Morning spilled in through sheer curtains, casting golden fingers across the cold stone floor. It warmed nothing.
And today, unlike the others, no memory came.
No whisper from Lily.
No flicker of her past.
Only silence.
A knock shattered it.
Before I could answer, the door creaked open on its own. Emily entered with the quiet poise of someone who'd lived too long in someone else's shadow. Her hands were folded neatly over her apron, her eyes lowered.
"Hi, Emily," I murmured, sliding out from beneath the covers. My bare feet met the chilled floor as I padded toward the washroom.
She moved gracefully, wordlessly fetching water. I paused by the window. Outside, the maids moved like smoke—silent, shapeless, drifting in small clusters from the mansion's rear entrance. A far cry from my first day here, when nearly eighteen of them had marched in with perfumes and towels, scrubbing me like I was something unclean. Now? Only Emily remained.
Something had shifted. Something was slipping.
Voices echoed faintly from the parlor, murmurs rising and falling like uncertain waves. I leaned closer to the glass. Were they discussing Duskvale? Had Julian already made his decision? And General D'Arcane—was Briswen Hollow already crumbling into foreign hands?
"Emily," I said as I lowered myself into the warm bath, "do you know what my brother's been up to?"
"I believe the young master is visiting General D'Arcane," she said softly, pouring water along my spine. "To check on his wounds."
"That's all?"
She hesitated. Her fingers stilled against my shoulder. "I heard… strange sounds. Coming from the room. He was in there for nearly two hours afterward."
I frowned. "Odd."
Emily resumed her work in silence, but my thoughts refused to settle.
If Lily's parents were framed, someone must have planted the evidence. But who? A spy? Someone from the outside?
No. That was impossible. Back then, no stranger could enter the mansion without the Duke knowing. He was said to have a gift—a sixth sense for threats.
Which meant the traitor… was already inside.
"Emily," I asked, "how many servants remain in the mansion?"
"Seventeen maids. Three butlers." She hesitated. "And one knight."
"One knight?" I sat up. "Who?"
"I don't know, my lady. I've never seen him. They say… he's imprisoned."
My breath caught. "Why?"
"They say he tried to assassinate the king."
The water sloshed as I nearly slipped beneath its surface. "What? Why would he—?"
"No one knows. It happened the same day your parents were arrested. He vanished during their transfer to Athera… then reappeared. That's when he attacked."
The timing wasn't just suspicious. It was damning.
Perhaps he'd uncovered something. A truth so dangerous he'd risked everything to stop it.
"Was he executed?"
Emily shook her head. "Your father begged the king to spare him."
The breath left my lungs. Why would Lily's father plead for a traitor?
"Can anyone visit him?"
"No, my lady. The king forbade it."
Too convenient.
After Emily dressed me, I made my way to Julian's office. I raised a hand to knock. "It's me, Julian. There's something I need to—"
No reply.
I pushed the door open.
Empty. I almost expected him to be there, brooding behind his desk, ignoring me again. But the room was silent.
As I turned to leave, something caught my eye.
A book—oddly placed, lacking any title or markings. A blank leather cover.
I picked it up. The pages were all empty.
Then I noticed it: a faint gap behind the bookshelf.
I leaned in, fingertips brushing the frame. A narrow wooden door, hidden in the wall.
My heart thundered.
I grabbed a candle and a decorative sword from the wall. It was heavier than it looked. Sharper, too.
The crawlspace was narrow, damp, and stale with forgotten air. The stone floor scraped my knees as I crawled forward, following a faint glow ahead.
Then I saw it.
A chamber, small and cloaked in quiet. At its center stood a marble door—towering, ancient, untouched. A pulsing stone hovered above it, humming faintly.
I stepped closer. No handle. No lock. Except…
A carving, barely visible beneath years of dust. A wolf's head, snarling in silence.
I reached out—
A shadow fell over the stone.
Julian.
He stood in the passage's mouth, arms crossed, face unreadable.
"I thought a spy had broken in," he said. "But it's just you."
"I… I was looking for you. I found this instead."
