Their talk went on for minutes behind the Matron's office door. Not loud. Not angry. Just steady, like the turning of clock hands. The kind of conversation that doesn't break the air, but thickens it. I stayed on the porch, the cat curled at my side, his tail wrapped around my ankle like a thread.
I counted the breaths between creaks on the floorboards, between the way Matron's voice shifted tones, the rare sound of the man's voice responding low and smooth. Then the door opened. Sister Alira came out first, her face pinched like she'd just tasted spoiled milk. She looked around, spotted me at once, and pointed.
"You. Come in."
I stood, brushing dust off my knees even though I hadn't moved much. The cat stood with me, but didn't follow. He sat back down immediately, eyes narrowed toward the door. I stepped inside, careful not to track dirt on the floorboards.
My fingers itched to curl into my sleeves, but I kept them at my sides. The hallway smelled like old wood and starch, like it always did, but beneath that, there was something else now—ink, leather, and a perfume too faint to name.
The Matron waited by the door, still wearing her red shawl. Her hands were folded. Her mouth was flat. And the man was there. He stood with his back to the window, arms behind him, shoulders relaxed but still too straight to be casual.
His eyes met mine immediately. Gold. Unblinking. His face didn't change, not even a little. He didn't smile, didn't tilt his head, didn't speak. But he looked at me the way no one had ever looked at me before. Like he already knew me.
"Elarion," the Matron said, quieter now. "This is His Grace, Duke Caelum La Caelith. Younger brother to His Imperial Majesty."
I blinked. I didn't understand at first. Duke? Imperial Majesty? I looked at him again. He didn't move. Didn't correct her. Just waited. So I bowed. Not perfectly. Not the way nobles do. I wasn't sure how. But I remembered how Evelune once leaned forward when her father spoke and kept her hands at her sides. So I did the same.
"Thank you for coming," the Duke said.
His voice wasn't cold. But it wasn't warm, either. It was like metal left out in the morning—smooth, cool, deliberate.
"I imagine you're confused," he added, softer. "That's expected."
I nodded once. He glanced at the Matron, then back at me.
"I came here looking for someone," he said. "Someone missing. For more than three years."
He paused. He wasn't in a rush.
"Almost three and a half years ago," he said slowly, "my father's second wife gave birth to a child. A daughter. She died in the process. Complications. We—my brother and I—we never saw the child. Not even once."
His gaze dropped for a moment, like the memory made something heavy in his chest.
"The child was taken by a maid," he continued. "A loyal one. Quiet. Trusted."
He looked back up at me.
"She left the palace without permission. Disappeared. Took the baby with her. No one—not even the Emperor himself—knew where she had gone."
He exhaled. The light behind him caught faint glints of silver at his temple.
"The Emperor was heartbroken. He lost both his wife and daughter within days. He became ill. And… not long after, he died."
I swallowed. My hands were cold now, even though it was spring.
"My brother ascended the throne," Caelum said. "But before he did, he promised we would find her. We made an announcement. We searched. For years."
He looked at me again, and this time his voice lowered just slightly.
"But no one found her."
The silence that followed felt like ice spreading across the floor.
"Until," he said quietly, "I found you."
I didn't move. I didn't blink. Me? He reached into his coat and pulled out something small—a folded parchment. He didn't hand it to me. He just held it, like a symbol, like proof.
"Your features. Your age. The glow the Matron described the night she found you. The hair. The mana signature—rare and unstable, unusual even by divine standards. It all matched."
He closed the parchment again.
"I came here expecting to find a girl," he said.
There was something soft in his voice now. Not regret. Not confusion. Something else.
"But instead I found… you."
I blinked again. My throat felt tight.
"I…" I started to speak, but the words weren't there. "I don't understand."
The Duke stepped forward—not close, just enough that I could see the faint lines around his eyes.
"You were recorded as a girl," he said simply. "That was all we knew. But what I see standing in front of me now is no mistake. Just a misunderstanding… a very old one."
He gave a faint, dry breath that wasn't quite a laugh.
"It means," he said slowly, "you're a prince."
The words didn't feel real. Not at first. Prince? Me? Like… a real one? The kind in stories? The ones who wear cloaks and ride horses and have rooms filled with books and maps and soft beds and sunlit windows? The ones who live in castles? The ones who have last names?
I couldn't speak.
"I know it's a lot," Caelum said. "And I'm not here to take you away this instant. You're not being swept into a carriage. No announcements. No parades."
His gaze softened—barely, but enough that I saw it.
"I just wanted to see you," he said. "To know. To confirm."
My voice, when it came, was thin. Careful.
"And now that you know?"
"I'll speak with my brother," he said. "There are things to discuss. Things we must prepare."
He paused.
"But I will return."
He said it like a promise. Not like a threat. Not like a demand. Like something unbreakable. My fingers curled at my sides. I didn't know what to say. He looked at me one last time, then inclined his head.
"Until we meet again, Elarion."
He turned and left without waiting for a response. The Matron watched him go, her eyes unreadable. I stood in her office, silent. Prince. I said the word in my head again. It felt strange. Too big. Too clean. Too far from under-the-stairs and secondhand tunics and sitting with cats in gardens.
But it didn't feel wrong. Just… not mine. Not yet. The cat was waiting when I stepped outside. He looked at me once. Then, for the first time, rubbed his head gently against my leg. And sat.