Part I — The Duchess and the Dream
I woke gasping.
Silk sheets tangled at my ankles. Sweat clinging to my skin like memory.
My room was dim. Quiet.
But my pulse still thundered—like the bells that tolled for me once.
"It was only a dream," I whispered.
But dreams don't leave scars.
---
The door creaked. Heavy boots across marble.
Cladus.
He didn't speak right away.
Just stood by the window, hands behind his back, the silver of dawn brushing his armor.
"You were crying," he said at last.
I sat up. Pulled the covers tighter.
"I don't remember."
"You do."
Silence.
He turned, his eyes gentler than I wanted.
"Was it him?"
"It doesn't matter."
"It does. You flinched when he touched your arm yesterday."
I looked away.
"He's not the one who hurts me anymore."
A pause. Then, quietly—
"You mean you are."
---
I didn't answer.
Because maybe it was true.
Maybe waking with revenge in your throat every day is its own kind of wound.
"If you need to run," Cladus said, "run."
"And if I need to stay?"
"Then I'll stand between you and the fire. Even if you walk into it yourself."
His voice wasn't warm.
But it was real.
And I clung to it, the way drowning queens cling to knives.
---
Part II — The Crown Without Freedom
Elsewhere, far across the palace, the Crown Prince sat beneath the shadow of a thousand chandeliers.
Auren Thalor.
Laughing. Golden. Effortlessly cruel—to those who don't look closer.
But alone?
He wasn't laughing.
---
"Sit straight," the Empress said, tightening the ribbon of his collar. "You're not a fool. Don't let them think you are."
"Yes, Mother."
"That Elara girl. She's too confident. Watch her. Correct her."
"Of course, Mother."
"And when you marry Serina, we can silence the border provinces once and for all."
"...Yes."
---
Her hand touched his cheek—gentle.
But he flinched like it burned.
---
"You're trembling," she whispered.
"It's cold," he lied.
"You're weak," she replied.
And left.
---
He stayed there long after she was gone.
The fire crackled.
The glass in his wine was untouched.
"I'm not weak," he said aloud.
But he didn't believe it.
Not yet.
---
Outside, snow began to fall.
And the boy raised to be a crown
pressed his palms to the table like he could keep it from slipping away.