“We’ve arrived, Your Highness.”

My eyes opened immediately.

For a moment, I didn’t remember where I was. Then I felt the carriage moving beneath me, and everything came rushing back.

Elizabeth.

I pushed myself upright and looked through the carriage window.

My breath caught.

Elizabeth’s castle stood before me.

It was enormous.

Towers stretched toward the sky, their tips disappearing into the morning mist. Golden pillars surrounded the entrance, and intricate carvings covered almost every visible surface. Warriors. