Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
Adull ache pounded in Nin’s head when she woke. A gritty, dry texture filled her mouth, and she swallowed to reclaim some moisture. She blinked her eyes open, her vision blurry as she stared up at a familiar gold canopy.
How did she get here?
Nin remembered following a servant through the ballroom. She had stepped into a hallway and then…
Nothing. A dark space filled her remaining memories. Dread crawled out of her stomach and into her throat. How did the rest of the evening go? Had she somehow tripped and knocked herself unconscious?
Her gut churned with nausea.
A soft mound nestled by her side, and her fingers twitched over Bijou’s fur. At her stirring, Bijou stretched and licked her hand, her dark eyes shining with affection.
No wonder Princess Marianne adored this little creature. She was a light and comfort to her while she lived among a den of snakes.
“Oh, good. I’m so glad you’re awake,” someone said across the room.
Lucille appeared beside her and pressed a warm cup of tea into her hands, the wrinkles around her eyes creasing with concern.
Nin pushed herself upright and took a careful sip. The heat spread through her chest, easing the pounding in her skull. Beside her, Bijou curled close and rested her small head against Nin’s leg.
“I don’t remember going to bed,” Nin murmured.
Lucille frowned. “No, I doubt you would remember anything.”
She set the tea down on the nightstand beside her. “What happened?”
Lucille hesitated, her mouth opening and then closing, as if she couldn’t decide what to tell her.
The concealed door opened, and Cedric strode inside, his expression grave. Once his eyes landed on her, they softened.
“You’re awake,” he said quietly, stopping next to Lucille.
Nin pulled the covers to her chest. Confusion clashed with the warmth filling her at his gentle expression. The concern shrouding the air was too palpable—too alarming.
“I—what happened?” she asked again, fearing the possibilities of what filled the void in her memories.
A muscle in Cedric’s jaw ticked. “Someone used Silent Breath on you.”
Her eyes rounded. She’d heard of the drug before but had never seen it in action.
It was corrupted magic, defiling the Maker’s Breath.
Rumors circulated that criminals used it on unsuspecting travelers or merchants—stealing what they wanted without a trace.
But it had always sounded like a myth, or a scary story told to keep children safe.
“What—how?” she asked.
“We were hoping you would have some idea,” he said, arms folded.
Lucille tutted. “Let the girl breathe.”
His eager look shifted back to her, while Nin delved into her memories. “There was a man, I think…” she said, remembering a vague outline of someone who had approached her. “It was when I went around the pillar—”
“Why did you leave the crowd?” Cedric cut in.
Shame flared. She crossed her arms, mirroring him. “I was just trying to get a macaron! I’ve always wanted to try one.”
Lucille shot Cedric a look. He inhaled a deep breath, closing his eyes before he regarded Nin once more.
“We almost lost you. The assailant didn’t even have to touch you,” Cedric continued, his voice low and guarded. “There was no weapon or struggle.” His dark eyes bore into her, demanding she understand the weight of his words. “It would have looked like you jumped.”
An icy sensation tightened around her core.
She had almost died.
His silence seemed to mirror her thoughts, with his quiet regard on her to ensure she was still present.
“But why would the Silver Flame want the assassination to be a secret?” she asked. Why wouldn’t they want the princess’s death to send a message?”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” he said. “I have a suspicion the Silver Flame is only a puppet—or a red herring—in this plot. Someone must be using them to disguise who the real assailant is.”
Nin straightened, her thoughts racing. “Do you think it could be Princess Adelina?”
“I don’t know,” he said with an edge of exasperation tinging his voice. “I know you have your suspicions, but I don’t have enough evidence to pin it on her.”
Lucille pulled a chair to sit close to her bedside. “Is there a reason you seem adamant that it could be Princess Adelina?”
“I suppose… I don’t have enough proof either,” Nin admitted. “But I can’t help feeling she doesn’t want me in the picture anymore. She doesn’t want me marrying Rodrigue.”
“That may be a motivation,” Cedric conceded.
