My history geek brain explodes at the sight of a room lined with leather and gold-bound books. A sanctuary of knowledge untouched by time and modern intervention. My fingers itch to pull each book from the shelves and learn, but hesitation sweeps me. This isn’t my home. This isn’t safe. I know that if I let my curiosity take hold, I’d fall deeper into a world that I don’t belong in.

  Dark wood panels stretch across the bare walls, framing the massive bookshelves that tower over me. The ceiling is painted red with expert detailing, so intricate that it reminds me of the grand Tudor chambers of old English royalty. Momentarily forgetting my cautiousness, I trail my fingers over the dust-free spines of the books. Oh, what a sight for sore eyes! It’s as if I travelled back in time! My excitement jitters until my fingers are stopped. A book is jutting out of the shelf, it’s rger and more decorated than the others. It's adorned with ruby gems, and yet aged, its binding is still regal and precious.

  The title is spelled in a strange way—different, almost incomprehensible. Yet I dismiss the weird lettering and attempt to read it.

  “King Hadriel…” I recite aloud, my fingers grazing over the engraved title. The name triggers something in my mind, a memory from my childhood. That name…My father used to tell me tales about a noble king who united the people of a frantic world and formed a round table of chivalrous knights who brought justice to the nds. I had always assumed he was just butchering the tale of King Arthur. Maybe…Maybe he wasn’t?

  My breath stiffens, a lump forming in my throat at the thought of him. I miss you, Dad.

  “I recognise you.”

  “OH MY GOD!”

  My soul just barely remains in pce as I grasp my chest, recovering from the sheer audacity of being jumpscared in a damn library. I whip my head around to find the source of my impending heart failure. It’s the bck-cdded noble from earlier. The man is sitting with his feet resting on a desk and holds an open book against him with one of his hands.

  “I-I was supposed to be cleaning…Sir.” I fumble out, trying to regute my heartbeat, dignity and urge to yell some undylike words at him.

  He doesn’t seem to be bothered by my presence. In fact, he seems curious, befuddled even. His head is tilted and his eyes are studying me like a chess piece on a board.

  “I saw you on Caspian’s horse outside. No man or woman of such standing would ever be allowed so. Thus, either you’re not a maid or…” I’m someone worthy enough to ride along with a duke…

  He’s testing me.

  Why? What does he want to know?

  “Who are you?” He closes his book and puts it on his desk, slowly rising from it and walking towards me.

  I cross my arms and meet his gaze. Be brave. Get what you want. He seems pliable to work with, unlike Caspian. “Depends…If you can help me or not.” I narrow my eyes at him, curious to see if he would take a bite of my proposal.

  He smirks.

  “Intriguing.” His tone seems taken aback, as if he’s never been spoken to in such a way. Never been toyed with to gain answers. Did I act too confident?

  “Help you? But I don’t even know who you are?” He smirks, crossing his arms, leaning closer towards me. His hair falls softly in front of his face as he does so, giving him a mischievous appearance.

  “But you want to,” I smirk back at him, knowing I can catch him in his curiosity.

  “You’re smart…and speak very freely. Okay, I'll bite, speak your desires.” He leans against the bookshelf next to him, smiling curiously down at me.

  “I want to go home.”

  “And why is it that you can't?” He tilts his head, his expression unreadable.

  “Caspian won’t let me,” I state the truth pin and clear to him. I am here against my will and would like to be set free.

  At this, his smirk turns calcuting. “It’s interesting that you call him by name,” he remarks. “You speak of him with familiarity, not with the fear most would.”

  Oh, shit. I forgot about titles. My stomach twists. A cold shiver runs down my spine. If he’s a noble, that means he could be working with Caspian. Or worse…he could be a friend. My pulse picks up and suddenly the library seems smaller, like the walls are falling inward. If he knows Caspian, if he tells him about this…He’s going to kill me! My palms become slick with sweat. Please don’t be friends. Please don’t be friends.

  “No, I’m not close with him,” I blurt out. “He kidnapped me in a forest.” Oh good work Genevieve, you’ve really fucked this one up haven’t you? We’re gonna fucking die because you can’t think before you say anything!

  The noble’s smirk deepens as his brows twitch up at my sudden words. “Kidnapped you? From a forest? Now that is interesting.” His eyes sharpen, and suddenly I feel like prey in the tracks of a predator.

