Chapter Nine : A Memory That Wasn't Hers
It was Friday...the long-awaited day Aurelia would begin her work in Professor Ardyn's study.
The morning carried a strange mixture of nerves and excitement. She'd dressed neatly, a cream blouse tucked into a soft blue skirt, yet her fingers wouldn't stop fiddling with her sleeves. Her heart fluttered unevenly, each beat whispering of the weight this day carried.
Cal's words from earlier in the week echoed in her mind
"That mark… it feels like something magical."
She shook the thought away. No distractions. Not today.
As she neared the door to Ardyn's study, the faint sound of laughter filtered through the wood. Feminine, lilting, familiar. Aurelia froze mid-step, her hand hovering just above the brass handle. Then she heard the lower tone of a man's voice, unmistakably Ardyn's.
Her pulse quickened.
No, don't jump to conclusions.
But curiosity or perhaps something sharper, something that stung of insecurity made her nudge the door open ever so slightly.
The sight on the other side made her breath hitch.
Lyra sat perched on the professor's desk, fingers brushing the sleeve of his dark shirt with far too much familiarity. Ardyn stood close enough for it to sting, his expression taut but not yet distant.
Aurelia's heart sank before her mind could reason.
When Ardyn's gaze flicked up and locked on hers, his composure faltered. For a heartbeat, the ever-calm scholar looked human, startled, guilty even.
Lyra turned, eyes glittering. "Oh," she said sweetly, "I didn't realize you had company."
Ardyn's tone dropped, firm and edged. "You didn't. That'll be all, Miss Elarin."
The shift in his voice left no room for argument. Lyra's perfect smile stiffened before she slid off the desk, gathering her papers with a delicate huff. As she passed Aurelia, she threw her a look, the kind meant to sting more than words could, her heels clicked sharply against the floor as she left.
Silence pressed down.
Ardyn exhaled slowly and rubbed his temples. "That wasn't…" He stopped, grimacing as if the right words refused him. "It's not what it looked like."
Aurelia forced a polite smile, though her chest ached more than she cared to admit. "Of course not," she said, her voice softer than intended.
But she did care. Too much. And that was the problem.
The tension between them was thick, the air itself trembling with unsaid things neither dared name. Ardyn's usual calm faltered, his gaze flickering toward her before he gestured stiffly to a chair. "Please. Sit, Miss Vale. We should begin."
She obeyed, notebook in hand, trying not to dwell on the phantom image of Lyra's hand on his sleeve. Still, her heart wouldn't quiet.
Why did it matter? Why did he matter?
"Today," Ardyn began, regaining some of his scholarly steadiness, "we'll start with the recorded decline of Elarion. This manuscript,..."he slid a parchment toward her, "documents the events following the deaths of the last royal heirs."
Aurelia leaned forward, eyes tracing the elegant, aged script.
Ardyn read aloud, voice low and deliberate.
"After the passing of Prince Lysander and Princess Aurelia, King Augustus, stricken with despair, shut himself within the palace walls. He was never seen in public again. Whispers claim his heart failed from sorrow the dawn his daughter, the apple of his eye, took her own life."
Her breath hitched.
Suicide?
The word echoed, dissonant and wrong. Something deep in her chest recoiled, like her body itself was rejecting the notion.
Her fingers tightened on the edge of the desk. The letters on the page swam before her eyes, melting into a blur of gold and black.
Suddenly, the room vanished.
She stood barefoot in sunlight.
The air smelled of lavender and roses. A soft breeze carried laughter, her laughter.
Aurelia blinked. A younger version of the princess in her dreams was in a vast marble courtyard bathed in afternoon light. Her dress shimmered like liquid pearl, and her hair was longer, pinned with a golden ribbon. Across from her stood a blurry figure of a tall man with kind, weathered eyes and a crown that glimmered in the sun.
King Augustus.
"Again?" he teased, steadying the bow she held with both trembling hands. "You'll never hit the target if you keep closing your eyes, my little star."
"I wasn't closing them!" she protested, cheeks flushed. "The wind pushed it!"
"The wind, hm?" He laughed, ruffling her hair with fatherly affection. "Ah, of course. A mighty princess undone by a mischievous breeze!"
Aurelia giggled, pouting as she readied the bow again. "I'll show you! Watch closely, Father!"
He stepped back, smiling with unmasked pride. "Then show me."
She drew in a breath, pulling the string taut. Her fingers trembled, but her heart, her heart was light. The moment felt eternal.
The arrow flew, landing just beside the center ring.
"Closer!" he cheered, clapping. "You're nearly there."
She grinned. "Next time, I'll beat you."
He laughed softly. "You already have, my little star." His voice gentled as he rested his palm against her cheek. "Your mother would have been proud. As am I."
Something warm spread through her chest, a deep, aching affection that made her eyes sting.
"Promise you'll always be proud of me?" she whispered.
"Always," he said, his gaze soft as twilight. "Even when the stars forget to shine."
Her arms flung around him in a tight embrace, and he chuckled, kissing her forehead. The scent of cedar and parchment clung to him, grounding and familiar.
Everything was too vivid, the warmth, the laughter, the love. It wasn't a dream. It couldn't be.
It was a memory.
"Aurelia!"
A voice cut through the haze, sharp and terrified.
The world snapped back.
She was in Ardyn's study again, trembling, the manuscript half-slipped from her fingers. Ardyn was leaning over her, panic flashing across his usually calm face. His hands cupped her cheeks, thumbs brushing at her temples as if he could call her back from wherever she'd gone.
"Hey... look at me," he said, voice low but strained. "Are you alright? You just… stopped responding. You weren't even blinking."
Her breaths came shallow, the warmth of his hands both steadying and overwhelming. "I- I think I saw something," she whispered. "It felt real. Like I was there."
His gaze searched hers, worry carving lines across his forehead. "You scared me," he murmured, the rawness in his tone betraying how much she'd shaken him.
She blinked at him, noticing how close they were, how his usual stoic composure had cracked wide open. The realization made her pulse quicken.
Then came the quiet moment, their eyes meeting, electricity coiling between them, a pulse of something passionate and forbidden.
It terrified her.
Realizing his hands were still holding her face, Ardyn cleared his throat and stepped back sharply, retreating behind his usual mask. "You're overworked," he said stiffly. "Take the weekend to rest. We'll continue next week."
Aurelia nodded weakly, gathering her things, though her mind was still spinning.
Outside, she pressed a hand to her chest, trying to slow her heartbeat. The air felt colder now, sharper.
But beneath it all was something else — the lingering echo of the King's voice from that memory, tender and certain.
"Even when the stars forget to shine…"
She swallowed hard, whispering to herself as she walked down the empty corridor,
"Why does it feel like he meant me?"
And somewhere deep within her, something mysterious stirred, waiting to remember.