The walk to the King's study felt like a march to execution.
Roland moved ahead of me with military precision, his hand never far from his sword hilt. Every servant we passed seemed to watch me with knowing eyes. Every whispered conversation stopped as I approached, then resumed the moment I passed—fragments of words following in my wake like ghosts.
"—the Princess—"
"—Duke Blackthorn—"
"—something's happened—"
My mind raced through possibilities, each worse than the last. Had Cassia been exposed? Had she exposed me? Had someone seen us together last night, heard what we'd said to each other in the darkness of her chambers?
Or worse—had she made some move I didn't know about, some play in this deadly game that had just collapsed around us?
I thought of Lyra's words: Whatever game you're playing, it's more dangerous than you know.
But it wasn't a game. Games had rules. Games could be won.
This was survival. And I was losing track of how many people held my life in their hands.
Roland stopped outside the study door. "Lord Blackwater is alone," he said quietly. "The King is attending to other matters."
That made it worse somehow. Aldren was a buffer, a presence that kept Severin's predatory instincts in check. Without him...
"Thank you, Ser Roland."
He knocked once, then opened the door.
Severin Blackwater stood by the window, silhouetted against the morning light. He didn't turn as I entered, didn't acknowledge my presence for a long moment. Just stood there, watching something in the courtyard below.
"Your Highness," he said finally. "Thank you for coming so quickly."
"You said it was urgent. Something about Princess Cassia."
"Yes." He turned then, and I saw his face was carefully composed. Too carefully. "But first, I'm curious about your conversation with the woman. The one who claims to have known Prince Daemon so... intimately."
My stomach tightened. "I told you. I handled it."
"So you did." He moved to the desk, poured himself wine from a crystal decanter. Didn't offer me any. "But Ser Roland tells me you were in that room for nearly twenty minutes. That's quite a long time to simply threaten someone into silence."
I forced myself to meet his gaze. "She needed convincing."
"I'm sure she did." He sipped his wine, watching me over the rim. "Tell me—what did she reveal about Prince Daemon? What intimate details did she share that might... complicate your position?"
The question was a trap. If I knew too much, it meant Lyra had told me things that could expose me. If I knew too little, it meant I hadn't properly interrogated her.
"She described his habits," I said carefully. "His preferences. Things that matched what I already knew."
"Such as?"
"His temper. His... treatment of servants." I paused. "His scars."
Severin's eyes narrowed slightly. "Scars?"
"From his indulgences. She was quite specific about them."
"And you confirmed these details? Verified that her descriptions matched reality?"
"I didn't need to verify them. I know my own body."
The lie came easily now. Too easily.
Severin set down his wine glass. "The woman has been asking questions. About you. About the Prince's habits since his return from the border. She seems... confused. As if something doesn't match her memories."
My blood went cold. "What kind of questions?"
"Small things. The way you walk. The way you hold a sword. Your treatment of the palace staff." He paused. "She told one of the servants that you seem 'different.' That Prince Daemon never looked servants in the eye, never learned their names. But you do."
I forced myself to breathe normally. "People change. The border campaign was difficult. Perhaps it affected me more than I realized."
"Perhaps." Severin moved closer, and I caught the scent of wine and something sharper—suspicion, maybe. Or certainty. "Or perhaps the woman knows something we don't. Something that could be... useful."
"Useful how?"
"She knew Daemon intimately. She would know things about him that no one else knows. Private things. Personal things." His gaze was steady, calculating. "If she's willing to share those details, she could help you maintain your... performance. Fill in the gaps in your knowledge."
The suggestion made my skin crawl. "You want me to spend more time with her."
"I want you to ensure her loyalty. By whatever means necessary." He smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "Pillow talk can be very effective, Your Highness. And you've already demonstrated a talent for seduction."
The crude implication hung in the air between us. I wanted to refuse, to tell him exactly what I thought of his suggestion. But I couldn't. Not without raising more suspicion.
"I'll do what's necessary," I said.
"Good." He returned to the desk, picked up a piece of parchment. "Now. About Princess Cassia."
My chest tightened. "What about her?"
"She went to Duke Aldric Blackthorn's estate this morning."
The world seemed to tilt. "What?"
"She requested a private audience under the guise of diplomatic courtesy. Visiting a major noble house, paying her respects." He set down the parchment. "She was there for two hours. No one knows what was discussed."
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Cassia had gone to see the man trying to destroy me. The man who had evidence, who had witnesses, who was planning to expose me in less than two weeks.
"Why?" The word came out hoarse.