  Ah, shit Genevieve! You’re an idiot. A fucking idiot. We’re gonna die! Why would he believe a duke is out in the forests kidnapping women?! You should’ve lied.

  “Well, not him personally,” I correct hastily, digging myself a greater hole. “One of his men did. But now Caspian won’t let me leave.”

  His gaze flickers with something dark, unmissable, but it’s quickly repced by normality, with him exhaling and letting out a quiet chuckle. “So you’re a child of Arathus…Well, I don’t see why a banished duke should hold one of my people captive.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand. Banished? Have I seriously been at the mercy of someone not disliked…but exiled?

  Banished? My people? Who is this guy?

  “Your people?”

  Before he can answer, the door swings open, and a male servant steps in, bowing low. “Sire, the king asks for your attendance at the Eivan report.”

  Sire?

  Is he a…prince?! My breath halts at the realisation. I’m talking to a prince! Throughout my first fascination with history and teaching it, meeting royalty has always been a dream of mine—

  Wait…Historically, royalty has never been generous for free. What does he want…?

  I try to dissect our conversation to find clues of a verbal trap. He turns to leave but halts, turning around as if remembering our conversation hadn’t finished yet.

  “Ah, what is your name?” He smiles mercifully. Pnned. “I’ll come find you.” If it wasn’t obvious before, he had another agenda, it was now. My instincts tell me that I should hold back my words, my identity, but what choice do I have? Caspian? The man who is pnning to keep me further away from the forest? Who is going to take me to hell, knows where and does hell knows what with me?

  I need assurances, and I cannot trust a man who has tried to kill me twice.

  “Genevieve Woodsman.”

  The man just smiles and nods, bringing a hand to his heart and then pushing it out towards me, exiting the room.

  I’m alone.

  The air suddenly felt heavier. Colder. Like the library’s air shifted from his ck of presence. I feel like I just made a deal with the devil... I walk over to the desk that was just in use a moment ago, my stomach strangely doing twists as I approach. He left his book…I hover over the book and reach for it. It's bck, and the symbols I had seen Ester use before were on it but they were different, twisted. The beautiful scribing of the magic symbols appears sinister. It looks corrupt. I'm not sure of the magic of this world, but I know enough to see that this is something dark, something sickened. The front page looks old and worn away, making the title hard to decipher, yet I could make out one word. Death…

  The sound of a woman panicking outside drags me away from opening the book and investigating further. Oh Mandell! She's going to find me!

  Hearing the rge woman frantically pass through the halls, I exit the door as soon as she walks past and hurry down the corridor away from her direction. Passing through the rge stoney halls of untold secrets and a wealth of history shown in relics and tapestries, amazement scratches my historical-loving brain. Passing further down another unknown corridor, a rge tapestry lies bare against the full wall. I walk over to the massive cream arras and admire its design. Bck writings of names with drawings above each litter the tapestry. The names connect to one another in a delicate dispy of art. It’s a bunch of family trees…

  I skim over the names of the noble families on the tapestry, but some are curiously bcked out in thick ink. I walk further, my eyes narrowing on one name, a name I recognize. Caspian Astarteu. My stomach tightens as I see the entirety of his family’s line obscured in ink, as though someone desperately wanted to erase them from history. I peer closer at the crest above his family’s name, now a blotted mess of bck. A bck fme? Is that the name of his family line? Caspian Astarteu of the bck fme family? A wave of unease hit me. It's a name that commands both respect and fear, yet it's been deliberately wiped away. Why? What did he do…

  “Disfavour of the King…He dispys it publicly so everyone can see your disgrace.” A harsh voice cuts through the silence in the air. I turn, startled at the sudden voice. Caspian? I face the rge, barbaric man, his icy gaze locked onto me. Ah shit…

  I swallow, trying to steady my now-racing heart. “So you’re disgraced?” I point out the obvious, unease building within me. It would make sense, considering it seems like everyone in this city hates him. He squints at me as if debating whether he should continue talking.

  “They say my grandfather was a traitor to the crown.” Caspian's harsh tone doesn’t waver. He stands facing the tapestry as he crosses his arms. His body tenses, as if the weight of his family's history burdens him with every passing moment. “He wanted to save the people…” He moves his eyes to a royally drawn crest in the middle of the tapestry, a harsh gaze scrutinising it.

  I hesitate, the dense atmosphere makes me choose my next words cautiously. “What did he do?” I croak, my voice barely a whisper.

