Aveline made it three corridors before she started crying.
Not the dramatic kind.
There was no sobbing or collapsing against a wall. Just one tear that escaped before she could stop it.
She wiped it away angrily.
Another one followed.
"Oh, come on."
She wiped that one too.
It didn't help.
She turned the next corner and walked into a small sitting room. She had never been inside it before, but at the moment she didn't care.
She shut the door.
Then she sat.
There was a painting opposite her of a very serious-looking man holding a dead pheasant.
Aveline stared at it.
"You look miserable."
The painting remained miserable.
"Sorry."
She rubbed her face.
Three years.
The king had known for three years that her mother was alive.
Three years.
Aveline tried to remember what she had been doing three years ago.
She had been sixteen.
She'd been living above a baker's shop, sleeping on a mattress that smelled like flour and damp wood. She'd spent most mornings arguing with the baker because he insisted she was stealing onions.
She had been.
But that wasn't the point.
She'd had one birthday that year.
Nobody had remembered.
She'd gone to bed wondering whether her mother had ever remembered her birthdays.
And all this time, somewhere in the kingdom, her mother might have been alive.
Aveline laughed under her breath.
It came out sounding almost hysterical.
"That's funny."
It wasn't.
Someone knocked.
She ignored it.
Another knock.
"Aveline?"
Alaric.
Of course.
She stared at the door.
"Go away."
"Okay."
His footsteps moved down the corridor.
Aveline waited.
One second.
Two.
Five.
She opened the door.
Alaric was still there.
She frowned.
"You said okay."
"I lied."
She almost smiled.
Almost.
"You're terrible."
"I've heard."
He looked at her properly now.
His smile disappeared.
"Are you all right?"
"No."
The answer came too quickly.
She hated that.
Alaric nodded.
"Okay."
She gave him a look.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"Pretending everything is fine."
"I wasn't."
"You said okay."
"That's not the same thing."
"It is when you say it like that."
He leaned against the wall.
"Fair enough."
Aveline looked away.
"I don't understand."
"I know."
She turned sharply.
"Don't."
He immediately lifted a hand.
"Sorry."
She sighed.
"I didn't mean—"
"I know."
She stopped.
He waited.
That was becoming another thing she liked about him.
He didn't always rush to fill the silence.
"I've spent my whole life thinking my parents were dead," she said.
Alaric nodded.
"I know."
"Do you know what that's like?"
"No."
She looked at him.
"Neither do I."
That earned the smallest smile from him.
Aveline rubbed her eyes.
"That's the stupid part."
He didn't laugh.
"I used to wonder what my mother looked like."
"You don't remember her?"
"No."
She looked down the corridor.
"I remember things sometimes. A voice. A smell. A piece of cloth. Nothing I can hold on to."
Alaric was quiet.
"And now I find out she might have been alive this whole time."
"I know."
Aveline pointed at him.
"Don't."
He nodded.
"Right."
She took a breath.
"Why would someone let a child grow up thinking her mother was dead?"
Alaric looked away.
"I don't know."
"That's the whole problem."
He didn't argue.
She studied him.
"You don't believe your father."
"I don't know what I believe."
That surprised her.
Alaric had always seemed so certain. Even when he was wrong—which was often—he managed to look like the rest of the world was wrong instead.
"You're not as confident as you pretend to be."
"Don't tell anyone."
"Your secret is safe."
"Thank you."
She leaned against the wall.
"I thought princes were supposed to know everything."
"Apparently not."
"Terrible job."
"I've been considering resignation."
She laughed.
It was small, but it was real.
Alaric smiled.
Then he looked at her again.
"I don't want you dealing with this alone."
Aveline looked away.
"I'm used to it."
"I know."
She looked back.
"That's not comforting."
"I wasn't trying to be."
For some reason, that made her smile again.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For staying."
He shrugged.
"I wasn't going anywhere."
She nodded.
"Good."
They found Lennox in the kitchen.
Aveline wasn't surprised anymore.
Alaric was.
"What are you doing?"
Lennox was sitting on the kitchen counter with a piece of bread in one hand.
"Eating."
"You have a dining room."
"I know."
"So why are you here?"
Lennox took another bite.
"The dining room is full of people asking questions."
"What questions?"
"Why am I sweating? Why am I not wearing my jacket? Why did three guards see me climbing out of a window?"
Aveline stared.
"You climbed out of a window?"
Lennox looked offended.
"I prefer the term exited creatively."
The cook turned around.
"That was the fourth piece."
Lennox looked at the bread.
"This is the fourth?"
"Yes."
He sighed.
"I've had a difficult morning."
"You've had a difficult life," the cook muttered.
Aveline laughed.
Lennox pointed at her.
"Thank you. Finally, someone understands me."
"I don't."
"Don't ruin the moment."
Alaric rubbed his forehead.
"Can we talk about something important?"
Lennox hopped down from the counter.
"Fine."
His eyes went to Aveline.
The smile disappeared.
"You know?"
She nodded.
"About my mother?"
"Yes."
Lennox looked down.
"I'm sorry."
Aveline shook her head.
"Don't."
