I woke up alone.
The duke was gone, and the sun was already high.
I was no longer surprised by my dreams.
Some part of me now expected them.
They felt like something I already knew, like memories rather than dreams.
It was strange, almost unreasonable, yet the feeling stayed with me.
I was certain now.
The people I saw—Julia and David—were the same ones from before, only at different ages.
But who were they? Were they truly real?I needed answers.
I should go to the library.
When I stood, I realized I was still wearing that obscene nightgown.
I felt a wave of shame as I searched for my dress, but a knock interrupted me.
"Miss, are you awake? May I enter?" It was the head maid.
"Yes, Althea. Come in."
She brought warm water and helped me wash and dress.
As she smoothed my sleeve, her fingers brushed my forearm.
I flinched.
"Are you well, miss?" she asked gently.
"Yes," I replied quickly.
"It is nothing."
After she left, I rolled up my sleeve.There was a faint scar.I stood still, staring at it.
It is in the exact same place as Julia's injury in my dream.
My chest tightened.
Perhaps I dreamed of her wound because I already had this scar—but I was sure it had not been there before I slept.
Or perhaps I scratched myself during the night.
My thoughts grew tangled.
My stomach growled.I needed food.
I went down to the kitchen, causing clear discomfort among the servants.
I took a loaf of bread and an apple and left quickly, heading for the library.
I had never been here before.
I usually read in the duke's private study, which held many books on history, military strategy, and philosophy.
I had always loved reading.
My father once worked in a bookshop, and I spent much of my childhood surrounded by books, reading whatever I could reach.
This library was large, but after some searching, I realized that the rare and valuable books were all kept in the duke's possession.
I found a book titled Dreams and Their Meaning by Latham Stockholm and began reading. After an hour, I shut it closed.
According to the author, dreams only meant marriage or death.
If you dreamed of eating lemons, you would fall ill and die.
If you dreamed of buying shoes, you would meet your destined husband and live happily.
Who could believe such foolishness? I suspected these were books collected by the duchess.
I searched for books about other worlds, but found nothing. Perhaps the public library would have more.
I would need Henry's permission.
I left the library and found Maria nearby.
"Maria, do you know where Henry is?"
"I believe he went to the training grounds."
I was not permitted there—but I could not wait.
Sometimes he stayed all day.
The duke was away. I would go myself.
I dismissed Maria and slipped out quietly.
As I drew closer, I heard the clash of swords and men shouting.
I stopped behind a tree, searching for Henry—when a hand suddenly grabbed my shoulder and turned me around.
I was about to scream when someone covered my mouth.
"Calm yourself. It is only me."Leo removed his hand.
"What are you doing sneaking about again, princess? Is this a habit of yours?"
"I am not sneaking," I snapped.
"I am looking for my brother."
"You could have asked a maid to call him," he replied.
He was right, and it irritated me.
Lifting my chin, I said, "I was walking and came upon the training. I thought I might greet Henry."
He chuckled, clearly not believing me.
My face burned with embarrassment."You are rude and insufferable, Sir Leo."
He laughed. "Stay here. I will fetch Young Master Henry. If the knights see you, it will cause trouble."
Before he could leave, a voice interrupted us.
"What is happening here?"
I turned to see Henry approaching, his expression far from pleased.
"Aria, what are you doing here?"
"I was looking for you," I said quickly.
"Sir Leo was helping me."
"That will be all, Sir Leo," Henry said firmly.
Leo bowed and left.
Henry turned to me. "What do you require, Aria?"
His calm gaze always made me nervous. He was quiet in a way that felt heavy, almost frightening.
"I wished to ask if I may visit the public library."
"Why?" he asked. "Our collection here is the finest in the kingdom."
"It is," I said quickly. "But we do not have..." I hesitated.
"Do not have what?"
Romance novels," I admitted softly.
He looked embarrassed. "I see. You may ask the maids to bring you books. You know you are not allowed outside."
"Please, brother," I said.
"I have never been to the public library. I wish to search for books myself."
I stepped closer and took his hand.
He stiffened at once, eyes widening as if caught off guard.
"Please," I added.
"You may send guards. Just this once."
He stepped back quickly. "Very well. You may go—but I will accompany you."
It was not ideal, but it was better than nothing.
I smiled brightly and thanked him.
To my surprise, he returned a small smile—brief, but real.
I had never seen him smile before.
We rode together toward town. Henry sat opposite me, staring out the window.
He looked uneasy. I had never seen him like this.
I found myself studying him. Henry was handsome, with softly wavy brown hair and gentle green eyes.
He resembled his mother far more than the duke.
Yet his stiffness and lack of emotion made him difficult to approach.
He had never harmed me—he had barely done anything at all—but lately, something about him had changed. The way he looked at me was different.
I hoped he was not like his parents.
He noticed my gaze. "Is there something you wish to say, Aria?"
"No," I replied.
"It is simply... nice. We have never done anything together before."
He seemed even more uncomfortable, and I thought I saw a faint redness on his cheeks.
The sight amused me.
If I wished to escape this place one day, Henry might be my only chance.
We arrived at the main square. The public library stood nearby. Henry helped me down from the carriage and walked me inside, then released my hand.
"You have one hour," he said.
"I will return then."
Relieved, I approached the librarian and asked about books concerning dreams and other worlds.
Once I was sure Henry was not following me, I hurried to the shelves.Again, I found many books by Latham Stockholm. I was growing frustrated when I noticed a small, dusty book hidden on the highest shelf.
It had no title.Inside, it was handwritten.It was a memoir—nearly a century old—written by a man named Michael Ritcher.
He wrote of his travels across many regions. He was a healer who moved from town to town, staying only a month in each place, helping the sick and recording their stories.
Though I had lost hope of finding answers, I became deeply absorbed in his writing.
"Aria. It is time to leave."
I startled and rose quickly. "Brother, you frightened me."
"Did you find what you sought?" he asked.
"You did not choose a romance."
"No," I said. "But this memoir is fascinating. It feels as though I am traveling with him."
He examined the book. "I have never heard of this man."
"Nor have I," I said. "But I wish to keep reading it.
"We left the library together. Though I had not found the answers I wanted, something about the book stayed with me.
On the ride back, Henry returned to silence."Brother," I asked carefully, "will you tell Father we went out?"
He looked at me calmly. "Why? Do you not wish him to know?"
of course I don't want him to know, I can't predict what his reaction will be, what kind of absurd thing he will do to me
"I was only asking."
"I see no harm in telling him," he said. "I escorted you. No trouble will come to you."
I nodded.I could not trust him fully—but for now, it felt safer not to be entirely alone.