I carried a basket of fruit through the quiet corridor, each step measured, careful. Lady Zaeran had just woken, and I was told she needed nourishment—energy to regain strength after… everything. After her memories.
Turning a corner, I spotted Isaac returning from the ancient library, a few guards flanking him. Their presence evaporated with a subtle gesture, leaving him alone as he tucked a scroll into his satchel. He gave me a brief nod, exhaustion lining his face.
I smiled and inclined my head. “Welcome back, General. I trust Princess Atarae is in safe hands?”
Isaac chuckled softly, the sound faintly weary. “She’s been well taken care of. Nice couple—they even have a child younger than Atarae.” He raised a brow, glancing at me. “And you?”
“Me? Just keeping busy.” I adjusted my hold on the basket. “Where were you?”
“Researching.” He ran a hand through his dark hair, sweat glimmering faintly along his tanned skin. “Important research.”
“Researching what?” I pressed, careful to keep my voice light. “Don’t do anything the Empress might notice.”
“You already know, don’t you?” His smile was tired, but genuine, tinged with relief.
I nodded, solemn. “Why else would you be there if not for the princesses? I’ll help cover for you.”
His eyes softened, gratitude flickering in their depths. “You’re the best,” he said quietly.
I let out a small giggle, raising the basket higher. “Now, chop to work. I’ve got laundry to finish and a princess to attend to.” I gave him a teasing grin as I passed
Isaac shook his head, still smiling, before moving down the hall.
I continued toward Lady Zaeran’s room, steadying my pace. I had to be ready. But telling her the truth directly would only invite disbelief. Somehow, I needed a way for both princesses to meet… I’d discuss it with Isaac later.
My steps slowed when I saw General Griselda at Zaeran’s door. She seemed lost in thought, her composure strained just enough to catch my attention.
“General, is the lady awake?” I asked, careful to remain polite, stopping a respectful distance away.
Griselda’s head snapped up briefly, a flicker of alarm crossing her face before she masked it with her usual rigid poise. “Uh… she’s asleep,” she said, eyes flicking to the basket.
“I was told to see to her. Empress’s orders,” I added, raising the basket slightly for emphasis.
Griselda’s fingers closed over it with a practiced flatness, taking it roughly from me. “I’ll have it given to her. Leave.”
I arched an eyebrow at her terseness but hid the thought. “As you wish,” I said smoothly, bowing slightly before stepping back.
She would search the basket. Naturally. But I had hidden the small note carefully inside the knife’s handle, meant for Zaeran alone. If she found it, she would understand at least some of the truth. I exhaled quietly, hope pricking faintly at my chest. Please… let her read it. Let her understand.
The corridor stretched before me, silent save for my boots against the stone. I made my way to the kitchen, setting the basket down with a soft thud and rolling up my sleeves. A warm soup would restore her strength—and perhaps give her a moment of comfort amidst all that had been taken.
As I began preparing the ingredients, the quiet chatter of a few maids drifted in from the other side of the kitchen.
“Did you hear? The Empress invited Rostamir—the council leader and prince of the Elysium Veil—to discuss Zaeran’s engagement,” one whispered. "They say she's getting married in a month!" She squealed, delighted. Clasping her hands to her chest.
“His younger brother is going too! And they say… oh, they’re so handsome!” another replied, eyes sparkling with idle fascination.
"They say he's so fine." Another chimed in, dazed.
I exhaled slowly, shoulders tightening. Zaeran. She doesn’t need their flattery. She needs caution. She’s walking a path that demands strength, and none of this will be simple.
“Focus,” I muttered under my breath, though my voice carried enough for the maids to hear. “Do your work. There is no room for idle gossip in this kitchen.”
They blinked, startled, and immediately returned to their tasks, muttering apologies under their breath.
I shook my head slightly, returning my attention to the soup. My hands moved with care, chopping and stirring, every motion measured, as my thoughts lingered on Zaeran.
I hope this note reaches her. I hope she reads it when the time is right. And I hope… somehow… she forgives me if she ever learns the rest.
The aroma of simmering vegetables filled the kitchen. It was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.
I would watch over her. Always.
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and then Add to home screen.