He looked up.
"Don't what?"
"Apologize for something you didn't do."
He hesitated.
"Fair."
Aveline folded her arms.
"You said you remembered my mother."
"I did."
"You said she was at a winter banquet."
"Yes."
"And there was another woman with her."
"Yes."
"Who?"
Lennox sighed.
"If I knew, I'd tell you."
"You're very fond of that answer."
"It's becoming my personality."
Alaric gave him a look.
Lennox sighed again.
"Fine. I'll try."
He pulled out a chair and sat.
"I was twelve. There was some stupid winter banquet. I was supposed to listen to my tutor talk about treaties."
"You didn't."
"No."
"What did you do?"
"I hid under a table."
Aveline stared at him.
"You hid under a table?"
"I was twelve."
"You were a duke."
"I was twelve."
Alaric laughed.
Lennox pointed at him.
"You're not allowed to judge me. You once hid in a wardrobe because Aunt Margaret wanted to make you dance."
"That was different."
"You were fifteen."
Aveline laughed.
Alaric looked annoyed.
"Can we stay on the subject?"
"Fine."
Lennox leaned back.
"I remember Elara coming into the room. She was arguing with someone."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"Lennox."
"I don't."
He rubbed his forehead.
"I remember a woman with her."
"Seraphina?"
"I don't know."
Aveline groaned.
"Do you know anything?"
"Yes."
She looked at him.
"What?"
"The woman had dark hair."
"That describes half the kingdom."
"I know."
"What else?"
"She wore gloves."
"Everybody wore gloves."
"I know."
"Then what do you remember?"
Lennox closed his eyes.
For a while he said nothing.
Then he opened them.
"There was a scar."
Aveline leaned forward.
"Where?"
"On her hand."
"Which hand?"
"Left."
Aveline and Alaric exchanged a look.
Neither spoke.
Seraphina always wore gloves.
The royal archive was supposed to be off-limits.
Lennox opened the door anyway.
Aveline followed.
Alaric came behind them.
"This is trespassing," Aveline whispered.
Lennox looked over his shoulder.
"Technically."
"What do you mean, technically?"
"If we get caught, I'll call it an emergency."
"And if that doesn't work?"
"I'll blame Alaric."
Alaric looked at him.
"Why me?"
"You're the prince."
"That's not how responsibility works."
"It is in my experience."
Aveline shook her head.
"I don't know why I keep following you people."
"Because we're charming," Lennox said.
"No."
"Fair."
The archive smelled like dust and old paper.
Aveline sneezed.
Lennox waited.
"Bless you."
"Thank you."
She sneezed again.
"Bless you."
Another sneeze.
Lennox frowned.
"I don't have enough blessings for this."
She laughed.
Alaric looked at them.
"You two seem to be getting along."
"We're not," Aveline and Lennox said together.
They looked at each other.
Then laughed.
Alaric shook his head.
"Wonderful."
They began searching.
Records were stacked everywhere.
Marriage records.
Birth records.
Treaties.
Land agreements.
Old royal decrees.
Aveline pulled out one book after another.
Nothing.
Then Lennox called out.
"Here."
Alaric hurried over.
"What is it?"
"A guest list."
He opened the book.
Aveline leaned over his shoulder.
They searched the names.
Then she saw it.
Lady Seraphina Vale.
Her finger touched the page.
"There."
Alaric's expression changed.
Beside Seraphina's name was another.
Lady Elara Valemont.
Aveline stopped breathing for a second.
Her mother's name.
Right there.
Not in some old story.
Not in a faded family record.
On a guest list.
She looked farther down.
Lord Cassian Valemont.
Her father.
All three of them had been at the same banquet.
Aveline stared at the page.
"What happened that night?"
Alaric shook his head.
"I don't know."
She looked at him.
"Of course."
Then she noticed the page after it.
Or rather, the lack of one.
It had been torn out.
Aveline ran her finger along the edge.
"This wasn't done years ago."
Lennox came closer.
"How can you tell?"
"The paper is too clean."
He looked at the torn edge.
"She's right."
Alaric closed the book.
"Someone removed it."
"Recently," Aveline said.
Nobody laughed this time.
Someone knew they were looking.
And someone was making sure they didn't find too much.
That evening, Alaric went to his father's study.
He didn't knock.
The king looked up from his desk.
"You should knock."
"I know."
"Then why didn't you?"
"I didn't feel like it."
His father stared at him.
"You're angry."
"Yes."
"At me."
"Yes."
The king leaned back.
"Fair."
Alaric stared at him.
"Where is she?"
The king looked away.
"I don't know."
"That's not true."
"I don't know where she is now."
"Where was she?"
Silence.
"Father."
The king sighed.
"South."
"Where?"
"Near the western border."
"Which part?"
"I don't remember."
"You don't remember?"
"It was three years ago."
"You remembered long enough to send people after her."
The king's face hardened.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Then tell me."
"I searched for her."
"And found nothing."
"Yes."
"How long?"
The king said nothing.
"How long have you known she was alive?"
"Three years."
Alaric stared at him.
"And you didn't tell Aveline."
"I was protecting her."
