Vivienne's POV
I had until morning.
By dawn, Celeste's investigator would present his evidence to the Council. By noon, everyone would know Vivienne Laurent was a lie. By sunset, I'd be arrested, tried, and probably executed for fraud and treason.
Unless I found proof first.
This is insane, Eleanor hissed as I pulled on dark clothing. Breaking into the Royal Archives? You'll be caught—
Then I'll be caught. I strapped a knife to my thigh—old habit from the Borderlands. But I'm not going down without evidence that I'm the Queen Regent's daughter. That I have royal blood. That everything I've done was for justice, not revenge.
There's a difference?
I didn't answer. Because lately, I wasn't sure anymore.
Princess Elise had given me the key three days ago—a friendly gesture, thinking I wanted to research my late husband's family history. The sweet, trusting princess had no idea she'd just armed her brother's enemy.
I'm sorry, Elise. I'm sorry for using your kindness.
The palace was silent at midnight. Guards patrolled on predictable routes—Jasper had mapped them perfectly. I slipped through shadowed corridors like a ghost, heart hammering with every footstep.
The Royal Archives door loomed ahead. Locked. Forbidden. Holding secrets that could save me or damn me.
I used Elise's key. The lock clicked. The door opened.
Inside was darkness and the smell of old paper. Centuries of royal history crammed into endless shelves. Somewhere in this maze were my mother's letters. The Queen Regent's confession. Proof of my identity.
I lit a small candle—risky, but necessary. The flickering light cast dancing shadows across ancient documents.
Where would they hide evidence of a royal affair?
I searched systematically. Royal births. Royal marriages. Royal scandals. My fingers flew through files, my candle burning lower with each passing minute.
Then I found it.
A folder marked Queen Regent Catherine - Private Correspondence.
My hands shook as I opened it. Inside were letters, journal entries, private notes. My mother's handwriting—elegant, flowing, heartbreakingly familiar from the few letters Eleanor had saved.
I read quickly, desperately:
I know this love is forbidden, but I cannot help myself. R. makes me feel alive in ways I never thought possible...
The Council suspects. Beaumont watches me constantly. I fear what he might do if he discovers the truth about our child...
Today I held her. My beautiful daughter. She has his eyes. I want to claim her, to protect her, but they would kill us both if they knew...
Tears blurred my vision. My mother had loved me. Had wanted to protect me. Had died trying to keep me safe.
But the confession—the sealed document naming me as her daughter, the proof of my legitimacy—wasn't here.
Frustration burned through me. I tore through more files, more folders, searching frantically
Breaking into royal property? A voice spoke from the shadows. That's treason.
My heart stopped.
Adrian stepped into the candlelight, his expression unreadable. He wore simple clothes, no crown, no royal finery. Just a man who'd caught a thief in the night.
How long have you been standing there? My voice barely worked.
Long enough. He moved closer, each step deliberate. Long enough to watch you search through my mother's private letters. Long enough to wonder what you're really looking for.
I backed up. My shoulders hit the shelf behind me. Trapped.
Adrian, I can explain—
Can you? He stopped inches away, bracing his hands on either side of my head against the shelf. Caging me in. Because I've been trying to understand you since the moment we met. Trying to figure out why you looked so haunted. Why you ran from me. Why you're here, in the middle of the night, reading letters from a dead queen.
His eyes searched mine in the candlelight. Storm-gray and desperate and too perceptive.
Tell me why you're really here, he demanded. No more lies. No more deflections. The truth, Vivienne. Or whoever you really are.
The words hung between us—an ultimatum. A chance. Maybe my last chance.
I should lie. Should manipulate. Should seduce him and escape before he could call guards.
But his eyes were so earnest. So genuinely concerned despite catching me committing treason. And I was so tired of lying.
I'm looking for my mother, I whispered.
His expression shifted. Your mother?
She died when I was born. I never knew her. But recently I discovered... My voice cracked. I discovered she was someone important. Someone whose letters might be in these archives. Someone who—
Who had an affair with a man named R.A., Adrian finished quietly. He'd read over my shoulder. Seen the letters.
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
Something in his face softened. The anger, the suspicion—it melted into something gentler. Something that looked almost like understanding.
You're searching for your identity, he said. For who you really are.
Yes. The truth felt like freedom and terror all at once.
Adrian was quiet for a long moment. Then, without warning, he reached past me to the shelf. His fingers found a hidden latch I'd completely missed.
A drawer popped open. Secret. Concealed.
My mother kept her most private documents here, he said quietly. The things she didn't want even the archivists to find. If there's anything about her affair—about a child—it would be here.
Hope exploded in my chest. Why are you helping me?
Because I know what it's like to search for truth about a dead parent. His hand brushed mine as we both reached for the drawer. Because whoever you are, whatever you're hiding—you deserve to know where you came from.
Inside the drawer were more letters. Tied with a ribbon. Sealed with the Queen Regent's personal crest.
My hands shook as I pulled them out. Adrian held the candle closer so I could read.
The first letter made my breath catch:
My dearest R.A.,
Our daughter thrives in your brother's care, though it breaks my heart not to claim her publicly. She is so beautiful—dark hair like yours, intelligent eyes that already see too much. I've named her Isabelle Catherine, though your brother calls her simply Isabelle Ashford...
Adrian inhaled sharply. Isabelle. The girl Celeste mentioned. The one who supposedly died.
I couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe.
He took the letter from my trembling hands, reading further. His face went pale as he read the signature at the bottom.
Forever yours,CatherineQueen Regent of Astoria
And the recipient:
To General Robert Ashford, with all my love.
Adrian's eyes lifted to mine, understanding dawning like a terrible sunrise.
Isabelle Ashford, he whispered. Daughter of Queen Regent Catherine and General Robert Ashford. My mother's secret child. My— His voice broke. My half-sister.
The candle flickered between us. The truth hung in the air like smoke.
You're Isabelle, he said. Not a question. A realization. You didn't die. You came back. And I, Horror flooded his features. God. I've been falling in love with my own sister.