Cherreads

Chapter 23 - 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Beneath the Veil**

Storms don't always come with thunder.

Sometimes, they arrive in silence—in sideways glances, unsent letters, and footsteps that vanish before you turn.

And that week, the palace was full of storms.

* * *

It started with a whisper.

A kitchen maid—no older than sixteen—overheard something odd while delivering soup to the outer guardroom.

A name, whispered in fear.

"Dorian."

To most, it was meaningless.

To me?

It cracked open an old door.

Dorian wasn't a noble.

Not a soldier.

Not a merchant.

He was a ghost from my past.

A smuggler.

A survivor.

A mistake.

And now, apparently… he was in the capital.

* * *

I didn't tell Lorenzo.

Not yet.

Dorian never moved without reason.

He didn't return for reunions or old affections.

He moved for profit.

For danger.

For leverage.

If he was here, it meant someone in the palace had found out about my past.

Worse—someone had reached into it.

And pulled out a threat.

* * *

I sent Elira to investigate.

"Discreetly," I warned. "If Lorenzo asks, you're tracking the missing guards."

She nodded, understanding instantly.

"What do you want to know?" she asked.

"Where he is. Who he speaks to. And most importantly—who brought him here."

She left before the sun rose.

* * *

By afternoon, I couldn't sit still.

I walked the gardens. Sat in court. Reorganized the scribe scrolls.

But Dorian's name clung to my spine like ice.

He knew too much.

He knew who I was before the silks.

Before the throne.

Before the palace.

He knew about the years I spent surviving with cut fruit and cutthroat friends.

He knew the girl I used to be.

And if anyone else learned that…

Everything I'd built could crumble.

* * *

Elira returned just after dusk.

Her boots were muddy. Her braid was loose.

She looked tired.

But her eyes were sharp.

"I found him."

"Where?"

"Old stone quarters near the riverbank. South edge of the capital. He's staying under the name 'Silas.' Paid the guards double to ignore his comings and goings."

"Anyone with him?"

"One man. Wears foreign armor. Doesn't speak."

"And?"

"He met with someone two nights ago."

"Who?"

She hesitated.

"Elora."

My breath stilled.

"Elora from the court?"

"Yes."

"She's one of the duchess's handmaids…"

"She's also meeting Dorian in secret."

* * *

I went to the river the next morning.

Alone.

Dressed in a plain brown cloak, hair wrapped, no escort.

The old Zara.

I found Dorian sitting on the steps of a stone hut, sharpening a dagger like it was part of his skin.

He looked up.

Smirked.

"Didn't think you'd come."

"I had to see if it was really you."

"Who else sharpens steel in a silk city?"

"Why are you here, Dorian?"

He didn't answer right away.

Just flicked his dagger against the stone one more time.

Then: "Because someone made me an offer."

"Money?"

He chuckled. "Information. Safety. Legacy."

I stepped closer.

"If you say one word about what you know—"

"What?" he interrupted. "You'll silence me like the others?"

"You're not worth the effort."

He stood slowly.

Same arrogant posture. Same sly grin.

But there was something behind it now. Bitterness.

"You climbed high, Zara. But your ladder is crooked."

"I earned every rung."

"And lied on every one."

I didn't flinch.

"I came here to tell you," I said, "If you try to use my past against me, I will bury you with it."

He tilted his head.

"You think the people won't care where you came from?"

"I think they care what I do now."

"What if they learn about the fire?"

I went still.

His smile widened.

"Ah. There it is."

* * *

The fire.

The night that ruined everything.

Before the palace. Before Lorenzo.

The one secret I had never spoken aloud—not even to Elira.

The one thing Dorian could truly use against me.

But I had learned something since then:

Secrets lose their power the moment you drag them into the light.

So I left him standing by the river.

And I walked straight back to the palace.

* * *

Lorenzo was in the council room.

Alone.

Reviewing maps and plans for the northern trade route.

He looked up when I entered.

One glance and he knew something was wrong.

"I need to tell you something," I said.

He closed the scroll.

"Everything."

And I did.

I told him about the smuggling ring.

About the fire.

About the girl who survived by becoming someone else.

About Dorian.

When I finished, I waited.

For him to question.

To doubt.

To turn away.

But he didn't.

He stood.

Walked toward me.

And wrapped his arms around me.

"I don't care where you came from," he said. "I care who you are now."

I pressed my forehead to his chest.

And whispered, "Someone is using him to break us."

"Then we'll break them first."

* * *

That night, we summoned Elora.

She arrived in her silk-blue court dress, pretending not to tremble.

"Your Highness," she curtsied.

Lorenzo didn't speak.

I did.

"You met with a man named Silas. Real name: Dorian."

"I—"

"Don't lie."

She stilled.

Then nodded.

"He paid me. Said if I passed letters into the west wing and helped him get a map of the upper tower routes, he'd leave me alone."

"Who told you to work with him?"

"I don't know their name."

"Try again."

"I swear—I never saw their face. Just a gloved hand that passed me a purse."

"What did the purse look like?" Lorenzo asked.

"Purple velvet. Gold trim."

He exchanged a look with me.

Duchess Verona.

Only one noble used that exact embroidery.

* * *

We arrested her before dawn.

She screamed of injustice. Of falsified charges. Of jealousy.

But the evidence was clear.

She'd tried to stir scandal. To paint me as a fraud. To hand Dorian the blade to carve open my past.

But she forgot one thing.

I wasn't ashamed of who I had been.

And I wasn't afraid of what I'd become.

* * *

We exiled Dorian the same day.

No execution. No trial.

Just a message:

"If you return, we won't be so generous."

And he knew we meant it.

* * *

That evening, I stood at the palace balcony.

Below, the courtyard burned with torchlight.

A storm had passed.

Another would come.

But for now?

I had survived.

Not because I hid my past.

But because I chose to face it.

Aloud.

Unbowed.

Unbroken.

More Chapters