The portal’s hum collapsed into nothing, leaving a ringing silence in its wake. The sudden stillness was a shock after the chaos we’d experienced, and in that quiet, the familiar scent of my room—of lavender and old books—wrapped around me like a fragile shield.

Cassius stood in the center of the room, his posture relaxing as his gaze swept over the space. A slow, peaceful expression softened the hard lines of his face. When his eyes finally met mine, he offered a genuine smile, one that didn’t just touch his lips but reached the depths of his blue eyes. I returned it without hesitation. In that shared glance, a silent understanding passed between us—an acknowledgment of the storm we had weathered and the sanctuary we had found, however fleeting it might be.

But a sanctuary in a viper’s nest is a precarious thing.

“I need to change,” I announced, the words cutting through the tranquility. I turned toward my wardrobe, then paused, glancing over my shoulder. “And I need to find Amelia.”

“Very well,” Cassius said, his voice a low murmur. He sank into a deep armchair by the hearth, leaning his head back against the velvet and closing his eyes. “I will wait for you both.”

Turning back to the wardrobe, I let my fingers ghost across the familiar textures of silk and cotton. They stopped on a soft, lilac-colored day dress. I carried it into the adjoining bathroom. Under the harsh light, the mirror showed me a stranger: a wild-eyed girl with dirt streaking her face and a tangled bird’s nest for hair.

The grime wasn’t just dirt and salt; it felt like a second skin of vulnerability I was desperate to shed. I drew a bath, sinking into the scalding water with a sigh. I worked quickly, the soap and cloth a scouring penance, scrubbing away every trace of the journey. The last thing I needed was to give anyone another reason to ask questions.

Once clean, I slipped into the dress. Back in the bedroom, Cassius was a still portrait of slumber in the chair. I took up my silver-backed brush. I didn’t need a towel. Summoning a wisp of mana, I coaxed it into a current of warm air, a private, swirling breeze that obeyed my will alone. It wrapped around my hair, whispering secrets only I could hear, until the strands were dry and shimmering. I ran the brush through the length of it and hastily tied it back. It would have to do.

“I’m going out,” I said softly, not expecting a reply. I slipped through the door, the cool, stale air of the castle halls an immediate, unwelcome embrace. The knot of anxiety in my stomach tightened. This was my home, but it had never felt less like it.

My fears took form as I neared the wing leading to Amelia’s chambers. A maid, whose face I vaguely recognized, was dusting a suit of armor. She saw me, and the rhythmic thump-thump of her duster faltered, then resumed with a spiteful violence. I lifted my chin and pressed onward, ignoring the daggers in her stare. Only three more halls.

As I rounded the next corner, another maid stepped from a doorway, deliberately placing her cleaning cart in my path.

“Well, well,” she sneered, her eyes raking over me with contempt. “Decided to stop scurrying around like a rat and show your face?” She leaned against her cart, arms crossed. “Why don’t you make yourself useful?”

The mask of the useless princess settled over my features, a familiar, suffocating weight. I arranged my expression into a bland, vapid smile. “Oh, whatever do you mean?” I asked, my voice a high, fluting thing that grated on my own ears.

A nasty smile twisted her lips. “Crown Prince Dolion has been so very clear that we are to treat you with kindness.” Her voice dripped with saccharine poison. “He suggested you could earn your keep by giving us a hand. Since you’re here.”

“Oh, my,” I simpered, pressing the back of my hand to my forehead in a pathetic, theatrical gesture. “But I’m of no use at all. My wrists are so delicate I can barely hold a pen. Whatever could a frail thing like myself possibly offer?” I let my hand fall slowly, my eyes wide with feigned helplessness.

She let out a sharp, ugly laugh. “You know what? You’re right. You are a useless princess.” With a final sneer, she shoved past me, deliberately knocking her shoulder into mine. I allowed myself to stumble, to sway with the impact, granting her the satisfaction she craved.

I pushed on, my jaw tight. I hadn’t taken five steps when voices echoed from the adjoining hall. I recognized Dolion’s booming arrogance first, but it was the second voice that made my blood run cold. I melted back into the shadows of a deep alcove, my feet cemented to the floor.

“Amelia!” Dolion’s voice was a whip crack. “Why do you refuse me? I would make you my consort! What is so special about Thalia?” He spat my name like a curse.

“Crown Prince Dolion,” Amelia’s voice replied, a blade of polished steel. “My duty is to Princess Thalia. I serve her and her alone. I am sorry, but I cannot join your household.”

“It would be more than that! I will make you the next queen of Tirilla! We will rule together!”

I could hear the agitated rustle of her skirts. I had to stop him from tormenting her, but my hands were tied. Not yet. I must remain powerless for now.

“I have no interest in being queen,” Amelia stated, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I am content where I am. Forgive my bluntness, Your Highness, but you have a legion of women who would leap at the chance.”

“But I want you!” he roared.

“Then I suggest you lower your voice,” she retorted icily. “The walls have ears.”

“I don’t care who hears!”

There was a sharp clack of Amelia’s heel on the stone. “The king is expecting you in the throne room, Your Highness. You know how he detests tardiness.”

“Fine!” he snarled. The sound of his heavy, furious footsteps receded down the hall. I held my breath, my heart a frantic drum against my ribs, waiting until the sound faded completely. Cautiously, I peered around the corner—and came face-to-face with Amelia.

We both recoiled, our sharp inhales echoing in the sudden quiet.

“Princess,” she breathed, her composure returning in an instant. She leaned closer, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “What are you doing here?”

“I came for you,” I murmured, my eyes darting down the now-empty hall. “I need you. In my room. Now.”

“Of course.” A perfect, shallow bow. The mask of the stoic lady-in-waiting slipped back onto her face, but I had seen the flash of fury beneath.

She fell into step precisely three paces behind me, a distance dictated by rank that felt more like a mile. As we walked, a flicker of doubt, hot and unwelcome, pricked at me. She had assured me Dolion was under her control. Was this it? Allowing my cousin to accost her in a public hall? I pushed the thought away. No. Trust her. Amelia is brilliant. She has a reason for everything.

The moment the door to my room clicked shut, sealing us in, Amelia’s professional facade dissolved. “What happened?” she demanded, her hands hovering over my arms, her gaze scanning me for injuries she couldn’t see. “Where have you been?”

“I’m fine, I—”

It was the sound that cut me off—the scrape of carved wood against marble, sharp and resonant. Not the sound of a man simply rising, but of a weight shifting, of a presence announcing itself.

We both turned.

Cassius was on his feet. He hadn’t just stood; he had unfurled from the chair, drawing the very shadows in the room toward him. The air crackled, charged with an energy that made the hairs on my arms stand on end. This was not the quiet, weary man I had shared bread with. This was a king reawakening. This was a predator, and the power rolling off him in palpable waves was both terrifying and thrilling.

Amelia and I stared, struck by the untamed force he emanated. I watched as her expertly trained eyes swept over him—the confidence in his stance, the clarity in his gaze, the sheer, undeniable authority that clung to him like a royal mantle. 

A raw whisper escaped her lips, cutting through the charged air.

“The curse… it’s broken.” Her gaze shot to mine, a hundred questions in that one look. “Thalia, what happened?”