The walls of my room blurred as tears carved down my cheeks. I sat on the edge of the bed, fists clenched so hard my nails bit into my palms. The afternoon sun tried slipping through the curtains, but I’d closed them tight—there was no room for light. Not today.

My mother had been dead for eight years. Eight years of lies. Eight years of being told it was an illness—"a sickness that took her in the night," my father had said, with rehearsed grief and too-calm eyes.

And now I knew. It was poison. It was betrayal. It was Uncle Varn.

A soft knock echoed at the door. I didn’t answer. Didn’t move.

The door creaked open anyway. Heavy footsteps. I didn’t need to look up to know it was him.

“Destiny…”

I didn’t turn around. “Why are you here?”

“Ivy told me,” my father said quietly.

Of course she did. My sister, the one who always toed the line between loyalty and self-preservation. She’d stayed silent when I’d asked her in front of everyone—but behind closed doors? She spilled everything.

I wiped my face roughly. “So?” I whispered. “You came to confirm it? That everything you told me was a lie?”

King Lurchester exhaled, stepping farther into the room. “I came because you deserve to hear the truth—from me. Not from gossiping maids behind a pillar.”

I slowly turned to face him, my heart pounding. “Then say it. Say it all. No more riddles. I want the whole, ugly truth.”

He nodded, lips pressed into a grim line. He looked older than I’d ever seen him—like the truth had aged him too. He sat down in the chair near my bed, elbows on knees.

“Eight years ago,” he began, “your mother—Queen Vivienne—was loved by many. Too many. She was a Saintess before she was my wife. And during that time… she met your uncle Varn.”

I flinched at the name.

“He loved her. Obsessively,” my father continued. “And when she chose me over him… something in him shattered. He disguised it well, of course. Varn was always the charming one. Smiled too much. Laughed just enough. But behind that mask…” He shook his head. “He couldn’t let her go.”

My voice cracked. “So he tried to kill you?”

He nodded. “We found out later—a maid had been paid handsomely to poison my wine. Only she… confused the cups.”

“And she drank it instead,” I whispered.

My father’s jaw clenched. “She died in my arms. It was the only moment I’ve ever begged the gods for anything. And they… they didn’t listen.”

He looked away, blinking hard.

“I was furious,” he said. “I wanted Varn dead. But he vanished. Fled the kingdom before I could act. Rumor said he joined a pirate fleet—took to the sea like a coward. He’s still out there, Destiny. And he knows what he did.”

I swallowed thickly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you were ten,” he said sharply. “Because you were grieving. Because I thought you needed something clean to hold onto—some gentler version of the truth to help you sleep.”

I stood, heart raging. “No. You thought I couldn’t handle it. You never trusted me to be strong.”

Silence. Heavy and unyielding.

Then his voice softened. “I made a mistake. I thought protecting you meant hiding the pain. But I see now—that was weakness. Not yours. Mine.”

Tears threatened again. But I refused to let them fall.

“I want to find him,” I said. “Varn. I want to face him. I want to look in his eyes and see if he’s still a monster.”

He stood slowly, his eyes hardening again, retreating behind the steel walls of a king—not a father.

"You speak like a warrior," he said, almost with admiration. But then his voice cooled. “But you’re not one. Not yet.”

I lifted my chin. “I’m not asking for permission.”

He stepped forward, and his voice dropped into that deep, commanding tone that could silence courts and armies alike. “You will not go after Varn. It’s too far, too dangerous, and frankly—foolish. You have duties here. A marriage to prepare for. A kingdom watching you.”

I crossed my arms. “I never agreed to that marriage.”

“You don’t have to agree,” he snapped, then closed his eyes and sighed. “You’re my daughter. My heir. You are not… some wild girl with a blade and a vendetta.”

“I’m your daughter,” I said bitterly. “That should mean I have your fire.”

He looked at me for a long time. “It means you have responsibilities. You are not leaving this kingdom. That’s final.”

I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood. “Fine,” I said quietly. “I understand.”

He studied me one last time, as if he wasn’t sure whether I was agreeing or conceding. Then he turned and walked toward the door. At the threshold, he paused.

“I kept the truth from you for too long. But I won’t let it twist you. Varn is already a curse in our bloodline. I won’t let him take you too.”

And with that, he was gone.

The door shut with a soft click. I sat still for several seconds, staring at the wooden panels like they might open again—like he might say, I changed my mind.

But he didn’t.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

“I lied,” I whispered to the quiet.