ELARA'S POV
"Hide in the wardrobe. Don't make a sound."
Vincent shoves me toward the massive wooden wardrobe in the corner of my bedroom. Outside, I hear boots stomping through the mansion halls. The Queen's guards are searching room by room.
"What about you?" I whisper, panic clawing at my throat.
"I'll handle my mother." His gray eyes are fierce. "But if she finds you—if she discovers what you're carrying—"
He doesn't finish. He doesn't have to.
I climb into the wardrobe among the fancy dresses that aren't mine. Vincent closes the door, leaving me in darkness that smells like cedar and lavender.
Through the crack, I watch him straighten his coat and smooth his hair. Transforming from the worried man who just learned he's going to be a father into the cold prince his mother expects.
The bedroom door slams open.
"Mother." Vincent's voice is perfectly calm. "What an unexpected visit."
"Where is she?" A woman's voice—beautiful and deadly like poisoned honey.
I peek through the crack and see her for the first time.
Queen Morgana is stunning. Blonde hair, porcelain skin, a blue gown that probably costs more than my entire village. She looks like she belongs in a painting, not real life.
But her eyes are cold as winter ice.
"Where is who?" Vincent asks innocently.
"Don't play games with me, boy." Morgana stalks around the room like a predator. "My spies reported an explosion on the northern road. Your carriage was destroyed. You were traveling with a girl."
"A survivor from the Cindergrace fire. I was helping her recover her family's belongings."
"How charitable." Morgana's smile doesn't reach her eyes. "Where is this survivor now?"
"She left this morning. Too traumatized to stay. I gave her coin and sent her on her way."
Morgana studies her son's face, looking for lies. My heart hammers so loud I'm sure she can hear it.
"You've always been a terrible liar, Vincent." She walks closer to him. "Just like your father was."
Something dangerous flashes in Vincent's expression.
"My sources tell me this girl wore a phoenix pendant," Morgana continues. "That she has burn scars. That she survived a fire meant to eliminate all witnesses." She leans in close. "Does she know what she is?"
"There's nothing to know. She's a traumatized peasant girl, nothing more."
"Then you won't mind if I search your mansion."
"Search all you want." Vincent's voice is steel. "You won't find anything because there's nothing to find."
Morgana signals to her guards. They tear through the room, overturning furniture, checking under the bed, rifling through drawers.
One guard walks toward the wardrobe.
I press myself back against the wall, trying to become invisible. My hand instinctively moves to my stomach where a tiny life is growing. A life I have to protect.
The guard reaches for the wardrobe handle.
"Enough!" Vincent snaps. "I've tolerated your paranoia, but I won't have my private chambers violated. If you don't trust me, say it plainly."
Morgana waves the guard away at the last second. "You're my son. Of course I trust you."
The lie hangs in the air between them.
"But understand this, Vincent." Morgana's voice drops to a deadly whisper. "If I discover you've betrayed me—if you're hiding a Phoenix heir—I will not show mercy. Not even to you."
"I understand, Mother."
"Good." She turns to leave, then pauses. "Oh, and Vincent? You have burn scars on your wrist. Fresh ones. How did you get those?"
My blood runs cold. The matching scars. The ones that prove he was at Cindergrace when it burned.
"The carriage explosion," Vincent answers smoothly. "I pulled the girl from the wreckage. The metal was hot."
Morgana stares at him for a long, terrible moment.
Then she smiles. "Of course. How heroic of you." She leaves with her guards trailing behind her.
Vincent doesn't move until the sound of boots fades completely. Then he opens the wardrobe door.
"She knows," I breathe. "She knows something."
"She suspects. That's different." But his hands shake slightly as he helps me out. "We need to leave. Tonight. Before she comes back with a blood mage who can test for Phoenix magic in the air."
"Where can we even go? She's the Queen. She controls everything."
Vincent's jaw tightens. "Not everything. There are places even her power doesn't reach. The underground."
"What underground?"
"Sit down. I need to explain something about how this world really works."
We sit on the bed, and Vincent tells me things that sound impossible.
"Memory magic exists," he begins. "It's forbidden, outlawed, supposedly destroyed. But it thrives in the shadows. There's an entire black market where memories can be extracted, stored, bought, and sold like commodities."
I think of my missing childhood memories. The blank space where twelve years should be.
"Someone stole my memories," I whisper.
"Yes. Probably your adoptive parents, trying to protect you. If you couldn't remember being a princess, you couldn't accidentally reveal yourself." Vincent takes my hand. "But those memories still exist somewhere. And I know where to find them."
"Where?"
"The Velvet Underground. It's a hidden city beneath the capital where criminals, rebels, and magic users trade freely. Memory merchants operate there. If we can find the person who stored your memories, we can recover them."
"Why would I want to remember?" The question comes out bitter. "Every memory I've recovered so far has been terrible. My family dying. Soldiers attacking. Fire destroying everything."
"Because you need to know who you really are." Vincent's eyes are intense. "You need to know what powers you have, what you're capable of. The Queen is hunting you. You're carrying a child who'll be hunted even more viciously. You need every weapon you can get—including your own past."
He's right. I hate that he's right.
"How do we get to this Velvet Underground?"
"We leave after dark. I'll arrange supplies and disguises." He stands. "Pack light. Just the journal and pendant. Nothing that links you to this mansion or to me."
"Vincent." I grab his wrist—the one with the matching burn scar. "When we get there, when I recover my memories... will I remember you? Will I remember what happened the night before Cindergrace burned?"
