The palace was quieter than usual, almost ominously so.
Liana stood by the stained-glass window of her chambers, arms crossed, her breath fogging the glass. She could feel it—the shift in the air. The lingering tension after the masquerade still crackled like lightning trapped in the walls.
A single red envelope lay on her bedside table.
She hadn't touched it. Not yet. The palace messenger had delivered it that morning without a word, eyes downcast. It had no seal. No sender. Only her name, written in bold, calligraphic script.
She didn't need to open it to know it was trouble.
"Are you not going to read it?" came a familiar voice.
Liana turned. Leonidas stood in the doorway, tall and silent, watching her with a guarded expression. His dark blue tunic was crisp, his shoulders tense.
She inhaled slowly. "Were you listening?"
"I was knocking." He entered, closing the door behind him. "You were somewhere else."
"I was thinking," she said, facing the letter again. "About what's coming."
Leonidas crossed the room with slow, careful steps. "You're scared."
She stiffened. "I don't scare easily."
"Then you're hiding it well."
His voice was laced with something she couldn't decipher—concern, perhaps. Or was it suspicion?
Liana turned to him fully, her chin tilted. "Did you come to interrogate me again?"
"Would you answer if I did?"
She smirked. "Depends on how you ask."
Leonidas stepped closer, so close she could smell the faint hint of cedarwood and steel on him. "I spoke to one of the guards from the lower wings. He said you disappeared for nearly an hour during the masquerade."
She raised an eyebrow. "Are you tracking my movements now, Your Highness?"
"I'm protecting the palace," he said. "And you're the most unpredictable thing in it."
"That's rich, coming from the man who parades me like a prize but knows nothing about what I'm capable of."
There it was again—the tension, the dangerous chemistry that sparked whenever they stood too close. It was a volatile dance neither of them wanted to stop.
Leonidas didn't move. "What happened in the underground halls?"
Liana's gaze dropped to the letter.
"I don't know yet," she said. "But I'm about to find out."
She picked up the red envelope, fingers brushing the waxy surface. A chill crawled down her spine as she broke the seal.
Inside was a single piece of parchment, inked in slanted, blood-red writing:
"You're not the only ghost in the palace. He remembers you, Princess of Embers. And he's coming."
Liana's heart dropped.
Leonidas snatched the letter from her hand and read it. His expression darkened, jaw clenched.
"Who sent this?" he demanded.
She shook her head. "I have no idea."
But that was a lie.
The signature—the way the letters curled, the way the ink bled—it reminded her of someone. Someone long buried in her past. Someone who should have died in the fire that destroyed everything.
Leonidas's gaze was sharp. "You're hiding something. Again."
She met his stare, her voice low. "And what will you do when I stop hiding things, Leonidas? When you learn what I really am?"
A pause. A flicker of something raw passed between them.
"I'll decide then," he said, "whether to trust you or destroy you."
Liana almost laughed. "So dramatic."
He took a step back. "This letter isn't just a threat. It's a declaration. Whoever sent this knows who you are."
"Or who I was," she whispered.
"Same difference. You're in danger. And that makes this entire palace vulnerable."
Liana turned back toward the window. Outside, dark clouds had begun to gather. A storm was coming.
"I need access to the old royal archives," she said suddenly.
Leonidas blinked. "Why?"
"Because the name 'Princess of Embers' was never public. Only two people ever called me that—my mother... and him."
"Him?" Leonidas narrowed his eyes. "Who is 'him'?"
Liana's lips parted, but no sound came. She couldn't say his name. Not yet. Not until she was sure.
Leonidas cursed under his breath. "You really don't trust anyone, do you?"
"Not even myself," she said softly.
He moved toward the door. "I'll grant you access to the archives. But I want you under constant guard. No more disappearing."
"And if I refuse?"
He stopped at the threshold and looked back at her. "Then I'll lock you in this room myself."
Liana rolled her eyes. "Charming."
---
Later that Night...
The royal archives were buried deep beneath the palace, protected by steel doors and ancient enchantments only a Raevan heir could break.
Leonidas entered the chamber first, his hand pressed to the etched sigil on the door. It glowed faintly before opening with a groan of old stone.
"After you," he said, holding the door for her.
The archives were lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves, filled with scrolls, leather-bound books, and hidden volumes covered in dust. In the center stood an old table with a lantern already lit.
Liana stepped in cautiously, scanning the shelves.
"What exactly are you looking for?" Leonidas asked.
"A list of survivors," she murmured. "From the Elarian rebellion. Anyone who might have disappeared... and resurfaced."
Leonidas crossed his arms. "You think this enemy is Elarian?"
"I think he's more than that," she said. "I think he's the one who burned my world to the ground... and now he wants to finish what he started."
As Liana searched, her fingers paused on a crimson journal with a worn spine.
She pulled it free and opened it.
Inside were pages of coded entries—maps, names, redacted titles.
Then her eyes landed on a symbol.
A crowned serpent wrapped around a dagger.
She swallowed hard.
Leonidas saw it too. "What is that?"
Her voice was barely a whisper. "The insignia of the Ashen Blades."
His jaw tightened. "I thought they were a myth."
"So did I," she said. "But this... this changes everything."
She turned to him, the lantern casting gold across her face.
"I need to leave the palace," she said. "There's someone I need to find. Someone who might still be alive."
Leonidas looked at her like she'd lost her mind. "Leave? Now?"
"Yes."
"It's suicide. Whoever sent that letter wants you out in the open."
She shook her head. "No. They want me scared. Running. I'm not running."
He stepped closer, his voice hard. "You're not going alone."
"Then come with me."
A long silence.
Leonidas stared at her, torn between duty and something else—something deeper, more dangerous.
Finally, he said, "Dawn. We leave at dawn."