Chapter 10

Sylvia’s POV

The palace was too quiet.

I slipped out of King Lucian’s office as dawn brushed the windows. My steps echoed against the stone floors, polished so smoothly that I could see my reflection if I glanced down. It should have impressed me. Instead, it made me itch.

Nothing this perfect came without a price.

Instead of returning to my room, I decided to explore a bit. Probably foolish considering how I was dressed, but I doubted many were awake during this hour.

The hallways stretched on and on, lined with tapestries and sconces that never flickered. Gold thread in the curtains, intricate carving in the doors, rugs thick enough to swallow sound. It was beautiful, opulent even.

But I didn’t trust any of it; I didn’t trust him.

No matter how steady his voice had been or how maddeningly good he smiled. No Alpha… no king… did anything without a reason. He offered me a room, clothes, and protection as if I were supposed to forget the years of being treated like dirt. As if I could wash my past away with a clean sheet and cedar smoke.

But I need to claim what's rightfully mine—my mother's final remnants. Whether it's that letter or her necklace, they're the only tangible pieces of her I have left to hold onto.

I paused at a tall window, peering down into a courtyard where servants carried baskets of bread and pitchers of milk. Their voices floated up, low and hurried. Normal. Almost formatting. But even here, I felt like an intruder looking in, not someone who belonged.

I pressed my palm against the glass; it was cold, solid, and real. My chest tightened. This place wasn’t a home; it was a cage, designed just enough to make you wonder if maybe, just maybe, you should stop fighting and settle.

But that wasn’t me.

I turned sharply and started back towards my chamber. If Lucian thought a bed and a cloak would buy my obedience, he’d learn quickly I wasn’t so easily tamed.

By the time I reached my room, the maid, Carla, was already inside, arms full of folded fabric. She startled when she saw me, nearly dropping the bundle.

“Miss Rowan,” he said quickly, dipping into a clumsy curtsey. “The King had these prepared for you.”

I let out a breath, unsurprised.

“Please, just call me Sylvia,” I pleaded; being called Miss Rowan reminded me of my mother, and the pain festered even more.

She laid them on the bed before turning to me.

“Of course, Sylvia. I apologize. When you are dressed and ready, I can take you to the kitchen for breakfast,” she told me.

I raised my brows.

“Who said I was hungry?”

“His Majesty said you must eat before your duties this morning,” she replied, nibbling on her lower lip.

I pressed my lips together.

“I see.”

I was surprised that they managed to get my exact size. I tried a few outfits on and they fit me like a glove. I settled on a pair of jeans and a sweater. Carla was waiting in my bedroom as I walked out of the bathroom.

She gave me a once-over before helping me put away the rest of the stuff. Afterwards, she took me to the kitchen for breakfast. It was informal, which was how I liked it. There were only a few servants who gave me a sideways glance as I ate.

It went by quickly because I didn’t eat much. My stomach was in knots, being in a place that was different than my own. Different than what I was used to.

After breakfast, Clara took me to the library.

It was the largest library I had ever seen. There was even an entrance on the outside, so I knew others in the pack used this library as well. The air smelled of dust, ink, and old wood. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it reminded me of the time I’d dare linger outside a bookshop as a child, watching other kids clutching stories I couldn’t read.

Shelves towered around me like watchful sentinels, ladders leaned against them, and golden light spilled through the high windows in the quiet beams.

“This place is huge,” I mentioned out loud, causing Clara to hum in agreement.

“Huge and not very organized,” she said, a frown marring her lips. “We just got a new shipment of books that need placement. I suppose you can start with that.”

She pointed over towards a desk that had a ton of books piled on top, along with boxes on the ground around it, with even more books. My eyes widened at the sight before I glanced at Clara.

“What am I supposed to do with those?”

“They need to be put away,” she explained. “They go by authors and are in alphabetical order. Genre is on the side of the book, so they should be easy to find. I’m sure it’ll take you no time.”

She turned to leave.

“Wait, you're leaving?” I asked.

“I’m afraid so. His Highness assigned other tasks for me this morning. I’m sure I’ll see you later, though,” she told me before she retreated from the library, leaving me in my personal hell.

After a moment of standing in stunned silence, I made my way towards the waiting books. The book titles looked foreign to me, and the names were even worse. I bit my lower lip, already regretting agreeing to this.

I’m sure King Lucian barely ever comes to this library, let alone notices their organization. I could just put these books anywhere, and he most likely would never notice them.

So, that’s exactly what I did. I grabbed the boxes of books and walked around the library, shoving them in different spots until the boxes were empty and the desk was clear.

While I had some extra time on my hands, I found some cleaning supplies in the closet and started to clean. By the time I finished, I had the library smelling like citrus.

The doors opened and immiedalty I felt a familiar looming presence. I didn’t need to look to know who it was.

Lucian walked in, his strides purposeful and his eyes set on me.

“You’ve been busy,” Lucian observed, his eyes shifting around the library.

I set the rag I was holding down and faced him. He filled the room without raising his voice, the way the weather filled the sky before a storm. He took in the gleam of the tables, the even chairs, the tidy stacks of papers on the desk.

Then his gaze slid to the shelves.

“I put everything away. Just as requested,” I told him, leaning against the desk. “Now, I want the letter you spoke of.”

Ignoring me, he walked to the nearest row and pulled a volume free by two fingers, a frown marring his lips.

My heart stuttered as his frown deepened.

“Did you put this away?”

I blinked at the question.

“I… uh… yes,” I stammered, my cheeks heating.

He put the book back and then grabbed another nearby. He scanned the title page before his eyes shifted to me.

“Some of these books have been put in the wrong spot,” he murmured, handing me the book. “Put this in the right spot.”

My heart hammered against my chest violently. Swallowing the lump I had in my throat, I moved towards another shelf, hating how my hands trembled.

He cleared his throat.

“You are heading in the wrong direction,” he murmured. “That’s not even the right genre.”

I glanced at the side of the book, my eyes scanning the words I couldn’t read. I looked up and tried to find words that resembled this one.

Lucian stepped closer to me.

He pointed at the word in the book.

“What does that say?” He asked, his tone low and non-judging, but it felt the opposite.

“What is this, a test?” I asked, letting out a humorless laugh.

“It’s a question.”

I stared at the word he was pointing at, my lips eager to move, but no words came out.

He narrowed his eyes, and I nearly melted under the heat of his gaze.

“You can’t read… can you?”