not the mother whose secrets seemed to be woven through my entire life.

Just my mother.

I continued reading.

Then I reached a page I hadn't noticed before.

The handwriting became more serious.

There are rooms in the old palace that should remain closed.

I read the sentence twice.

Below it, she had written:

Not because they contain dangerous objects, but because some doors are easier to open than they are to close.

I slowly turned the page.

Richard believes I am becoming too suspicious. Perhaps he is right. But I have learned that secrets do not disappear simply because people stop speaking about them. Sometimes they wait.

I leaned back.

For a moment, I simply stared at the page.

My mother had written those words years ago.

Yet they felt as though they had been written for me.

I ran my finger lightly over the paper.

There was something strange about the corner of the page.

A faint crescent shape had been drawn there.

It was so light that I almost missed it.

I tilted the journal toward the window.

The mark became clearer.

A crescent.

Not quite the same as the Order's symbol.

Different enough to make me wonder whether Victoria had been trying to distinguish it from them.

I closed my eyes.

A memory surfaced.

Not a complete one.

Just a feeling.

My mother's voice.

A room.

A door.

Her hand resting against my shoulder.

Don't go there alone.

I opened my eyes.

The library was still around me.

Books lined the walls. Dust floated through the sunlight. Somewhere outside, servants were moving through the corridor.

Everything looked peaceful.

But I no longer trusted peaceful places.

I closed the journal and held it against my chest.

For the first time, I understood something about my mother's warnings.

She hadn't been afraid only of what was inside those rooms.

She had been afraid of what opening them might reveal.

And perhaps that was why I was being pulled toward them now.

Not because I wanted another mystery.

Not because I was searching for danger.

Because the past had begun following me.

I returned the journal to its place and stood.

Before leaving the library, I looked once more toward the eastern corridor.

It was empty.

No guard.

No footsteps.

Nothing.

Still, I remembered the scar.

The sword.

The black thread.

And the way the man had looked at me as though he already knew who I was.

I didn't know what he wanted.

I didn't know who he served.

But I knew one thing.

The secrets surrounding my childhood had not been buried.

They had been waiting.

And somehow, they had been waiting for me.