Chapter 1
I was only twelve years old when I first heard the story of how my mother died. It wasn’t from my father, the King of Dawnburne, or any of the other adults in the palace. It was from one of the cooks, a gruff old woman named Helen who had taken me under her wing and taught me how to make pastries. I remember sitting on the floor in the kitchen, watching as Helen expertly rolled out a pie crust, and suddenly asking her the question that had been on my mind for some time.
“Do you think someone is trying to kill me?”
Helen’s hands stilled on the dough and she looked up at me, her eyes narrowing.
“Who told you that?”
It wasn’t a denial, and my heart skipped a beat. So it was true.
“Yes,” she said finally, setting the pie crust aside and pulling me into her lap.
“There are a lot of people who want you dead, Lana.”
“Why?”
‘Because you’re an only child and the heir to a kingdom as massive and wealthy as Dawnburne,’ I thought to myself.
But I didn’t say that aloud and instead asked another question.
“Is it because of what happened to my mother?”
Helen sighed and pulled me closer to her chest.
“Yes. It is.”
My mother had died in childbirth, and rumor was that she had been poisoned by someone who wanted my father dead.
At that time, I was too young to understand, so I had just nodded along. Now that I’m older, I need to know who it is if I’m the next target. I found Helen in the small and dimly lit pantry. The pantry was private and Helen knew that no one would be able to hear us in here. I walked inside quietly and closed the door. She immediately knew why I was there.
“What do you know about what happened to your mother?”
“I know that she died in childbirth,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“And that there are people who want me dead.”
Helen nodded slowly, her eyes darting back and forth between mine.
“I don’t know much,” she said finally.
“But I have heard things. Whispers in the hallways at night. Conversations between guards. It seems that there are many who are unhappy with your father’s rule.”
“Who?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.
“Noble families from the northern provinces,” she said quietly.
“They believe that they should be ruling Dawnburne, not your father.”
“Lord Blackthorn?” I asked, my voice shaking slightly.
Lord Blackthorn was a powerful nobleman from the northern provinces who had long been rumored to have his sights set on the throne of Dawnburne.
Helen nodded again, her eyes filled with sadness.
“Yes. Lord Blackthorn is one of them.”
We both jumped at the sound of a crash coming from outside of the pantry. Helen quickly pushed me behind her and stood tall, ready to face whatever danger was coming our way. I press against Helen’s back as she inches the heavy wooden door open. Her broad frame blocks my view of the kitchen, but I can hear the clatter of pots and pans as someone moves quickly around the room.
The air in the pantry is musty and stale, and I have to hold my breath to keep from sneezing. The smell of dried herbs and preserved fruits hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the scent of freshly baked bread that wafts in from the kitchen.
I strain my ears, trying to make out what is happening on the other side of the door. There is a loud clatter, followed by the sound of footsteps hurrying across the stone floor. I can hear voices whispering, but I can’t make out what they are saying. Helen’s hand tightens on the door handle, and I can feel her body tense with fear.
Through the narrow gap between the door and its frame, I see a shadow dart past - too quick to make out any defining features, but definitely deliberate in its movement. Helen starts to close the door again, but I grab her arm to stop her.
“Wait,” I whisper urgently.
“I think I know that voice.”
Helen shakes her head, her eyes wide with warning.
But I’ve already wedged my foot into the doorway, holding it open just enough to see what’s happening in the kitchen.
“Lana, you mustn’t,” Helen hisses, her voice barely audible.
“If it is, then we’re in more danger than we thought,” she replies, her grip on my arm tightening.
I push the door wider, ignoring Helen’s desperate tugging on my sleeve.
The kitchen is eerily quiet now, with only the soft bubbling of soup on the stove breaking the silence. Afternoon sunlight streams in through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room. Pots and pans are scattered on the floor near the hearth, and I can see a broken plate in the corner. My heart is racing as I edge forward, keeping close to the wall.
“But I need to know if it’s him,” I insist, my heart pounding in my chest.
Suddenly, a shadow moves behind the kitchen counter, and I freeze. Helen’s sharp intake of breath makes me turn, just as a cloaked figure darts through the servant’s entrance. I lunge forward to follow, but Helen grabs me around the waist and physically restrains me.