"That's what I'm asking you." Severin's gaze was sharp, penetrating. "You've been spending considerable time with the Princess. Privately. Do you have any insight into her motivations?"
"No."
"No?" He raised an eyebrow. "You've shared her bed, but not her confidence?"
The accusation was veiled, but clear enough. He knew. Or suspected. Or was testing me.
"Princess Cassia and I have discussed many things," I said carefully. "But she didn't mention any plans to visit Duke Blackthorn."
"How unfortunate." Severin leaned against the desk, arms crossed. "Some might wonder if your... closeness to her has compromised your judgment. Or hers. Some might wonder if she's gathering intelligence on our enemies—or making a deal with them."
The implication was clear. If Cassia had betrayed me, I was finished. If she was playing her own game, I was a pawn in it.
"What do you want me to do?" I asked.
"Find out what she discussed with Blackthorn. What she offered him. What she learned." He paused. "Use whatever means necessary. You've already proven yourself capable of extracting information from women who know too much."
The crude suggestion made my stomach turn. But I nodded. "I'll speak with her."
"Do more than speak, Your Highness." Severin's smile was cold. "We're running out of time. And I need to know if Princess Cassia is an asset or a liability."
I found Cassia in her sitting room, calmly reading correspondence as if nothing had happened.
She looked up as I entered, saw my face, and immediately set down her letters. "Close the door."
I did. Then turned to face her. "You went to see Duke Blackthorn."
"Yes."
"Why?"
She stood, smoothing her skirts with deliberate calm. "Because you're running out of time, and I'm not going to sit here and wait for them to destroy you."
"You had no right—"
"I had every right." Her voice was sharp, cutting. "You think you're the only one with something to lose? If you fall, I fall with you. My father's alliance with Valoreth collapses. My family's position is destroyed. So yes, I took action."
"You should have told me—"
"When?" She moved closer, and I saw the fire in her eyes. "Between the moments you're pretending to be someone else, or the moments you're sneaking out of my bed before dawn? When exactly should I have consulted you, Zahir?"
The use of my real name was like a slap. A reminder that she knew me in ways no one else did.
"What did you offer him?" I asked.
"Time." She crossed her arms. "I offered Duke Blackthorn something he wants—my support for his claim to a seat on the Small Council. A position of real power, not just influence."
"In exchange for what?"
"He delays his public accusation by two weeks. And he gives me the names of his co-conspirators."
I stared at her. "He agreed to that?"
"Not immediately. But I framed it as ensuring stability during the transition. I implied that I knew Daemon was... unwell. That succession was uncertain. That it would be better for everyone if we handled this quietly, methodically." She paused. "He thinks I'm helping him build a case against you. That I'm gathering evidence of your inconsistencies."
"Are you?"
Her gaze was steady. "I'm feeding him false leads. Contradictions that waste his time. Questions that lead nowhere. I'm making him think he's getting closer to the truth while actually pushing him further away."
I felt something shift in my chest—horror and admiration tangled together. "You're playing both sides."
"I'm playing the only game that matters. Survival." She moved closer, and I could smell her perfume, feel the heat of her. "But he asked questions, Zahir. About your changed behavior. Your kindness to servants. Your swordsmanship. He's watching you closely."
"What did you tell him?"
"That the border campaign changed you. That you saw things that affected you deeply. That you're trying to be a better man." She paused. "He didn't believe me. Not entirely. But he accepted it for now."
I ran a hand through my hair, trying to process this. "You risked everything—"
"To buy you time. To give us a chance." Her hand found mine. "But there's something else. A woman arrived at the palace this morning. A former... companion of Daemon's."
My blood went cold. "I know."
"You've spoken to her?"
"Yes."
Cassia's expression shifted—something dangerous flickering in her eyes. "And?"
"She knows I'm not him."
Silence. Heavy, suffocating silence.
"And she's still alive?" Cassia's voice was very quiet.
"She agreed to keep my secret."
"Why?"
"Because I didn't threaten her. I told her the truth. And she... understood."
Cassia studied me for a long moment. "How well did she know Daemon? How intimately?"
"She was his property. For three years."
I saw the calculation in her eyes. "So she knows things about him that no one else knows. Things you don't know."
"Yes."
"Then she's either your greatest asset or your greatest threat." Cassia's jaw tightened. "Which is she?"
"I don't know yet."
"Then we need to find out." She released my hand, moved to the window. "I want to meet her. To assess the threat myself."
"Cassia—"
"I just risked everything to buy you time. You owe me this." She turned, and her gaze was fierce. "I need to know if she's going to destroy us."
