Chapter Six

Anna POV

I don't remember how long I sat there on the floor with her. My heart pounded so hard I could barely breathe. The blood had gone cold beneath my knees before I finally made myself move — before I finally let go of my mother's hand and understood that holding on wouldn't bring her back.

It was already dark and quiet outside when I moved her. I couldn't risk anyone in the village seeing — questions I had no strength to answer, eyes that might carry word back to whoever had sent those men. So I buried her myself, alone, beneath the old baobab tree at the edge of the village — the same tree she used to sit under when she thought I wasn't watching, staring toward the road that led to the palace like it might swallow her whole one day.

It finally had.

I looked back at the grave, at the dirt that hadn't even settled, and let the tears fall freely down my cheeks. I would never see her again.

"Sleep well, Mummy," I whispered into the dark. "I'll finish what you started."                                                   At Home, Later

The house still smelled like her.

I sat on the floor of her room — my room too, now, and forever, since there was no one left to share it with — and set the wooden box in front of me for the first time since I'd pulled it from beneath the bed.

My hands hovered over the lid.

It holds the proof. Everything that can bring down her secret.

I should have opened it right then. I told myself that later, and I would go on telling myself that for a long time. But in that moment, something in me flinched away from it — some instinct that said not yet, not like this, not with her blood still under your fingernails — and instead of lifting the lid, I wrapped the box in an old cloth and tucked it deep into the bottom of my travel bag, beneath the two dresses and the small purse of coins that were now, apparently, everything I owned in the world.

There would be time for the truth. Tonight, I needed to survive being alone.

It was only as I was folding the second dress that my fingers brushed the back of my neck — an old, unconscious habit — and I stopped.

There's a tattoo. At the back of your neck. Half of a heart, drawn in black.

I hadn't thought to look. I hadn't thought of much at all beyond breathing.

I found the small hand mirror Mother kept on the shelf, angled it as best I could, and twisted around until I caught sight of it — small, dark, half-hidden beneath my hairline. A half-heart, exactly as she'd said, the edges too clean and deliberate to be a birthmark.

It will tell you whose daughter you are.

Whose daughter. Not just Adele's.

The words unsettled something in me I didn't have the strength to examine yet. I let my hair fall back over it and set the mirror down with hands that weren't quite steady.

Whoever I was, whatever that mark meant, it would have to wait its turn behind everything else waiting for me. Behind the assassins who had come for a box and left with my mother's life instead.           THE FOLLOWING MORNING                                     The moment I heard the first rooster's crow, I picked up the small travel bag I'd already prepared and headed out, before any villager could notice what had happened overnight.

The line for the maid selection stretched further than I'd expected — dozens of girls from villages up and down the region, all dressed in whatever finest clothes they owned, all wearing the same mixture of hope and terror on their faces.

I wore neither. I had left both of those behind at the foot of a baobab tree.

"Name?" the palace official asked without looking up, his quill already poised over the ledger.

"Anna," I said. "Anna Joel."

He glanced up then — briefly, the way a man might glance at any of the dozens of girls he'd process that day — and I made myself hold perfectly still under it, my travel bag clutched against my side with the wooden box hidden deep inside.

"Village of origin?"

I gave it.

"Any family within the palace, past or present?"

Yes, I thought. My mother served in Queen Camille's own quarters, and this palace killed her for it.

"No," I said. "None."

He made his mark in the ledger and waved me forward, toward the gates and the courtyard beyond, where the rest of the hopeful, unknowing girls were already gathering.

I looked up at the palace walls — impossibly tall, pale stone catching the early light — and felt the half-heart at the back of my neck prickle, as if it, too, understood that we were about to walk through them.

I'm coming, Mother, I thought. And I won't stop until I have every answer this palace owes you.

I stepped through the gates.

Pavan POV

I was in the royal library, sitting quietly and reading, when Demille entered.

"My prince," he called out, bowing his head slightly.

I didn't look up from the book.

"What is it?"

"The royal maid selection has begun, and your presence is needed there."

I turned to another page.

"I'm not interested. Queen Camille and the head of the maids can handle it," I replied, nonchalant.

Demille chuckled.

"Some new maids will be appointed to your quarters. You'll be able to choose the ones you'd like to work with — and the ones you don't."

He paused for a moment before continuing.

"And the King has ordered everyone to be present at the maid selection, so the royal family has no room to complain about the maids afterward. Especially you."

He said the last part with a smile on his face and a mocking tone.

I finally looked up at him.

He usually behaved like that when it was only the two of us. We'd known each other since we were children, and he knew my do's and don'ts better than anyone. He was also the only person who could speak to me without being afraid to.

"You seem to be enjoying this," I said, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Of course, my prince," he replied with a grin. "It isn't every day I get the chance to drag you somewhere you don't want to go."

I rolled my eyes.

"Okay."

I let out a soft sigh, closed the book, and returned it to the shelf.

"Let's go, before you say anything else."

Demille laughed as we headed out of the library.

We had barely gone far when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

"Brother!"

I stopped and looked back to see Elle approaching, with Queme and several maids trailing behind her.

Elle wore a bright smile.

"Oh, don't tell me you're actually going to the new maid selection ceremony," she said happily. "I thought you'd never come."

I didn't respond.

I was about to turn and keep walking when Queme's voice reached me.

"Hello, Pavan," she greeted, smiling.

I looked at her.

"I thought you'd left. What are you still doing at the palace?"

"I..." Queme started.

"Oh, she'll be leaving tomorrow," Elle cut in, smiling. "I decided to spend some time with her before she goes. That's why she's still here."

I studied the two of them a moment without saying anything.

There was something about the way Elle had answered for Queme that caught my attention — but I decided not to question it.

"Let's go," Demille said beside me.

I nodded and turned away, making my way toward the field where the ceremony was being held.

By the time Demille and I arrived, the field was already crowded.

We walked toward the decorated chairs prepared for the royal family and took our seats. A few moments later, Elle and Queme arrived with the maids and sat down as well.

The ceremony began almost immediately after we'd settled in.

The maid candidates stood lined up in five rows, hands folded in front of them, backs straight. Some looked nervous. Others looked excited. A few could barely hide the fear on their faces.

I leaned back in my chair, watching in silence.

Then the guards began searching their bags, one after another.

"Why are they searching their belongings?" I asked quietly.

Demille leaned closer. "The King ordered it. Every candidate is being checked before she enters the palace."

I nodded. It made sense. The palace was not a place where anyone could simply walk in carrying whatever they pleased.

I kept watching as the guards moved from one girl to the next.

Then one of them stopped.

"Wait."

The entire line went silent.

The guard had stopped in front of a young girl clutching a small travel bag tightly against her side.

"Open the bag," he ordered.

The girl froze.

My eyes narrowed slightly.

There was something about her reaction that immediately caught my attention.