There was a sharp, urgent knock on Anastasia's door.
"Who could it be at this hour?" Hannah asked, confusion clouding her features. She opened the door to find Charles and Rose standing there, their faces etched with worry.
"Your highness, good evening," Hannah greeted them with a curtsy.
"Where is Guinevere?" Charles asked, cutting straight to the point.
"She went to the—"
Anastasia walked into the conversation, having overheard the commotion.
"Is everything alright?" Her gaze shifted from Hannah to the unexpected visitors.
"Your highnesses, what brings you here?"
"Is Adeline in here?" Rose asked, her voice strained.
"No. Isn't she supposed to be in her room?" Anastasia asked, genuinely puzzled.
"We've searched everywhere, but she's nowhere to be found," Charles said, his usual calm demeanor shattered by panic.
"There's a search party in the castle," Rose added, wringing her hands.
"Give me a minute." Anastasia quickly put on her shoes and ran to the door.
"Let's go find our baby girl."
The trio rushed outside, where they found everyone, including the Emperor Azriel, shouting for Adeline to come out.
"Adeline!" Anastasia yelled, but silence greeted her. Rose began to sob, saying crazy things out loud like, "If you come out, I'll buy you that dessert you like."
"Why are you yelling that?" Luna asked, ever the opportunist, making her voice loud enough for others to hear.
"Because she often hides like this; if you tell her something she finds fascinating, then she'll come out of hiding," Rose explained.
"I'll buy you the horse I promised you," Charles added to the chorus of promises.
Everyone said a lot of things, but Anastasia felt awful.
If she had only held Adeline and told her the truth earlier, maybe the girl wouldn't have run away.
"You seem awfully quiet... Don't you care about Adeline?" Luna pressed, trying to stir up a scene.
"This is all your fault! If you hadn't manipulated her, she wouldn't have run away!"
Anastasia knew making a scene would only make the matter worse. Ignoring Luna, she took a lamp and slowly walked to the edge of a remote cliff garden where no one would hear her private plea.
"Adeline... I'm sorry. I can never hate you. I was shocked that you didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth, and for that moment, I thought you must have told everyone about our promise."
Anastasia paused, knowing she had to continue.
"I should... I should have pulled you in for a hug. I should have assured you that everything would be fine. I should have looked at you. Please don't punish everyone because of my mistake."
Three hours passed in a blur; it was three in the morning. Adeline still hadn't come out. Rose's eyes were swollen from crying.
Azriel was growing frustrated by the minute, a dark, possessive anger brewing beneath his stoic surface.
"I'm sorry... This is all my fault..." Anastasia said to Rose, who trembled in Charles' embrace.
Anastasia slowly walked back to the edge of the cliff in a daze, the weight of her dangerous life pushing her over the edge of reason.
"Adeline, I understand you hate me right now. So to prove how sorry I am... I'll..."
Anastasia paused, unable to finish her sentence.
She looked around at everyone, who were too distracted to pay attention to her.
"Goodbye, Adeline," Anastasia said. She leaned back and fell backwards off the cliff edge.
"Guinevere!" Adeline appeared on the cliff edge just in time.
Anastasia saw Adeline, a flash of relief blooming in her chest, but then she closed her eyes, accepting peace, accepting death, a final escape from the twin destinies of ruin that awaited her.
She braced herself for death, but instead, she fell on something hard.
She could still hear her own breathing and a loud heartbeat against her ears.
She looked up to see Azriel holding her firmly, his face a mask of furious concern.
She gazed into his pale eyes that looked like diamonds under the moonlight.
"Your grace," Anastasia whispered.
"Have you lost your damn mind? Why would you do something so reckless?" Azriel asked, anger warring with a potent hint of concern.
"I'm sorry, I felt dizzy," Anastasia lied. Of course she had to lie; he looked like he would lock her in the dungeon.
Anastasia waited for Azriel to put her down, but she didn't wait long enough before her instincts took over. She instinctively sniffed his neck.
"Your cologne is intoxicating, Your Grace," Anastasia said, the proximity making Azriel's breath hitch.
A powerful, magnetic pull resonated between them. He wasn't wearing cologne.
"What does it smell like?" Azriel asked in curiosity, his dark eyes searching hers.
