10. Elena #3
I’m certain now. The vision, the necklace, the past, it’s all connected to what’s happening.
I need to figure out how.
Lizzie squeezes my hand once more before standing. “You should rest. The journey alone would’ve drained anyone.”
“I will,” I promise, though fatigue is secondary to the restless energy coursing through my veins.
She leads me down the corridor, hand in hand, past high arched windows and gold sconces. This palace is beautiful in an almost deliberate way, every aspect radiating security, solidity, and power.
As we part ways, she rests a hand on my shoulder. “Dinner will be informal. Just us and Hannah.”
I watch her go down the hallway before turning toward the guest wing that I’d been assigned.
Lance waits near the door, his posture alert. “I’ll have someone stationed outside all night.”
“Thank you.”
Inside, the room is expansive yet restrained. Soft linens, warm stone, heavy drapes frame a view of Petrova’s rolling hills. I move to the window, pushing the curtains aside.
For a heartbeat, I think I see something move in the gardens below.
A figure by the hedgerows. Motionless.
Too purposeful.
When I blink, it’s gone.
My pulse quickens. I tell myself it’s nothing: shadows, guards, imagination, but the unease lingers like a whisper I can’t quite hear.
I turn away from the window, instinctively reaching for the rose.
The gold is cool beneath my fingers, grounding and unsettling all at once.
Why now?
Why this memory?
The vision replays in fragments, the way younger me clutched the rose, the weight of Ms. O’Hara’s words, the suggestion to pawn it, discard it, strip it of meaning. And yet… it has followed me through every version of my life. Through titles and crowns and bloodshed.
A soft knock interrupts my thoughts.
I stiffen. “Yes?”
Hannah peeks in, her expression casual but her eyes are sharp. “Checking in.”
She enters, closing the door behind her. “Did you notice the extra cameras?”
My gaze snaps to her. “What?”
She tilts her head subtly toward the ceiling. “Arabella mentioned they were added a few days before we arrived.”
A chill runs up my spine.
“Petrova’s always been careful,” I say.
“Careful, yes,” Hannah replies. “But this feels… upgraded.”
I move slowly, scanning the room. They’re discreet—small black orbs tucked into corners, nearly invisible unless you’re looking for them.
“If Max is as protective as Alexei, I wouldn’t be surprised. Do you think they’re for us?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Could be for everyone. Or it could be because Alexei wants to ensure that if anyone comes, there are eyes everywhere.”
The thought settles heavily in my chest. “Did you ask Braydon about it?”
She nods. “I did, but he couldn’t say much without Lance overhearing. I’ll talk to him more about it and report back.”
“Thank you.”
“Arabella wants to show me their garden. Apparently, it’s expansive and has over a hundred different types of flowers. Do you want to join us?”
I shake my head. “I think I’ll just rest for a bit before dinner.”
Her eyes soften, a crease forming between her brows. “Well, if you change your mind, you know where we will be.”
After she leaves, I sit on the edge of the bed, the rose rested in my palm. The lamplight catches on its design, casting faint shadows against the wall.
My fingers tightened around the pendant beneath my blouse. It had survived every version of my life for a reason. I just didn't know what that reason was... yet.
Not a crown. Not a symbol of any house I know.
I rise and move toward the desk, opening its single drawer. Inside is a thin folder, parchment, yellowed with age.
My name isn’t on it.
But Zurdonia’s crest is.
Just above the words scribbled on the page is the rose charm on my necklace, drawn with impeccable precision. Beneath it, a single line written in a careful, unfamiliar hand:
What is given in silence survives in shadow.
My breath stutters.
How did this get here?
The door clicks softly behind me.
I spin, heart hammering, but it’s only Lance, scanning the room. “All clear,” he says, though his eyes linger on the desk… on the open drawer.
“Did anyone enter this room before me?” I ask.
He hesitates, a fraction too long. “Staff. Standard preparation.”
“Were they supervised?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” He focuses on the letter on the desk, his brow furrowing. “Is everything alright?”
His answer is correct.
It doesn’t reassure me.
I force a smile. “Yes. Thank you. Tired.”
I can tell Lance doesn’t believe me, but he knows better than to press me.
Once I’m alone again, I close the drawer and press the rose necklace back underneath my blouse. The words echo in my mind, threading themselves through my memories and fear.
What is given in silence survives in shadow.
Someone knows.
About me being here.
About the rose.
About something from my past.
Outside, the wind stirs the trees. Somewhere below, footsteps cross the stone, measured and purposeful.
I step back from the window.
This isn’t just about separating Alexei and me.
This never was.
And whatever the rose is meant to unlock, I’m certain now that it’s waking up with me.