Cassie shoved the journal into her cloak, her movements sharp with frustration. The thought of standing still in the clearing made her skin crawl. Whatever trap had been set for her, waiting wouldn’t help her avoid it. She needed answers—now.

  Her boots crunched softly against the frosted earth as she made her way toward the barracks. The path was cloaked in shadow, the trees arching overhead like skeletal sentinels. Every rustle of leaves or snap of a branch set her nerves on edge, her hand brushing the dagger at her hip more than once.

  When she reached the barracks, the low murmur of voices filtered through the heavy oak doors. Lantern light spilled faintly from the windows, illuminating the stone steps where a pair of off-duty guards leaned, speaking in hushed tones. Cassie stepped past them without a word, slipping inside before they could get a good look at her.

  The air was thick with the mingled scents of leather, sweat, and damp stone. Most of the soldiers had already retired for the night, leaving the long corridor dim and quiet. Cassie’s boots barely made a sound as she made her way to Captain Hildiger’s quarters.

  When she knocked, the sound echoed in the stillness.

  A voice called from within. “Enter.”

  Cassie pushed the door open, her eyes quickly scanning the room. Hildiger sat at a simple wooden table, his armor neatly arranged on a stand nearby. His sharp features were lit by the glow of a single oil lamp, its flickering light casting shadows that danced across the walls.

  “Cassie,” he said, his tone a mix of curiosity and concern. “It’s late. I wasn’t expecting visitors.”

  Cassie closed the door behind her, the journal a heavy weight beneath her cloak. “I need your help, Captain. And your discretion.”

  Hildiger leaned back slightly, studying her with the cool precision of a man accustomed to danger. “That sounds ominous.”

  She crossed the room, lowering her voice. “It might be worse than that.”

  Without waiting for him to reply, she pulled the journal from her cloak and set it on the table. Hildiger’s expression didn’t change as he flipped it open, but his eyes grew sharper with every page. Minutes passed in silence as he read, his brow furrowing slightly.

  Finally, he looked up, his tone measured. “Where did you get this?”

  Cassie hesitated. “It was given to me. By someone I’m no longer sure I can trust.”

  Hildiger closed the journal, tapping a finger against the battered cover. “And you think it’s real?”

  “That’s what I need you to tell me,” Cassie said, her voice tight. “You’ve served Theodoric longer than anyone. You’ve seen how he works—his methods, his... ruthlessness. Could this be him?”

  Hildiger’s gaze was steady, but his jaw tightened. “Some of it, yes. The executions disguised as accidents, the silencing of dissent... that fits Theodoric’s approach. He values control above all else, and he’s not above eliminating obstacles to keep it. But these entries about Dietrich—” He stopped, shaking his head.

  “What about them?” Cassie pressed.

  “They’re too detailed. If this were real, Dietrich would never let these kinds of records exist. He’s careful—paranoid, even. If someone kept this, they’d be dead before they finished the first page.”

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Cassie’s stomach sank. “Then you think it’s a forgery?”

  “Not entirely,” Hildiger replied. “The best lies are built on truth. Whoever wrote this knows the court—knows Theodoric and Dietrich well enough to mimic their methods. But the timing of this landing in your hands? That’s no coincidence. Someone wants you to act on this, and they want it to happen now.”

  Cassie clenched her fists, her mind racing. “Do you have any idea who?”

  Hildiger shook his head. “Not yet. But if this journal is meant to destabilize the court, you’ll need more than proof. You’ll need allies. Someone with influence—someone who understands this court as well as whoever wrote this.”

  Cassie thought of the queen, her calm authority and quiet warnings. The memory of their last conversation burned bright in her mind. Lysandra had told her to come to her if she needed help, had even hinted that the court’s divisions ran deeper than they appeared.

  “The queen,” she murmured. “She told me I could go to her.”

  Hildiger’s expression darkened. “Then go. But tread carefully. Even the queen has her limits, and her support might come at a price. Don’t ask for more than she’s willing to give.”

  Cassie nodded, tucking the journal back into her cloak.

  The queen’s chambers lay at the highest point of the eastern wing, a place Cassie rarely ventured. The climb was grueling, the winding staircases narrow and steep, as though designed to deter all but the most determined. By the time she reached the ornate double doors guarded by two sentries, her breath came in measured puffs against the chill.

  The guards straightened at her approach, their faces obscured by polished helms. She didn’t wait for their challenge.

  “I need to speak with the queen,” Cassie said firmly. “It’s urgent.”

  The guards exchanged glances, but one disappeared through the door without further protest. Moments later, he returned and nodded briskly. “You may enter.”

  The doors groaned open, revealing a room that seemed impossibly vast despite the late hour. The chamber was bathed in warm light from the hearth and the soft glow of glass lanterns suspended from gilded chains. Heavy curtains of deep emerald framed tall windows, through which the sprawling city below was barely visible in the mist.

  Queen Lysandra stood near a long table covered in maps and documents, her back to Cassie. Even in her informal state, she carried herself with a quiet grace that bordered on intimidation. She turned slowly at Cassie’s approach, her pale eyes locking onto her with the precision of a hawk.

  “Cassie,” Lysandra said, gesturing toward a nearby chair. “You’ve been busy.”

  Cassie stiffened at the casual remark but obeyed the unspoken command, lowering herself into the seat. The queen’s gaze lingered, and Cassie felt as though every thought in her head was being cataloged.

  She drew the journal from her cloak and placed it on the table, her movements slow, deliberate. “This fell into my hands tonight. It implicates Theodoric and Dietrich—both of them—in ways that could bring down half the court. But... it feels wrong. Like a trap.”

  Lysandra’s expression didn’t change, but her eyes darkened slightly as she opened the journal and began reading. Her silence stretched long enough for Cassie to shift in her seat, though her face betrayed nothing.

  Finally, the queen closed the book, her hands resting lightly atop the cover. “Who gave this to you?”

  “A man named Alan,” Cassie said. “He swore he was acting for my best interest, but the timing...” She shook her head. “It feels orchestrated. Whoever’s behind this wants me to act, but I don’t know who or why.”

  Lysandra leaned back, studying Cassie with an intensity that made her stomach tighten. “You’re correct to be cautious. This journal is many things, but it is not simple. The truths it contains are dangerous, but so are the lies woven among them.”

  “Then it’s a forgery?” Cassie asked.

  “Not entirely,” Lysandra said. “But it’s not complete, either. Whoever crafted this wanted you to see exactly what they’ve shown you—and no more.” She tapped the cover lightly, her voice softening. “The question isn’t just who benefits from this chaos, but who benefits from involving you.”

  The weight of her words settled over Cassie like a cloak of iron. Her mind raced, every possibility as damning as the last.

  “Then what do I do?” she asked finally.

  “You uncover the truth,” Lysandra replied. “Quietly. This court is a web of alliances, secrets, and grudges—some centuries old. The answers you seek won’t come from any single source. But... I can provide tools. You’ll have access to the palace archives. They’re not comprehensive, but they hold records that may guide you—if you know what to look for.”

  Cassie’s heart quickened. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” Lysandra said, her tone sharp. “This is no favor. If you fail, this could unravel more than the princes’ ambitions—it could destabilize the entire court. Be certain of your next move before you make it.”