"Like alcohol, ginger, honey, and a hint of..." Anastasia trailed off as she sniffed him again, leaning closer.
"Expensive wine," Anastasia finished with a smile, feeling drunk on his presence.
How can she smell my scent? Azriel wondered, stunned. Only those who are destined for each other can smell their partner's true scent. But that is just a myth.
Anastasia had no idea what was happening to her mind; she felt utterly drunk. Azriel, in turn, inhaled her scent—sweet and dangerous—and noticed how familiar it was, the phantom scent of the ghost girl who was currently in his arms.
"Let's get you to your room," Azriel said calmly, the urge to possess her an all-consuming fire.
"I want to smell you... I want to sleep with you tonight," Anastasia said, her eyes now closed in sleepy abandon.
Azriel stared at Anastasia. Great, she doesn't know what she's saying.
He took her up the cliff and met everyone rushing towards him. "Is she alright?" Adeline asked.
"Yes... turns out she was exhausted from being up all night that she fainted," Azriel said smoothly.
Adeline let out a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry, Guinevere."
"Everyone return to your rooms; it's been a stressful night. Competitions are canceled in the morning; you all can use it to sleep and regain your strength," Azriel commanded, and the people left quietly.
Zain approached Azriel. "Let me take her to her room."
"No, you may leave," Azriel said coldly.
Zain eventually left. Rose asked a maid to take Adeline to her room while she discussed the situation with her brothers.
"She isn't letting go," Azriel said.
"What?" Charles asked in surprise as Azriel tried to break Anastasia's grip, but she held tight, murmuring, "I want to smell your scent a little bit longer."
"Your scent?" Rose asked, utterly confused.
"For some reason, she can smell my scent... She seems to like it," Azriel admitted.
"Does this mean the myth is true?" Charles asked.
"You've found your soulmate, bro," Rose said, a wicked glint in her eyes.
"That's not possible... Anastasia is the one my soul accepted," Azriel argued, the dark complexity of the situation deepening.
"Why did you jump off the cliff with her?" Rose asked curiously.
"I don't know. It felt like my mind moved before my body could react," Azriel confessed, the possessive bond already forming its iron grip.
"How could you have two soulmates? Is that even possible?" Rose asked.
"I don't know... I need to take her to her room," Azriel said.
"Unfortunately, now that she can smell your scent, it means your body wants her to feel protected, perhaps from the ordeal tonight. If you leave her alone, you would suffer terribly tonight. So just sleep on the same bed with her," Charles advised.
"What?" Azriel said in surprise.
"It's just for one night... We would summon Luke first in the morning," Rose assured him.
Azriel took Anastasia to his private room, placing her gently on the massive bed.
He sat by the edge, giving her space; this was the first time he'd ever brought a lady to his room.
Anastasia stood up abruptly, sniffing the air, her sleepy eyes searching for something.
She reached the other end of the bed, leaning forward, about to fall off. Azriel caught her just in time.
"What are you doing?" Azriel asked.
"There you are," Anastasia said with a smile. Azriel noticed her eyes were still asleep. He sighed in exhaustion.
"Come to bed," Anastasia demanded, pulling at him. Azriel didn't know why, but his body obediently got into the bed.
Anastasia wrapped her hands around Azriel and sniffed him one last time before she drifted off to sleep in the arms of the man who hunted her very existence.
The next morning, Azriel left the bed, meeting his siblings and the royal wizard, Luke, in his private library.
"Your Majesty, Charles has briefed me on the issue," Luke said.
"Do you have an answer?" Rose asked impatiently.
"Having two soulmates is impossible... It's either one is an illusion and one is real," Luke concluded.
"Are you saying that this Anastasia is just an illusion?" Charles asked.
"Most likely," Luke replied.
"It's not a illusion," Azriel said, the intoxicating scent of the real girl still clinging to his clothes and his skin, the truth a dangerous secret he hugged close to his heart.
"It's not an illusion, I heard her voice... She felt real," Azriel insisted, running a hand through his hair as he paced the library floor.
"Maybe you just felt sorry for her that day because of her sad stories," Luke, the royal wizard, countered dismissively.