“But we have to explore all possibilities. If this is about the engagement, another kingdom—or a noble—may be behind it. If so, they’re risking war, which is why they’d want the death concealed.
None of these attempts is like a typical public execution, as some assassins would prefer.
” He paused, raising a hand to his mouth in thought.
“There was once a case where King Phillipe II was stabbed with a penknife in broad daylight. The man was a lunatic, of course—but this? This feels deliberately covert.”
Nin supposed he was right. If the Silver Flame wanted to make an example of her, they would have done so publicly. The secrecy made her even more nervous. Who could it be—and were they within these very walls, pretending to be an ally?
The thought chilled her.
Cedric seemed to sense her concern. “We’ll tighten security,” he said. “You will not attend upcoming events. We’ll have to confine you to your rooms until further notice.”
The ache in her head spiked as she rushed to sit forward. If she stayed here, out of sight, she might as well be useless. Her life was personally at stake—it always had been, but now the reality of it sharpened her mind. All the work she put into being the princess would crumble into nothing.
“But—what? I need to be out there, figuring out who it is!” she protested. “Someone almost tried to kill me! What is the point if I’m cooped up in here again? It could be Adelina, for all we know. How am I supposed to discover that if I’m not around her?”
His teeth clenched. “This is about your safety, above all else.”
Something fragile snapped within her.
He had witnessed her at her weakest, but now it appeared that’s all he saw in her.
“My safety?” she scoffed, throwing her hands up.
“Yes, your safety.”
“No, I think you mean Princess Marianne’s security. I’m here as a stand-in, remember? That’s why you asked me to do this. This is all for her sake. Don’t pretend I’m some doll you can hide away!”
Her chest heaved, the words slipping before she could soften them. Something flashed in his eyes. He was silent for a long breath.
“You matter,” he said quietly.
Nin’s mouth parted—a dangerous yet warm flicker appeared within her. She swallowed hard.
“People usually say that when they want something,” she said, looking away. She let out a long, slow breath. “So tell me what you need.”
Before Cedric could respond, Lucille reached out and grasped her hand. “Perhaps you should listen to him, Nin.”
“Not you too,” Nin groaned. “I understand everyone’s concerned, but maybe I could do more than just play pretend princess.”
Cedric went rigid, his voice lowering. “What do you mean?”
“Maybe I could sneak around,” she said, shrugging. “I’ve done it most of my life. I might as well put it to use and help you figure out what’s going on.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’d risk exposing our cover,” he said evenly.
“I’m more capable than you think I am,” she shot back. “I’ve been doing this for years, as you saw the day we met.”
He shook his head with a quiet scoff. “And you saw how that turned out. You are not as skilled as you believe you are.”
Nin’s fists clenched. Bijou’s head perked, seeming to sense the tension thickening the air.
“If you didn’t think I was capable, then why did you ask me to do this?
Most of these nobles can’t even tell what’s up or down,” she protested.
“They only care about themselves—they’re selfish and vain!
They wouldn’t even notice me in disguise because they barely even saw me when I was on the street. ”
“True as that may be,” he said, “I forbid you from doing anything that puts you in harm’s way.”
The finality in his voice struck like a blow. Nin looked to Lucille for support, but the woman squeezed her fingers in a silent plea. They both believed her only use was to curtsy prettily and pretend to be someone she wasn’t.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me. I must resume my duties,” he said.
Nin’s jaw clenched as the door shut behind him—discussion over. Lucille patted the hand she had been holding.
“I don’t think you’re incapable,” Lucille started slowly. “But please consider your safety.”
Nin nodded, her eyes boring into the damask pattern of her duvet. Silence blanketed the room before Lucille sighed.
“I should let you rest. The effects of the drug will last for a while. If you need me, let me know.”
Then, she was gone too.
The emptiness closed in on Nin, accentuating the loneliness stinging under her skin. Bijou whined softly, and she reached out to pet her head.
This was not the end of it.
Someone had tried to kill her, and Nin would not stand around like a damsel waiting for it to happen again.