His expression softens. "Maybe. Are you sure you want to?"
"I'm carrying your child. I should at least remember how that happened."
Something like pain crosses his face. "Elara, that night... we were both drowning in our own demons. You don't have to remember. We can just move forward."
"I want to remember." I surprise myself with how much I mean it. "The good and the bad. All of it."
He nods slowly. "Then we'll find those memories. I promise."
Vincent leaves to make preparations. I'm alone for the first time in hours.
I pull out my mother's burned journal and flip through the damaged pages again. One fragment catches my eye that I missed before:
"The child must never know about the prophecy. If she learns what she's destined to become, it will destroy her before she's ready. Keep her innocent. Keep her safe. Keep her from the truth at all costs."
What prophecy?
What truth?
I'm still staring at the words when I hear Vincent's voice in the hallway. He's talking to someone—a low, urgent conversation.
I creep to the door and press my ear against it.
"...can't tell her yet," Vincent is saying. "She's barely holding together as it is."
"She needs to know." A woman's voice. Older. Familiar somehow. "The longer you wait, the worse it will be."
"I know, but—the Phoenix girl is pregnant. The child changes everything."
I freeze.
"Pregnant?" The woman sounds shocked. "By whom?"
"By me." Vincent's voice is barely audible. "It happened before I knew who she was. Before either of us remembered."
"Remembered?" The woman's tone sharpens. "Vincent, what did you do?"
"I had our memories of that night erased. Both of us. I couldn't let her know that I—" He stops.
That he what?
"You manipulated her memories?" The woman sounds horrified. "On top of everything else you've done?"
"I was trying to protect her!"
"By lying? By stealing her ability to choose?" The woman's voice rises. "She has a right to know the truth about that night. About what you took from her. About why you really saved her!"
What is she talking about? What did Vincent take from me?
"I'll tell her," Vincent says. "When we're safe. When—"
"There is no 'when we're safe.' The Queen is closing in. The rebellion is mobilizing. And that child she's carrying could either save this kingdom or destroy it, depending on what she chooses when she learns the full truth."
"What truth?" I throw open the door.
Vincent and the woman whirl around. She's old, wearing a servant's uniform, but she carries herself like someone important. Her eyes widen when she sees me.
"How much did you hear?" Vincent asks quietly.
"Enough." My hands shake with anger. "You erased our memories of that night? You manipulated my mind?"
"Elara, I can explain—"
"No more lies!" I'm shouting now. "What did you take from me? What happened that night that was so terrible you had to make me forget?"
Vincent and the old woman exchange a loaded glance.
"Tell her," the woman says. "She deserves the truth."
Vincent's face is anguished. "That night at the tavern, we didn't just talk and drink. We performed a blood binding ritual. An ancient marriage rite used by both Phoenix and Ironhart families." He takes a shaking breath. "We're not just connected by the baby, Elara. We're magically married. Bonded for life. And I made you forget you agreed to it."
The world stops spinning.
Married. I'm married to him. Have been for two months.
"Why?" The word comes out broken. "Why would you do that?"
"Because you were drunk and sad and not thinking clearly. Because I took advantage—"
"No." The old woman interrupts. "Tell her the real reason."
Vincent's eyes close. "Because the bond works both ways. When we married, I gained access to your Phoenix magic. And you gained access to mine." He opens his eyes, and they're filled with tears. "I married you to steal your power. And then I erased your memory so you'd never know."
I can't breathe.
The man I've been starting to trust, starting to care about—he's been using me from the beginning.
"Who are you really?" I whisper to the old woman.
She removes her servant's cap. Her hair underneath is silver-white. Her eyes are the same color as mine.
"My name is Isabella," she says. "I'm your older sister. And I've been hiding in this mansion for weeks, watching Vincent manipulate you." She looks at Vincent with disgust. "Watching him repeat the same patterns that got our family killed in the first place."
Sister. I have a sister.
Before I can process anything, glass shatters downstairs.
"SEARCH EVERY ROOM!" A man's voice bellows. "The Queen wants the Phoenix girl alive!"
Vincent grabs my hand. "We're out of time."
"Don't touch me!" I jerk away.
"Elara, please—"
"Both of you, shut up and follow me." Isabella throws open a panel in the wall I never noticed. "There's a passage to the underground. Move!"
More crashes echo through the mansion. Boots pound up the stairs.
Isabella disappears into the dark passage. Vincent gestures desperately for me to follow.
I look at him—this beautiful liar who married me and made me forget, who killed my family then tried to save me, who put a child in my belly and stole my magic.
I should hate him.
Part of me does.
But another part—the part that feels our magical bond humming between us like a living thing—knows I'm tied to him forever now.
The bedroom door explodes inward.
Guards pour in, weapons drawn.
"There!" one shouts, pointing at me.
I dive into the passage. Vincent follows and slams the panel shut behind us just as swords strike where we stood.
In the pitch darkness, Isabella's voice calls ahead: "Run! The underground awaits!"
We run blindly through tunnels that twist and turn. Behind us, guards break through the panel and give chase.
My sister is alive. I'm magically married to my enemy. I'm pregnant with a child that could save or destroy the world.
And somewhere in the darkness ahead lies a city of criminals who trade memories like coins—including mine.
I run faster, one hand on my stomach, one hand trailing the cold stone wall.
Whatever truth waits in the Velvet Underground, I'm ready to face it.
Even if it destroys me.