THH Book1-The Lost Princess

The rain drizzled against the café window, painting streaks across the glass as people hurried past on the pavement outside. The sky was a heavy, unforgiving gray, the kind that pressed down like a weight, and the scent of damp wool and freshly brewed coffee filled the air. It was warm inside, the quiet hum of conversation mingling with the soft clatter of cups against saucers.

I curled my fingers around my mug of hot chocolate, letting the warmth seep into my hands as I stared at the swirling patterns in the foam. Across from me, Megan was perched on her chair like a bird ready to swoop into battle, her dark brows furrowed as she pointed accusingly at Will.

“You’re ridiculous,” she declared, jabbing a finger in his direction. “I swear, you believe in every conspiracy theory under the sun but refuse to accept that astrology might have some scientific basis.”

Will scoffed, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. “Oh, come on. There’s a massive difference between believing aliens probably exist somewhere in the universe and thinking Mercury being in retrograde is why you stubbed your toe this morning.”

I smirked, taking a sip of my drink. “To be fair, Meg, you did say the other day that your rising sign was responsible for your inability to finish an essay on time.”

Megan gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. “Et tu, Aurora?”

I rolled my eyes at the name. Aurora. A name given to me by social services when I was found as a toddler, abandoned in a field on the outskirts of Nottingham. No last name, no records, no parents to claim me. Just a two-year-old girl in a white dress, barely old enough to speak.

I had no memories of my life before then.

I used to lie awake at night as a child, staring at the ceiling, trying to will myself to remember something—anything—from before the moment the police found me. A face, a voice, a home. But there was nothing.

Just a hollow space where a past should be.

Now, at seventeen, I was long past hoping for answers.

“You guys are both idiots,” I said with a grin, shaking off the familiar melancholy. “Now, can we please pretend we’re studious A-level students for once and actually revise?”

Will ignored me, his phone buzzing in his hand. He glanced at the screen, and a slow grin spread across his face. “Speaking of studying—our DNA results just came in.”

My stomach twisted.

I’d almost forgotten about the test.

A few weeks ago, Megan had convinced us all to send in DNA samples to 23andMe—just for fun, she’d said. She and Will were both curious about their ancestry, wondering what parts of the world their families had originated from.

For them, it was just an experiment.

For me, it was a tiny, nagging hope that I wasn’t just a girl who appeared out of nowhere.

I pulled out my phone, my hands tightening around it as I opened my email. A loading symbol spun on the screen for a few agonizing seconds.

Then, the results appeared.

99.9% Match to a Biological Relative.

The world seemed to tilt.

I sat up straighter, my breath catching. My heartbeat roared in my ears.

“What?” I whispered, my fingers gripping the edge of the table.

“What’s wrong?” Megan asked, peering at my screen.

I couldn’t answer. My entire body had gone numb.

The screen displayed a name—but it was private. All it said was:

Immediate Family (Parent or Sibling).

I had family.

Someone—somewhere—was related to me.

A wave of nausea washed over me. I’d spent my entire life believing that no one had been looking for me. That I was just a forgotten child, lost in the system. But now—

Now, someone had taken this test.

And they had been matched to me.

I clicked on the match, my hands shaking. A notification popped up.

New Message: Urgent Inquiry Regarding DNA Results

My breath stalled.

I clicked it open, feeling like I was falling through open air.

To whom it may concern,

This is an urgent matter regarding the DNA test you submitted. Please contact me at the number below immediately. It is of the utmost importance.

The message was signed:

Elias Whitmore.

The name meant nothing to me. But something about the formality of the message—something about the urgency—sent a shiver through me.

Will frowned, leaning over to look at my phone. “Who’s Elias Whitmore?”

“I don’t know,” I murmured. My voice felt distant, as if it belonged to someone else.

“Did—did you match with someone?” Megan asked, eyes wide.

I could only nod.

Will’s expression shifted, his easygoing demeanor faltering. “Aurora… I thought you didn’t have any family.”

“So did I,” I whispered.

The café suddenly felt too warm, too loud. My pulse pounded in my ears. I forced myself to take a shaky breath, trying to shove down the tidal wave of emotions crashing over me.

Maybe it was a mistake.

Maybe the test had glitched.

Or maybe—just maybe—this was the answer I had been waiting for my entire life.

The next day, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming.

I barely paid attention in lessons, my thoughts consumed by the message, the match, the unknown person on the other end of that DNA test.

It wasn’t until lunchtime that my world turned completely upside down.

I was walking through the school corridors with Megan when the headteacher’s voice crackled through the speakers.

“Would Aurora Williams please come to the main office immediately? This is an urgent matter.”

I stopped mid-step.

Megan frowned. “Uh… what did you do?”

“I—nothing,” I said slowly.

But my stomach twisted.

I turned and headed toward the office, my heart hammering with every step. The school secretary barely looked up when I arrived. “Go right in, dear.”

Go right in? That was unusual.

I pushed open the office door—and froze.

Sitting across from the headteacher was a man in a dark navy suit. He looked to be in his early forties, with neatly combed dark hair, sharp features, and an expression so serious it sent an immediate wave of unease through me.

His gaze met mine instantly, assessing, calculating.

“Miss Williams?” he asked, standing.

I swallowed, gripping the doorframe. “Yes?”

“I apologize for the abruptness of this meeting.” His voice was smooth, practiced. He reached into the inner pocket of his suit and pulled out a leather-bound folder. “My name is Elias Whitmore. I work on behalf of the royal family of Valeria.”

Valeria.

A distant country. A name I had only ever heard in news reports.

I frowned. “What does that have to do with me?”

Elias exhaled slowly. “I believe you may be their missing princess.”

I laughed. I actually laughed. A sharp, incredulous sound. “What?”

“I understand this is difficult to process,” Elias said evenly. “But your DNA test confirmed a direct match to the royal family of Valeria. The king has been searching for you for over fifteen years.”

Something inside me cracked.

“This has to be a mistake,” I murmured.

Elias shook his head and slid a photograph across the desk toward me.

A toddler with soft curls and wide, bright eyes stared up at me. She was wearing a delicate white dress, her small hands clutching the edge of a chair.

But it wasn’t just the photo that sent my head spinning.

It was the birthmark on her wrist.

A birthmark identical to mine.

The room tilted.

A cold, dizzying sensation swept through me.

And then, as if my body had given up on trying to process the impossible—

Everything went black.