Chapter 74

I wake before the sun rises, knowing that I need to be ready to face my peers. I have been stripped of my titles and they will wonder why. My promotions put me in the spotlight, sure, but I’m sure that gossip will feel like nothing compared to what it is now that I’ve lost them.

I wash and dress quickly, wanting to be the first to early. It will be better if I don’t have to watch them stare as I walk in. The pale light filtering in through the window makes the room look colder than it is.

There’s no time to feel weak. I’ve already lost my title as acting captain. I won’t let them see me sweat.

I’m at the guard station fifteen minutes early. No one comments, though a few glance up from their posts as I enter. I nod once and keep walking, eyes ahead.

The rest of the room fills gradually, and I step to the side of the room, out of the way. Kaine walks in last.

He doesn’t look at me. His eyes scan the room, jaw set. When he speaks, his voice is hard and impersonal.

“Route adjustments have been finalized. Rotations will begin at dusk.”

He gives out assignments. I wait for my name. It never comes.

He finishes the meeting and dismisses the room. There are no questions.

I turn with the others and walk out without speaking. My hands stay at my sides, fists clenched tight. I stay toward the back of the group listening for my name.

I shouldn’t let it get to me. I won’t be at the palace much longer, but I can’t help the frustration that swells within me.

I have only ever wanted to be a guard, to be respected, and now that respect has been thrown out the window by Kaine’s half baked accusation. None of the guards around me will hold my gaze. They may not know what happened, but they know it must have been bad for Kaine to take over my duties.

The rest of the morning passes slowly. I return to my office, but there’s less work now. My access to reports has been limited at Kaine’s request. I still have clearance to follow up on the Chantarelle investigation, but I have to request everything manually.

I spend hours combing through older records looking for potential movement from the former Lord Chantarelle, logging every inconsistency. I write questions in the margins, underline names that feel wrong. It’s the only part of my role that hasn’t been taken from me, and I pour myself into it.

Jake stops by briefly, dropping off a file. I ask if there are any updates on the legal status of the Chantarelle lands.

He hesitates, then says, “You’ll have to go through Kaine directly.” I don’t react. I just nod and thank him.

Jake gives me a look like he wants to say something else, but he leaves without adding more. I know he wants to believe me, but he’s been cautious lately. I can feel the change in our dynamic.

By the afternoon, the nausea returns. I force myself to eat a small lunch in my office, but every bite is a struggle. I try to drink water, but even that aggravates my stomach further.

My body feels heavier than it did yesterday. My limbs ache. I breathe shallowly and focus on the pages in front of me, reading the same paragraph twice before the meaning sinks in.

Eventually, I stand and step out into the corridor. I find an alcove near the records room and lean against the wall. The cold stone helps.

“You can’t keep this up,” Nara says gently.

I just need a few more weeks.

Silence.

I straighten when I hear footsteps and return to my desk. I file away the newer reports and rewrite one of my earlier summaries, tightening the language and removing anything that might give Kaine anything else to complain about.

By the time the sun begins to set, I’m called to Kaine’s office.

The summons doesn’t come with any explanation. Just a note in the hand of a junior guard. I tuck it into my belt and walk the path I’ve walked a hundred times. My boots echo softly against the stone, louder in my ears than they should be.

When I enter, Kaine doesn’t stand. He doesn’t offer a greeting.

“These were unclear,” he says, gesturing to the stack of files in front of him. “There were discrepancies in your source citations. I need clarification.”

I step forward and glance at the page. “Those records were from the secondary archive. They predate the others by two years. The name changes align with the first recorded exile notice.”

Kaine doesn’t look up. “Why wasn’t that noted in the margin?”

“I thought the document reference would be sufficient.”

“You thought wrong.”

I bite back the first response that comes to mind. We review three more pages in near silence. When he does speak is questions are pointed, accusatory.

When he accuses me of withholding documents, I set the file down and fold my arms.

“I’ve dedicated more time into this case than either you or Jake,” I say. “I’ve put in more hours, asked more questions, chased down good leads that you wanted to ignore.”

“I’m not questioning your work ethic,” Kaine replies. “I’m questioning your judgment.”

“That’s a convenient distinction.”

His jaw tenses. “I can’t take chances. Not now.”

“And I’m tired of being treated like a threat,” I snap. “After everything I’ve done. Everything I’ve risked. You don’t trust me. Say it out loud.”

He doesn’t answer.

I push back from the desk and start toward the door. My heart pounds, but my steps are steady.

At the threshold, I pause and glance back.

“This is the second time I’ve been accused of treason,” I say, voice low. “When my name is cleared, and it will be, I expect you to remember exactly how you’ve treated me here.”

I don’t wait for a reply. I walk out, slamming the door behind me.

That night, I don’t sleep. I lie in bed with my eyes open, staring at the ceiling. My body aches with exhaustion, but my mind won’t quiet.

Every word from earlier plays on repeat. I think of Kaine’s voice, his suspicion, and the way he couldn’t even look at me when he said he didn’t trust my judgement.

I think about the baby and how my heart aches when I imagine leaving here. I think about how quiet it will be where I’m going.

I tell myself this is just temporary. I just have to hold on a little longer until the investigation is done. I just need to make it until we can tie everything to the queen.

I’ll be able to leave the palace, to leave him. This child will never be his burden and I won’t let him shape my future again.

Tomorrow, I’ll go back to work. I’ll finish what I started.