"That girl in my room can't be the one from the prophecy," Azriel said, desperate to cling to the ghost he hunted rather than the warm flesh-and-blood woman who captivated him.
"It's time you accept the truth, Your Majesty; no woman has ever felt your scent. Don't be misguided by your mind," Luke said, certain of his diagnosis.
"How can he be certain she's the right one?" Rose asked, her arms crossed.
"Judging from what happened last night, their souls are now intertwined," Luke stated with authority.
"They shall feel each other's pain, happiness, and every emotion."
Azriel ran his hand through his hair again. After minutes of discussing the situation, he suddenly felt a sharp sting in his eyes.
He blinked twice, and something warm dripped down his cheek. He touched it and noticed it was blood.
"Azriel, are you alright?" Rose asked in a panic.
"Why is he crying blood, Luke?" Charles yelled, rushing to his brother's side.
"I think there's something wrong with the girl," Luke said, his eyes wide with surprise. The soul bond had been forged, and the pain was now shared.
Meanwhile, Anastasia slowly opened her eyes.
"Lord have mercy, my head is killing me," she muttered, massaging her temples.
She looked at the luxurious covers over her and quickly realized this wasn't her bedroom. She sat up straight, scanning the opulent room.
"Where am I?" Anastasia asked herself.
A maid entered the room, a bright smile on her face.
"Good morning, My Lady; you're awake."
"Where am I?" Anastasia asked again, more urgently this time.
"You're in His Majesty's room," the maid replied.
"I'm in the room of Prince Charles?" Anastasia asked, confused.
"No, the Emperor's room." Anastasia felt her throat dry up. Why was she here? She only remembered falling off the cliff; the rest of her memories were foggy, filled with an intoxicating scent she couldn't place.
She jumped off the bed in a hurry, the room spinning around her. The maid rushed to her.
"You need to rest in the bed. His Majesty asked you to stay put."
"I need to get something from my room; I'll be back," was all Anastasia could say, desperate to escape the room of the dangerous Emperor.
"I'll ask someone to get it for you," the maid said.
"I just want fresh air... I'm not a prisoner after all," Anastasia insisted.
"Alright... My Lady," the maid finally gave in.
With her hands on the wall for support, Anastasia slowly walked to her room. Her vision blurred with each step.
She paused to catch her breath, resting her hand on her pounding head.
Hannah spotted Anastasia struggling to walk and ran to her, helping her the rest of the way into their room.
Hannah gently sat Anastasia on the bed. "What happened? Did the Emperor take advantage of you?"
"I don't think so... I don't remember anything at all," Anastasia said, the memory of her bold request to sleep with him mercifully absent.
"I've prepared your bath," Hannah said.
Anastasia took her bath in a daze, got dressed, and brushed her hair.
"The Emperor called off class for today," Hannah said.
"I wonder why," she muttered, staring at herself in the mirror, her head still throbbing and her vision blurry.
Hannah picked up a basket to leave. "Where are you going?" Anastasia asked.
"I need to get the laundry," Hannah said.
"I want to join you," Anastasia said.
"Are... Are you sure?"
"Yes... I feel suffocated right now," Anastasia said.
Hannah agreed, and took Anastasia with her to gather the laundry.
Anastasia quietly watched the other maids moving around.
She never knew there was another life behind the competition, a vibrant world of maids, cooks, knights, and soldiers just existing without fighting for attention.
She watched Hannah move effortlessly, accustomed to this life, while Anastasia was forced to be someone she wasn't—Guinevere, the potential bride, the girl without a past.
Anastasia felt her chest tighten, nausea rising within her. Her head throbbed violently.
Something warm dripped from her nose. She gently cleaned it with her fingers; she saw blood.
"Hannah," Anastasia said in a whisper as she collapsed.
Hannah left the basket, running to Anastasia, calling her name, shaking her, but nothing happened.
Azriel appeared from nowhere, his own face stained with blood-tears, a direct reflection of her pain.
He saw her lying on the floor, lifeless, with blood on her nose. Azriel cursed internally, scooping her up into his arms.
Hannah could only follow Azriel from behind, pausing by the door when Azriel asked her to wait in her room while the wizard examined the woman his soul was tragically, darkly bound to.