Chapter Eight: Behind the Mask

The days blurred together for servants in the castle. There were no clocks, no structured shifts—only rooms to scrub, sheets to fold, and footsteps to memorize. Eden had learned quickly to keep her pace steady, her eyes low, and her mouth mostly shut.

Annie, for her part, was efficient and quiet. She didn’t ask questions Eden couldn’t answer, and Eden didn’t press for details Annie wouldn’t give. They worked side by side in the early hours, rotating bedding through sleeping quarters, polishing brass door fixtures, hauling buckets from one wing to another.

And then, on the third day, Annie paused at the stairwell that led underground.

Eden already knew what it meant.

Her breath caught as she tucked her hair under the linen headwrap, fingers fumbling more than usual. Only a single strand slipped loose, hanging just above her brow. It refused to stay put, no matter how tightly she tied the cloth.

She followed Annie without a word, their footsteps echoing against the stone stairwell as they descended deeper. Each step felt heavier, like it knew where they were going. Eden's heart beat faster—not just from nerves, but from the weight of everything she had to carry into that cell.

She was about to see her brother.

And she had to lie to him.

The air grew colder the farther they went, the scent of damp stone and rust thick in her nose. A single guard waited outside the cell, leaning lazily against the wall, though his hand rested firmly on the hilt of his blade.

Annie gave a short nod. He stepped aside.

The cell door creaked open.

Eden stepped in just behind Annie.

Erec sat in the far corner, back to the wall, knees up, elbows resting on them, head hung low. He didn’t even look up. His breath rose in steady intervals, the kind of quiet endurance that came from someone who’d been trapped long enough to stop fighting the space.

“They could’ve stuffed these pillows with rocks and I wouldn’t have noticed the difference,” he muttered.

Neither Eden nor Annie responded. They moved in unison—Annie toward the bed, Eden toward the pile of fresh linens. She kept her head down.

Erec’s voice came again. “What happened to the younger one?”

Annie didn’t answer.

The clang of chains slammed into the silence—sharp, sudden. Erec had jerked his shackles against the bars, the echo bouncing off the stone.

Both Eden and Annie flinched.

“I said, where is she?” Erec growled. “What did you do with her?”

Annie turned calmly. “She caught a fever. She’ll return when she’s well.”

Erec stared hard at her, trying to read beneath her words. Eden didn’t dare look up, her fingers tightening around the broom handle.

“It’s true,” she said softly, her voice steady but quiet. “I was brought in from the gardens to help Annie until she returns.”

Erec’s gaze shifted.

To Eden.

He didn’t react immediately, only tilted his head slightly—like trying to place a familiar song played in the wrong key. He looked at her longer now, squinting, like if he stared hard enough, something would fall into place.

Eden focused on the floor, sweeping in long, slow strokes.

The scratch marks caught her eye. Carved into the stone. Some old and dulled by time, others more erratic. But none of them looked fresh.

Like caged animals, she thought. She’d seen it before—at the edge of the merchant quarter, in iron pens, where wild things paced in tight circles, leaving claw marks in their wake.

“First time down here?” Erec asked.

His voice had changed. Gentler.

Eden froze.

When she looked up, he was watching her closely. And this time, she saw it.

The red curls—matted now with dirt and dried blood—fell across a face she hadn’t seen in over ten years. Scarred. Tired. Hardened by war and prison. But behind it all, beneath the wear and the weight, the boy she used to know was still there.

He saw her too.

Something shifted in his face. First confusion. Then recognition.

He moved, instinctively trying to lean forward, but the chains caught at his wrists and rattled loud enough for the guard to shift position.

Erec stopped.

He didn’t speak again.

His head dropped slightly, like he was bowing to the moment. His shoulders began to rise and fall faster, more raggedly. But he didn’t say her name. Didn’t dare risk it.

Eden swept slower.

She didn’t need him to say it.

She knew he knew.

And now, the real test began.