We went to Lyra's room as evening fell, moving through the servants' corridors to avoid attention. If anyone saw a Princess visiting a slave, questions would be asked. Questions we couldn't answer.
Lyra was wary when we entered. She stood as Cassia swept into the small room, her posture defensive.
"You must be the Princess," Lyra said quietly.
"And you must be the woman who knew Prince Daemon so intimately." Cassia's voice was cold, assessing. "Tell me about him."
Lyra glanced at me, then back to Cassia. "What do you want to know?"
"Everything. His habits. His preferences. His cruelties."
Lyra's expression hardened. "He was a monster. He enjoyed causing pain. He had scars on his back from whippings he'd received as punishment for his excesses. He had a birthmark on his left hip. He preferred wine from the southern provinces. He hated the smell of lavender because it reminded him of his mother."
Cassia listened, and I saw her processing each detail. Comparing it to what she knew. What she'd observed.
"And you believe this man—" Cassia gestured to me "—is not him?"
"I know he's not."
"Why are you protecting him?"
Lyra met her gaze steadily. "Because he's not a monster. And because I'm tired of being used by monsters."
Something shifted in Cassia's expression. Not softening, exactly. But recognition. Understanding.
"You love him," Lyra said. Not a question.
Cassia didn't answer. But her silence was confirmation enough.
"Then you understand why I won't betray him," Lyra continued. "Love makes us do foolish things."
Cassia moved closer, and I saw the steel in her eyes. "If you betray him, I will destroy you. I don't care what you've suffered. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Good." Cassia turned to me. "She's telling the truth. She's an ally."
"How do you know?"
"Because I recognize the look in her eyes. It's the same one I see in the mirror." She paused. "We're all trapped in this together now. All three of us."
Lyra nodded slowly. "Then we need to be smart. Blackwater suspects something. The conspirators are watching. And there are too many people who knew the real Daemon."
"We have two weeks," Cassia said. "Maybe less. We need to use that time to find evidence against Blackthorn. To turn his allies against him. To make him look like the threat, not Zahir."
The use of my real name in front of Lyra felt significant. A trust extended. A bond formed.
"I can help," Lyra said. "I know things about Daemon that could be useful. Things that might explain inconsistencies in your behavior. Things that could make people doubt their own memories."
Cassia nodded. "Then we work together. But carefully. No one can know about this alliance."
"Agreed," Lyra said.
I looked between them—two women from vastly different worlds, both entangled with me, both risking everything to protect a lie. The weight of it was crushing.
"Thank you," I said quietly. "Both of you."
Cassia's hand found mine. "Don't thank us yet. We haven't survived this."
I returned to my chambers alone, mind spinning with everything that had happened. Cassia's deal with Blackthorn. Lyra's alliance. The conspiracy closing in from all sides.
I was so lost in thought that I almost missed the letter.
It had been slipped under my door—a small piece of parchment, sealed with wax. I picked it up, turned it over.
And my blood went cold.
The seal was Khemaran. A crescent moon and star, pressed into deep blue wax. The symbol of my mother's homeland. A place I'd never been, a heritage I'd never claimed.
A place no one here should know about.
My hands shook as I broke the seal, unfolded the parchment.
The message was brief, written in elegant script:
I know what you are. I know what she is. And I know what the slave knows. You have three days to meet my price, or I go to Duke Blackthorn. Midnight. The old chapel. Come alone.
No signature. No name. Just the Khemaran seal and the impossible knowledge.
Someone knew. Someone had been watching. Someone understood not just that I was an impostor, but who I really was. Where I came from. What I'd been.
I moved to the fireplace, held the letter over the flames. Watched it curl and blacken and turn to ash.
But the words remained burned into my mind.
Three days. The old chapel. Come alone.
I looked out the window toward the ruined structure on the palace grounds—abandoned for decades, overgrown with ivy, forgotten by everyone.
The perfect place for secrets. For threats. For endings.
I thought of Cassia, of Lyra, of all the people whose lives now depended on my silence. On my survival.
And I wondered how many more people knew the truth. How many more threats were waiting in the shadows.
How much time we had left before everything came crashing down.
The chapel bells tolled in the distance, marking the hour.
Three days.
I had three days to find out who was hunting me.
Three days to decide if I would go to that midnight meeting.
Three days before another secret, another threat, another knife found its way to my throat.
I pressed my forehead against the cold glass and closed my eyes.
How many people know? How many more will find out before this ends?
The answer, I feared, was everyone.
And by then, it would be too late.