Chapter 13

I was still trying to understand what had just happened when the prince left the bathing room.One moment, I had been struggling to stay on my feet, and the next, I was in his arms. I could still feel the firm grip he had on my waist when he caught me, and I hated that my body had chosen that moment to betray me.

I hated being a fucking Damsel in distress .

“Come on,” Claudia snapped, pulling me out of my thoughts. “You heard the prince. You’re getting fed.”

I didn’t argue. I was too hungry to waste energy fighting with her. But I hated feeling like an actual pet.

Anaya followed us out of the bathing room, carrying the towels the maidens had used. She gave me a sympathetic look as we walked through the corridor, but she didn’t speak. I wondered whether she was afraid of Claudia or simply knew better than to get involved in other people’s problems.

The castle was quieter at this hour. Most of the doors we passed were closed, and the only sounds came from our footsteps and the occasional guard stationed along the walls. The lamps cast long shadows across the stone floor, making the corridors seem even colder than they were during the day.

We reached a set of double doors near the servants’ quarters. Claudia pushed one open and led me into a small kitchen where two servants were cleaning the counters.

A pot sat over a low fire, and the smell of cooked meat made my stomach twist painfully.

I stopped walking.

“When was the last time you ate?” one of the servants asked, looking at me.

“Yesterday morning,” I answered.

Her expression changed. She glanced at Claudia, who immediately looked away.

“The prince ordered her to be fed,” Claudia said sharply. “So feed her and stop staring.”

The older servant didn’t seem impressed by her attitude. She took a bowl from the counter, filled it with stew, and placed a piece of bread beside it. Then she motioned for me to sit at a small wooden table near the wall.

I didn’t need to be told twice.

The first spoonful was so good that I almost closed my eyes. I ate quickly, barely giving myself time to chew properly. The stew was warm, with chunks of meat and vegetables that tasted better than anything I could remember eating recently.

I slowed down when the older woman placed a cup of water beside me.

“Careful,” she said. “You’ll make yourself sick if you eat too quickly.”

I forced myself to take smaller bites, although every part of me wanted to finish the entire bowl at once.

Claudia stood by the doorway with her arms crossed.

“Enjoy it while you can,” she muttered. “Being fed once doesn’t make you special.”

I ignored her.When I had finished, the servant offered me another piece of bread. I accepted it gratefully, then drank the rest of my water.

For the first time since arriving at the castle, I felt a little less like I was going to collapse.

It wasn’t much, but I would take whatever I could get.Claudia led me out of the kitchen. I expected her to take me back to the dungeon, and I was already preparing myself for another night on the cold floor.

Instead, we met a guard waiting near the staircase.

“Veronica Night?” he asked.

I stopped.“Yes?”

“You’re coming with me.”

Claudia looked at him. “Where are you taking her?”

“The prince’s personal quarters.”

For a moment, nobody moved.

Then Claudia let out a short, disbelieving laugh.

“His personal quarters?”

“That’s what I said.”

I looked between them, waiting for someone to explain what was happening.

“Why?” I asked.

The guard turned his attention to me. “You’ll find out when we get there.”

That wasn’t an answer, but I had already learned that questions rarely got me anywhere in this castle.

Claudia stepped aside, although her expression had darkened.

“Try not to get yourself killed,” she said. “It would be a shame after the prince went to such trouble to keep you alive.”

I couldn’t tell whether she was warning me or hoping I would die.

I followed the guard.

We climbed a wide staircase and passed through a corridor I had never seen before. The walls were darker here, decorated with old paintings of men and women dressed in clothes that looked as though they belonged to another century. Some of the faces had faded with time, but their eyes remained strangely clear.

I glanced at one painting as we passed.

It showed a man standing in front of a battlefield, dressed in black armour with a sword in his hand. His face was stern, his hair long, and his eyes a pale gold.

I slowed down.

The man looked remarkably like Vladimir.

Not exactly, but enough to make me wonder.

“Keep moving,” the guard ordered.

I hurried after him.

We stopped in front of a pair of tall wooden doors. Intricate carvings covered their surfaces, forming patterns of twisting branches, thorns, and creatures I couldn’t identify. The guard knocked twice before opening them.

“Your new assignment,” he said.

I stepped inside.

For a moment, I forgot to move.

