A knock on the window stirred me from my sleep. Groggily, I opened my eyes to find the room cloaked in darkness, save for a single strand of moonlight breaking through the glass. The knock came again, faint but obvious, like knuckles rapping against the sill. My mind struggled to register what the noise could be, and I quickly scrambled out of bed to peer outside.
Nothing.
The town in the distance stretched out before me, faintly illuminated under the moonlight. I realized, oddly, that I hadn’t noticed it during my arrival. With a deep breath, I brushed the noise aside as my imagination and sank back onto the mattress, the fabric sighing beneath my weight.
Knock, knock, knock.
My heart dropped. I twisted sharply toward the window, my neck straining painfully. That’s when I saw her—or rather, who. A girl. Her light amber eyes glinted in the dim light, and I froze, furrowing my brow as I crept closer. When she realized I had spotted her, she gasped and darted out of view, disappearing around the edge of the wall.
“Wait—” I called out, but she was gone. No matter the angle I tried, I couldn’t see her again. “What?” I muttered under my breath, pressing my forehead to the glass. Those eyes… they looked familiar, almost hauntingly so. My mind raced, grasping at fragments of memory until it struck me. Widowskeep. Months ago. The dream I’d had—the one I’d dismissed and forgotten.
Was I dreaming now?
To be sure, I lifted my hand and pinched the skin of my forearm lightly. It reddened under my touch, the slight sting proof enough that I was awake. My breathing quickened. Who was that girl? Why was she here?
I barely had time to think before the door to my room creaked open. The head of a servant peeked inside, his face tired, with heavy bags under light green eyes.
“Everything alright?” he asked, his tone flat, more bored than concerned. I nodded quickly, trying to appear calm. He lingered for a moment, eyeing me with vague suspicion, but when I didn’t offer more, he sighed and left, the door creaking shut behind him.
I sat back on the bed, exhaling deeply. Telling him what I’d seen felt foolish. After Egon’s warnings, the last thing I needed was for rumors to spread.
Roderich, the crazy night-dreamer. I could already hear the whispers, the gossip of servants and soldiers alike. No, it was best to keep this to myself—for now.
Morning arrived faster than I expected. As soon as sunlight spilled through my window, I dressed quickly and made my way to Mariam’s quarters. I had assumed the keep would be quiet at such an early hour, but the halls were already alive with movement. Servants rushed past, carrying papers, bags, and dishes. Some barked orders while others argued, their voices bouncing off the stone walls. Thankfully, I hadn’t encountered the royal family yet.
Mariam wasted no time. She tossed the suit at me as soon as I stepped into her room, muttering something about being busy before practically shoving me out. I caught a glimpse of a man lingering in the back of her quarters. Disgusting. Not wanting to linger or think about it further, I scurried back to my room.
The suit was dark gray, paired with a crisp white undershirt and a red vest. It felt heavier than I expected, and I struggled to fasten the buttons. The tie, an unnecessary complication in my mind, remained undone as I couldn’t make sense of it.
Once dressed, I glanced at my reflection in the window. The outfit fit snugly, but something about the way it hung on me felt off. With the vest’s bright red and the stiff cut of the jacket, I almost looked ridiculous—like a clown masquerading in noble attire.
“Did she do this on purpose?” I muttered under my breath, running a hand over the fabric and frowning at my reflection. If this was supposed to make me look presentable, I wasn’t convinced, and neither was my stomach as it growled hungrily.
I thought waiting a few more hours to eat would be easy, but it proved difficult. To distract myself, I slipped out of my room and wandered the halls aimlessly, hoping to pass the time. My steps eventually brought me to the archway of one of the dining rooms, and the faint idea of sneaking a bite crept into my mind. A few morsels couldn’t hurt before the ball. Right?
Glancing around, I tried to look as inconspicuous as possible, imagining myself cleverer than I likely was. I crept into the room and approached the long table draped in a red cloth. It was unusually bare, which made me frown. This wasn’t the feast I had envisioned.
Then I spotted it—a fruit bowl sitting at the center of the table. Without hesitation, I reached for an apple. Its dark red skin had a sunken spot on one side, but I knew better than to be picky. Turning it over, I bit into the unblemished part. The fruit was tough and bitter, but it was food, and at that moment, it was enough.
“Oh,” a deep voice called from a far door, not the one I had entered through. I froze mid-bite, glancing over feebly. A tall man stood there, draped in a deep red robe, and beside him was someone who looked strikingly like Egon—older, perhaps wiser, and despite his years, stronger.
“I suppose that’s Egon’s new boy, Prance?” the older man asked. My breath hitched, but I quickly schooled my expression, careful not to reveal my discomfort. Prance. King Prance? He looked far shrewder than the paintings I had seen of him, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed me.
“His face is quite rattish,” the older man continued. “Could’ve at least picked a handsome boy.”
The King raised an elegant hand to silence him. “Yes, but look at his eyes,” he said thoughtfully. “Quite intelligent. Not daft, as Egon had claimed.” Prance stepped forward, tossing his robe behind him with a practiced stride as he crossed the threshold into the room. I pieced it together then—the man beside him was the Grand Duke, Egon’s brother.
I sank back into a chair behind me, trying to make myself smaller as I nibbled cautiously on the apple.
The King leaned over the table, his piercing gaze locking with mine. “He does look like his mother,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I could kill Egon for convincing me to let him stay here. There’s no use for a child like him in a place like this.”
