The palace walls seemed to lean closer as Sophie returned to her chambers, her steps hurried and heart still thundering from the encounter with Marta. The corridors glimmered faintly in the torchlight, but to Sophie, every shadow felt sharper, every guard's gaze heavier.
She wanted nothing more than to collapse into her bed and bury herself beneath the velvet sheets, but the moment she entered the room, she knew sleep would be impossible.
Marta's trembling voice echoed in her skull.
"The one holding her arm… was Lord Draven."
The words were a blade she couldn't set down. She paced the chamber restlessly, ignoring the way the two guards stationed outside her door shifted at the sound of her movements. She was never truly alone anymore—not since Alexander had decided she was too much of a risk to let out of his sight.
And that made the choice gnawing at her even harder.
She could tell Alexander what she had learned. If he truly hadn't known, if Draven had been hiding treachery under his nose all these years, then maybe Sophie could help open his eyes. She could become more than a ghost of Seraphina—she could be someone he trusted.
But what if he did know?
What if Marta was right—what if Alexander had chosen silence all those years ago, burying his pain beneath coldness and steel? To speak now might expose Sophie, might reveal how deeply she and Eira were digging into forbidden truths. And if Alexander had protected Draven once, there was no guarantee he wouldn't protect him again.
Sophie stopped pacing, pressing both hands against the window ledge. Outside, the moon hung low, casting silver light across the palace gardens. The same gardens where Marta had whispered her truth. The same gardens where Sophie had felt—for the first time—that she was no longer stumbling in the dark.
Yet knowledge, she realized, was a double-edged gift.
Eira slipped into the chamber quietly, closing the door behind her. She had a knack for moving as if the guards weren't there at all, as if the palace itself bent to let her pass. She crossed the room, her eyes weary but determined.
"You're still thinking about it," she said softly.
"How could I not?" Sophie's voice cracked with the weight of it. "If what Marta said is true, then Draven is the reason Seraphina is gone. He's been beside Alexander this whole time. Advising him. Guiding him. Manipulating him. How can I stay silent?"
Eira's face was pale, but her tone was practical. "And if you tell him? If he knows already, you risk everything. You've seen how he looks at you, Sophie—half like you're salvation, half like you're a threat. Push too far, and he'll decide you're the latter."
Sophie sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers twisting in her skirts. "I don't know if I can live with that kind of silence."
Eira hesitated before sitting beside her. "Sometimes silence keeps you alive long enough to speak when it matters. You don't have to decide tonight. But whatever you do… choose carefully. Words can be sharper than blades in this palace."
Sophie wanted to argue, to insist that the truth mattered more than her own safety—but the truth of her situation hung too heavy. She was already caught between worlds, carrying the face of a queen she wasn't, wrapped in a prophecy she didn't understand. One wrong step could shatter whatever fragile place she held here.
Her thoughts betrayed her, circling back to Alexander. His piercing eyes, the way his voice could cut through a room, the way he seemed to guard every part of himself. Had he always known about Draven? Was that why his loneliness hung around him like a cloak—because betrayal had already carved him hollow?
If she told him and he didn't know, perhaps he would finally let her in. Perhaps the wall between them might crack. But if she told him and he had chosen silence, then she would become a danger to him—an intruder with too much knowledge.
The choice twisted her insides until she buried her face in her hands. "I don't know what to do, Eira."
Eira touched her shoulder gently. "Then for now, do nothing. Sometimes watching tells us more than speaking ever could. If you watch closely, the truth will reveal itself."
Sophie lifted her head, the words settling into her like a seed. Watching. Waiting. It wasn't surrender—it was survival. And maybe, just maybe, it would buy her enough time to see Alexander clearly.
But that didn't make the secret any lighter.
Later, when Eira had gone and the chamber was silent again, Sophie lay awake staring at the canopy above her bed. She could hear the faint shuffle of guards outside her door, the muffled hush of night beyond the palace walls.
Marta's revelation lay heavy on her chest.
Lord Draven had led Seraphina away.
If Sophie chose silence, she carried that weight alone. If she chose to speak, she risked everything.
Her thoughts lingered on Alexander until sleep finally stole her away. Not the king draped in power and iron, but the man beneath—lonely, haunted, unknowable. She wondered which would be worse: to discover that he was blind to the treachery around him… or to learn that he had seen it, and turned away.
Either truth, she knew, could break her.