The room was enormous, with high ceilings supported by dark wooden beams. Heavy black curtains covered the tall windows, allowing only thin strips of moonlight to enter. Several candles burned on iron stands, their flames casting a soft glow over the furniture and stone walls.

Everything was dark, but nothing looked neglected.

A large bed stood against the far wall, framed by carved wooden posts and thick curtains. Beside it sat a small table holding a silver goblet and an antique clock. A fireplace occupied one side of the room, although it wasn’t burning. Above it hung another painting, this one showing a man seated on a black horse.

There was something unsettling about the room. It didn’t feel like a place someone had decorated recently. It felt as though it had existed for generations, with each object carefully preserved instead of replaced.

I had barely taken it all in when I noticed the books.

There were hundreds of them.

Tall shelves covered one entire wall, reaching almost to the ceiling. More books lay stacked on a table near the fireplace, while several others rested beside a reading chair positioned close to the window.

I had never seen so many books in one place.

Some were thick and bound in dark leather. Others had faded covers, cracked spines, and pages that looked yellow enough to crumble if someone handled them carelessly. A few were secured with metal clasps, and several had strange symbols stamped into their covers.

I approached the nearest shelf before remembering where I was.

This was Vladimir’s room.

I shouldn’t be wandering around touching his belongings.

I stepped back.

“You’re to clean the prince’s quarters,” the guard explained. “His study is through that door. You’ll dust the shelves, clean the furniture, and make sure everything is in order. You are not to remove anything from this room, and you are not to enter any locked rooms.”

I nodded.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

He studied me for a moment before continuing.

“You will report here every morning. When the prince is present, you will wait for instructions. You will not disturb him while he is reading or working unless he addresses you first.”

Reading or working.

I glanced at the shelves again.

For some reason, it was difficult to imagine Vladimir sitting quietly with a book while the rest of the castle trembled at the thought of displeasing him.

Then again, I had only seen him during the hunting games and the few encounters that followed. Perhaps there were parts of him that nobody outside these rooms ever witnessed.

The guard pointed toward a cupboard near the door. “Your cleaning supplies are in there. Begin with the study. The prince expects his rooms to be kept in order.”

With that, he left.

I stood alone in the enormous room, listening to the sound of the doors closing behind him.

For the first time since being brought to the castle, I wasn’t surrounded by people watching my every move.

It should have been a relief.

Instead, I felt more nervous.

I opened the cupboard and found cloths, a small brush, a bucket, and several bottles of cleaning solution. I carried them into the study.

If the bedroom had impressed me, the study left me speechless.

It was filled with books.

The walls were lined with shelves, and a large desk stood in the centre of the room. Its surface was covered with papers, ink bottles, and several books opened to different pages. A globe sat near one corner, its surface marked with borders that didn’t match any map I had ever seen.

Beside it lay a collection of old coins and a tarnished silver object shaped like a small bird. I couldn’t tell whether it was meant to be a decoration or something with a practical purpose.

There were also maps.

Some were framed and hung on the walls. Others had been rolled up and placed inside a wooden stand. One large map lay spread across a table, showing coastlines, forests, and cities marked with unfamiliar names.

I leaned closer.

The paper was worn at the edges, and several places had been crossed out in dark ink. Some of the names looked as though they had been written by hand centuries ago.

How old was this place?

And how long had Vladimir been living here?

I shook my head and returned to work.

Those questions weren’t going to help me escape.

I started with the desk, carefully dusting around the books and papers without moving anything. Then I worked my way along the shelves, using a small brush to clean the edges and corners.

It took longer than I expected.

There were books on nearly every subject I could imagine, although many of the titles were written in languages I didn’t recognise. I found books about medicine, astronomy, warfare, plants, and history. Some were so old that their titles had almost disappeared.

Vladimir had collected all of these over the years.

I wondered whether he had actually read them.

Then I noticed a book lying open on a small table beside the reading chair.

Unlike the others, it had no title on its cover. Its pages were covered in handwriting, the ink faded to a brownish colour. Several lines had been underlined, and small notes filled the margins.

I glanced at the page.

I couldn’t understand most of it, but a few words were written in a language close enough to one I had seen before to look familiar.

I leaned forward to examine the handwriting.

“Can you read it?”

I nearly dropped the cloth.

I spun around.

Vladimir stood in the doorway