He brushed past me. His gaze locked on the door, and his expression—cold, composed—cracked for just a second.
"You recognize it," I said.
"No."
"You do. You looked like you saw a ghost."
Silence.
"I know I'm not your sister," I said quietly. "And maybe I don't have the right. But—"
"You don't," he snapped.
His voice struck like a blade.
I flinched. The words shouldn't have hurt. But they did. Maybe they weren't meant for me. Maybe they were for her—the real Lily. Her grief still bled in my veins.
I turned away.
There was no point in staying. Not if he couldn't see me.
I left the chamber and wandered the halls. My feet carried me to a room I barely remembered—Lily's grandmother's chamber.
Empty. Dust-laced.
I lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. A painted mountain loomed overhead—soft blues and golds, the peak glowing like a memory. Something shimmered just above it.
A drawer.
Inside: a photo. And a word, scrawled in faded ink.
Briswen Hollow.
The same name. The same mountain.
I turned the photo over. A little boy, no older than four, held a baby in his arms.
Julian. And Lily.
My throat tightened. I needed to speak to him.
When I returned to his office, I raised my hand to knock—only to hear voices within.
"You're giving Briswen Hollow to Duskvale?" the head maid asked gently.
"Yes," Julian said. "They're close to the royal family. We have no choice."
Silence.
So that was it. Just like the original novel.
But the story never gave us details. Just a sentence about his arrest. And now, standing here, I felt it—
There would be consequences.
Later, in the library, I found only silence. Emily's handwriting sat on a single letter left behind:
My lady, I can't come. There are many chores I must attend to.
So I was alone again.
I slumped into a chair and tried to sleep. But rest never came. My thoughts spun faster and faster. Eventually, I wandered outside, beyond the gardens, until the forest loomed ahead, mist curling between the trees like ghosts.
No one would build a mansion near a dangerous forest… right?
I stepped into the shadows.
The trees swallowed me whole. The air was cooler here, damp with moss and memory.
Then—I heard them.
"I couldn't find the key."
I crouched behind a tree.
The maid from earlier stood just ahead, whispering to an older woman whose face was hidden.
"Did you find the marble door?"
"No. She hid it well."
"Are you sure the man told the truth? About the treasure?"
"He swore he did. In exchange for the object. The one we left in the Duke's office."
"Then where is it?!"
A hiss. A furious growl.
So they were traitors.
I backed away slowly, heart pounding, and slipped back into the mansion unnoticed.
I had to tell Julian. Whether he hated me or not, this mattered.
When I reached his office again, I knocked. "It's me, young Duke."
A pause.
Then: "Come in."
He didn't look up as I entered. His pen scratched against paper like a blade across stone.
"What do you want?"
I took a breath. "Before General D'Arcane and Lord Duskvale arrived, I saw a maid—at night—in your grandmother's room. Searching. I distracted her, but… there's more. This morning I heard her again. She spoke of a marble door. Of a key. And of something placed in your father's office… in exchange for their loyalty."
Julian froze.
"There's a treasure, Julian. Or they think there is. And they're working for someone."
His pen dropped.
"You're sure?"
"I am. But I want something in return."
His eyes narrowed. "What?"
"Information. I want to know what you've discovered about the people who framed your parents."
"Why should I tell you?"
"Because I know something you don't."
"And what's that?"
I met his gaze. "Confidential. But I will say this—I'll help you get your real sister back."
He didn't move. Didn't blink.
"I suspect the royal family," he finally said. "With Duskvale's help, I'm getting closer."
"And the Crown Prince?"
Julian gave a cold laugh. "He's no friend. Just a showman. A prince with a painted smile."
He looked at me sharply.
"A warning—stay away from Alistair. He's not who he pretends to be."
I blinked. "We've barely spoken."
"Good. If you get too close, he'll grow suspicious."
"He should," I said calmly. "Because if Alistair touches you… He can see your past."
Julian froze. "What?"
"You heard me. He sees memories."
He stared, silent.
"Are you going to tell me who the maids are?" he asked at last.