The Grand Duke stroked his light beard thoughtfully. “He’s not as beastly as I’d imagined,” he said. “Perhaps he’ll do well diplomatically. Gerald’s running boy died of fever some weeks ago. He’ll need a replacement.”
Prance scoffed, his sharp eyes scanning me from head to toe. “Look at his legs, Avenald. A running boy would suit him poorly.” With a faint smile that felt anything but friendly, he reached over and plucked the apple from my hand. “No need to be nervous, child,” he said smoothly. “Not if you prove yourself useful. What has the duke assigned you to?” I swallowed hard and his smile faded quickly, replaced by an expectant glare. “Answer,” he demanded.
“Nothing…” I managed to mutter, my voice so small it felt like a betrayal of myself.
Prance rolled the apple back toward me, and I caught it clumsily, clutching it tightly to my chest as if it might offer some form of protection. “Poor little bastard,” he mused, almost pitying. Then his tone sharpened. “I have a favor to ask of you.”
“…Me?” I stammered.
“Yes, child. Do you see anyone else in the room?” he snapped suddenly. “Whatever Egon tells you; I want you to relay it to me. Every word.”
“What for?”
Prance let out a humorless laugh. “Traitors can come from anywhere, even within one’s own family,” he muttered coldly. “You’ll know when and how to tell me what I need when the time comes.”
A favor? He called it that, but it didn’t feel like one. It felt like a chain, fastened tightly around my neck. And Egon—what would he do if he found out?
He turned abruptly, tapping Avenald on the arm as a signal. Without another word, the two men left the room, their steps echoing faintly in the empty hall. I remained rooted to my chair, my body tense as the air around me stirred faintly. The apple now felt heavy and unappetizing in my hand. I placed it down carefully on the table, as though even the smallest noise might summon them back.
I didn’t like the King. His scent of old fabric still clinging to the air. He carried himself with an air of condescension I’d grown used to in others, but from him, it felt worse, colder in a way that made my skin crawl.
With hours to go before the ball, I decided to explore the part of the castle where Prance and Avenald hadn’t ventured. The layout was sprawling, with countless doorways leading off into shadowed halls. In the main room alone, I counted six that branched out in different directions, eventually looping back into a rear corridor. I followed the faded red carpet, its edges frayed from years of use, until I stumbled upon the library.
Stepping inside, I was immediately struck by the sheer number of books. Rows upon rows of shelves towered above me, filled with colorful spines—some leatherbound, others plain. The faint scent of parchment and aging wood lingered in the air. I wasn’t fond of reading, nor words in general, but I had nowhere else to go.
Dragging my fingers lightly across the shelves, I glanced at the titles. Books on potions, inhuman creatures, and the history of Kingskeep and Chaluk caught my eye, though none seemed particularly interesting. The subjects all felt too grand, too far removed from the reality I knew.
As I wandered deeper into the library, a creeping unease began to settle over me. It was the kind of feeling that prickled at the back of your neck, as though unseen eyes were watching. After my encounter with the king earlier, I couldn’t shake the sense of being followed or observed. I glanced over my shoulder but saw nothing.
At least not directly. The girl was there, standing outside the window, her amber eyes fixed on me. Watching, studying. In the early rays of sunlight, I could make out her features more clearly. Her face was soft, almost delicate, framed by dirt-blonde hair streaked with black. I wondered if the streaks were natural or not, though the thought felt strangely irrelevant.
Her gaze locked onto mine, and she jolted as though caught, but when I took a calm step forward, she didn’t run. From this close, I noticed the window had a faint bluish tint, distorting her slightly but not enough to obscure her expression. Slowly, I placed my palm flat against the glass. For a moment, she hesitated, her amber eyes flickering with uncertainty. Then, mirroring me, she pressed her hand to the glass, aligning it with mine.
“Who are you?” I asked, my voice muffled by the pane. She didn’t respond, only tilted her head slightly as if she hadn’t heard me. I realized she was mouthing something—a single word: what. Frustration bubbled up, and I exhaled sharply, fogging the glass with my breath. With my finger, I wrote out the question in the condensation.
She leaned in, her eyes narrowing as she struggled to read it. Then, recognition dawned on her face, and she widened her eyes before shaking her head firmly. She didn’t write back, didn’t try to explain, just stood there.
For a long moment, we stared at each other. It felt strange—almost surreal. Something about her seemed off, though I couldn’t pinpoint what. She looked like a regular child my age, but her expression carried something beyond that. Something unnatural. Every time our eyes met, a faint stinging sensation flared in the back of my mind, as if her gaze wasn’t just looking at me, but through me.
What the hell was she?
The question wouldn’t be answered. At least not then. Her ears seemed to perk, catching some sound I couldn’t hear, and without hesitation, she turned and ran off, her figure vanishing around the corner. As she disappeared, the faint stinging in my mind faded with her, leaving only a hollow sense of confusion in its wake.
I stood frozen, staring at the empty space where she had been moments ago, trying to piece together what had just happened. But there was no time to dwell on it. A sudden burst of yelling echoed from down the hallway, jolting me back to the present. My heart raced for a moment, but as the sound carried closer, I realized it wasn’t arguing—it was laughter. Loud, carefree, and almost mocking in its tone.
I let out a slow breath, sinking back against a cushioned seat near the window. There was nothing left to do now but wait for the ball and let my thoughts spiral in the quiet.
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