In my first life, I didn't learn to read the court until it was too late.
This time, I started before dawn.
---
I requested access to the west wing archives—formally restricted to noble heirs and state officials.
A surprising number of staff tried to redirect me.
"The archives are under review, my lady."
"Perhaps your father can make a request—"
"Shall I fetch a priest instead? You look pale."
I smiled. Cold. Pleasant.
"Cladus," I said, without looking back, "did His Highness not authorize you to accompany me anywhere I request?"
"He did," Cladus replied.
He took one step forward, armor clinking softly. The guards immediately parted.
---
Inside the records chamber, dust hung like secrets in the air.
Stacks of ledgers. Letters. Estate reports. Marriage contracts.
I began pulling them apart like threads.
Tessa waited nearby with parchment and quill. Cladus remained by the door, silent but alert.
I read:
A shipment of rare fabrics rerouted to House Vael three weeks before my engagement.
A letter from a noblewoman to Serina, promising "support, as discussed."
Records of large donations from House Thalor to my father's personal accounts—too generous, too early.
The engagement wasn't political fortune.
It was a bargain.
And Serina was the merchant.
"You knew," I murmured. "All of you knew I was disposable."
---
I didn't notice how long I'd been speaking aloud until Cladus spoke behind me.
"You sound like someone reading her own eulogy."
I looked up.
His eyes weren't cold. But they were… sharp. Noticing. Curious.
"And you sound like someone who expects to bury me again."
Cladus stepped forward slightly, gaze calm. "I don't expect anything yet. I just want to understand what you're searching for."
"Justice," I said.
"Or revenge?"
I smiled without warmth.
"Is there a difference in court?"
---
Hours later, I left with a stack of copied notes.
Whispers stirred as I passed through the halls. Servants noticed my return to the archives. A few nobles watched from the balconies.
Good.
Let them talk.
Let them wonder what I was planning.
The first time I died in this palace, no one noticed until it was too late.
This time…
They would feel it coming.
---
That night, I sat in bed rereading the names from the ledger.
One name repeated.
Lord Malen Cyr.
One of Auren's closest advisors. Serina's quiet supporter. The man who sat beside the justice during my trial.
And a man I would make speak before this was over.
I traced his name with a fingertip.
Then closed the page.