I freeze, my eyes fixed on the figure as they turn to glance back at us. The sunlight catches on something metallic in his hand, and I realize with a jolt of fear that he is holding a dagger. Helen’s grip tightens around me, her breath coming in short gasps. The figure pauses for a moment, assessing the situation. Then, to my horror, he takes a step forward.
I struggle against Helen’s hold, my eyes fixed on the glinting blade. The figure takes another step closer, his hood falling away slightly to reveal a glimpse of his face. My heart skips a beat as I recognize the intense eyes of Raven, the suitor who had been so attentive at the ball. Helen pulls me backward toward the pantry, but I resist.
I need to know why Raven is here, and what he wants with me.
“Raven,” I shout, my voice echoing off the stone walls.
“What are you doing here?”
Raven’s gaze locks onto mine, and for a moment, I see a flicker of recognition in their eyes. I watch Raven’s every move as he slowly lowers the dagger. A strange smile spreads across his face, sending a shiver down my spine.
He takes a step forward, and I instinctively back away, bumping into the kitchen counter. Helen’s grip on my arm tightens, but I shake her off. I need to face Raven alone.
“What are you doing here?” my voice is steady despite the fear coursing through me.
Raven pauses, his eyes scanning the room before settling back on me.
I watch as Raven’s smile grows wider, his eyes glinting with an unsettling intensity. He takes another step forward, and I find myself pushed aside by a sudden movement. I stumble backward, my heart racing, and land hard against the kitchen counter. Raven moves swiftly, their dagger flashing in the afternoon light. Helen tries to step between us, but it’s too late.
The blade plunges into her heart, and she crumples to the floor with a soft cry. I scream, reaching out for Helen as she falls. Blood pools on the floor around her, and I feel a wave of nausea wash over me. Raven stands over her body, their expression unreadable. I back away slowly, my heart pounding in my chest. I need to get out of here, to find help before it’s too late.
But my legs feel heavy, as if they’re rooted to the spot. Raven takes a step closer, their eyes fixed on me with an unnerving intensity. I can see the glint of metal in their hand as they raise the dagger again. I know I have to move, but my body feels frozen in place. Suddenly, I hear a noise behind me and turn to see the servants’ door swing open.
It’s now or never. I dart through the servants’ door, slamming it shut behind me and sprinting down the dim hallway. My heart pounds in my chest as I run, the sound of my footsteps echoing off the stone walls. I glance back over my shoulder, half-expecting to see Raven following close behind, but the corridor is empty. I reach a junction and pause, listening for any sign of movement.
The silence is oppressive, and I can feel my breath coming in ragged gasps. I take a deep breath and choose the left path, hoping it will lead me to safety. I stumble down the left hallway, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The corridor stretches out before me, lined with ancient tapestries and flickering torches that cast eerie shadows on the walls.
I glance back over my shoulder, half-expecting to see Raven’s shadowy form following close behind, but the passage remains empty. My legs tremble beneath me as I force myself to keep moving, each step echoing off the cold stone walls. The weight of Helen’s death presses down on me, guilt and fear tangling together in my chest like a living thing.
I can still see her face in my mind, her eyes wide with shock as she fell to the floor. I push the image away, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. I can’t afford to let myself get caught up in grief now, not when I’m still running for my life. The hallway stretches out before me, seemingly endless. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, and my breath comes in ragged gasps.
I round a corner and spot a heavy wooden door at the end of the corridor. It looks old and worn, as if it hasn’t been opened in years. I force myself to keep moving, my legs trembling beneath me as I make my way towards the door. I reach it and push it open, stepping through into a small storage room filled with dusty crates and boxes.
I slam the door shut behind me and lean against it, panting heavily as I try to catch my breath. The room is dimly lit by a single torch on the wall, casting flickering shadows across the dusty crates and boxes stacked haphazardly around me.
“Why did you do it, Raven?” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart.
Raven’s voice drifts through the door, calm and unhurried,“Because Helen knew too much, and now so do you.”
I swallow hard, realizing the full weight of his words,
“What is it that I’m not supposed to know?”
There’s a pause, and then Raven’s voice comes again, “I’m not supposed to tell you that. But I suppose it doesn’t matter now. Helen discovered that I was the one who killed your mother.”
My breath catches in my throat as I listen to his words. The assassin who killed my mother is here, in the castle, and they’re coming for me next.