"From what?"
"The people who wanted her dead."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
Alaric laughed bitterly.
"You know an awful lot of things you don't know."
The king stood.
"Be careful."
"No."
Alaric stepped closer.
"She deserved the truth."
"I was trying to keep her alive."
"You kept her ignorant."
"I kept her alive."
"That's not the same thing."
The king looked away.
Alaric's voice dropped.
"Who was her guardian?"
The king's expression changed.
"Why?"
"Because you said someone who knew the truth was killed."
"Yes."
"Who?"
The king hesitated.
"Her guardian."
"When?"
"Three years ago."
"And you never told me."
"I didn't want you involved."
Alaric stared at him.
"You didn't want me involved?"
"You are my son."
"And she's the girl I love."
The words slipped out.
He hadn't planned to say them.
His father went still.
Alaric looked away.
There was an awkward silence.
The king finally asked, "Do you love her?"
Alaric rubbed his face.
"I think you already know the answer."
His father nodded slowly.
"Then you need to understand something."
"What?"
"Loving Aveline won't make this safer."
Alaric looked at him.
"I'm not asking for safe."
Aveline sat alone in the library.
The guest list was open in front of her.
She wasn't reading it anymore.
She was thinking about her mother.
Alive.
Maybe.
Somewhere.
Or perhaps she had died after the king last heard from her.
That thought hurt worse than the others.
Aveline put the book aside.
The door opened.
Alaric walked in.
"You look angry."
"I am."
"At me?"
"No."
He sat beside her.
Neither spoke for a while.
Then Aveline said, "We found the guest list."
"So did I."
She looked at him.
"What did you find?"
He told her about his conversation with the king.
When he finished, she was quiet.
"He searched for her."
"Yes."
"And didn't find her."
"Yes."
She stared at the table.
"Maybe she's dead."
Alaric didn't rush to deny it.
That helped.
Aveline nodded.
"That's what I thought."
He reached for her hand.
She let him take it.
His fingers closed around hers.
No speech.
No promise.
Just that.
Aveline stared at their hands.
"Don't be nice to me."
He looked at her.
"Why?"
"Because I'm trying not to fall apart."
"Okay."
She looked up.
"You're doing it again."
"What?"
"Saying okay."
He smiled a little.
"Sorry."
She laughed quietly.
Then she leaned her head against his shoulder.
He didn't move.
For a few minutes, they stayed that way.
It wasn't romantic.
Not exactly.
It was simply quiet.
And Aveline needed quiet.
Then—
CRASH.
They both jumped apart.
Something had fallen in the corridor.
A servant shouted.
"Guards!"
Alaric was already standing.
Aveline followed.
They ran into the corridor.
A servant was pointing toward the far end.
"Someone was there!"
"Who?" Alaric asked.
"I don't know!"
"Which way did they go?"
The servant pointed.
Alaric ran.
Aveline followed.
They reached the corner.
Nothing.
Then Alaric looked down.
A black glove lay on the floor.
Aveline picked it up.
There was a small cut across the palm.
A scar.
She looked at Alaric.
"Seraphina."
Lennox came running toward them.
"What happened?"
Aveline held up the glove.
Lennox stared at it.
His face changed.
"Oh."
"What?"
He looked at Aveline.
"I remember."
Alaric stepped closer.
"Remember what?"
Lennox shook his head.
"No."
"Lennox."
"I can't."
"You just said you remembered."
"I know."
"Then talk."
Lennox looked at Aveline.
"I know where I've seen that scar."
"Where?"
"The night you disappeared."
Aveline's fingers tightened around the glove.
"What?"
"I was there."
Alaric stared at him.
"You were there?"
"Not the whole time."
"Lennox."
"I was young. I didn't understand what was happening."
Aveline stepped closer.
"What did you see?"
Lennox looked at her.
"A woman."
"Seraphina?"
"I don't know."
"You said you remembered the scar."
"I remember the scar."
"Then what else?"
Lennox hesitated.
"She was with your mother."
Aveline couldn't speak.
Alaric's voice was quiet.
"Where were they going?"
Lennox looked toward the dark corridor.
"I don't know."
"Lennox."
"I don't know."
Aveline shook her head.
"Then why are you acting like you know something?"
"Because I do."
He looked at her.
"But I don't know how to tell you."
"Try."
Lennox's face tightened.
"Your mother wasn't running away."
Aveline stared.
"What?"
"She was hiding you."
"From Seraphina?"
Lennox didn't answer immediately.
Then he shook his head.
"No."
Aveline waited.
"From the king."
The corridor went quiet.
Even the guards seemed to stop moving.
Alaric looked at his cousin.
"What are you saying?"
Lennox looked at Aveline.
"I think your mother took you because she was afraid of him."
Aveline stared at him.
"My mother was afraid of the king?"
Lennox nodded.
"And if that's true…"
He looked at Alaric.
"…then everything we've been told about the night she disappeared is wrong."
Aveline looked down at the glove in her hand.
For years, she'd thought she was an orphan.
Now she wasn't even sure who had been telling the truth about her parents.
And somehow, that was worse.