  Caspian then turns to me, his eyes dark, bzing with a deep hatred. His presence oozing with anger and disgust. "He saw the corruption. This city, this kingdom, it rots from within. Genevieve, this pce, these people, you can't trust them.” He gres, as if daring me to disagree. The book the prince had… His contempt was more than just disdain for the capital, it was personal. His family was wronged and lived to face the consequences of that.

  “If they're so corrupt, then why do you work for them?” The question burns on the tip of my tongue, demanding to be answered. Why would anyone stay in a pce so tainted by ‘corruption’?

  However, Caspian doesn’t answer. His lips curl slightly, an unreadable expression crossing his face before he starts walking slowly towards me. I attempt to make myself seem fearless against him, but his presence overwhelms my own.

  “It’s funny.” He says, voice low and eyes narrowing. “I put you in the scullery with a group of people, and yet I find you alone." His voice is ced with a dangerous, amused tone. He raises an eyebrow at me. “I thought you might be smarter than that.”

  My heart skips a beat, knowing what might come next. Damn it! I thought he’d forgotten.

  “People-” I stammer on my words, desperately gasping for any excuse to get out of his fast approaching gate to me.“People have a desire to be free a-and I'm held captive-”

  Before I can finish rambling, Caspian moves faster than I expect, effortlessly hoisting me onto his broad shoulders. My legs dangle off his rge back, and I let out a yelp of protest, kicking and squirming in his grasp. “LET ME GO!” I scream, hoping to gather any attention against this brute. I pound my fists against his back, but he doesn’t even flinch or slow down.

  He continues walking, as if my protests mean nothing, heading toward the scullery with an unnerving calm.

  Arriving at the door of the scullery, Caspian slowly guides me to the ground, parking me at the entrance. I shoot him a gre, and in turn, he shoots a harsher one back, clearly annoyed at my escape attempt. With a gentle push, the door swings open, and the lively chatter from within spills into the hallway, only to abruptly cease the moment Caspian steps inside.

  My mood instantly sours as the workers in the room begin whispering in a low tone, as they dart their eyes between Caspian and me. Okay, haha, talk about the girl who got dragged into the scullery…Bitches. But before I can dwell on it, Mandell rushes over in a frantic distress.

  “Ah she be one of mine, we better be hurryin’ along now sir, lots of work needn’ to be done.” She fakes a smile at Caspian, hiding an obvious tone of wanting Caspian to leave the room. I thought Mandell liked Caspian and his men? Why does she so obviously want him to leave?

  A scowl crosses my face as I look at the room of gossiping workers again. Either he’s lying about why people dislike him, or everyone here is two-faced. My scowl deepens as my irritation grows. Why are they still gossiping? It’s not a big deal—My infuriation grows upon the realisation that being near him has caused his mistreatment to leak onto me.

  I inhale sharply, ready to snap at the whispering gossipers, but before I can unleash my frustration, Caspian’s hand cmps onto my shoulder as if sensing my intentions. The touch is warm, but commanding. I whip my head up, still seething, but he merely lifts a brow at me, as if daring me to make a scene and possibly cause him more grief.

  I take a steadied breath and swallow my anger. Satisfied, Caspian gives my shoulder a small pat before turning to Mandell. “She’s all yours.” He says smoothly before striding out.

  The moment the door closes, Mandell rushes to me, gripping my arm in a hard pinch.

  “Where’ve you been?!” Mandell, in a hushed tone, shrieks at me. “I been worried sick yer be caught in trouble! And it clear you be by the company you brought!” Mandell bites her bottom lip and pyfully sps my arm with a tea towel.

  “I’m sorry...I uh wanted to look around.” I fumble out, still irritated at the gall of everyone and their prejudices towards Caspian, and what felt like, me too. Deciding to ignore Caspian’s ‘accept it, there is nothing you can do about it’ face, I determine my curiosity and morality are too strong not to investigate.

  “Why does everyone act so different when Cas- the..Duke walks in?”

  Mandell squints her eyes at me, seemingly confused at my question. A facade breaking on her face momentarily as if to ask herself, ‘why does everyone despise Caspian?’ But her brief minute of befuddlement was washed away, and a frown crosses her face. She leans forward to me and whispers in my ear.

  “His family be a traitor, so help us Gods, he be condemned.” She holds her hand to her heart as she leans back. Gods?

  With an eerily weird vibe emanating from Mandell and the occupants of the room, I decide not to press it.

  Something weird is going on here…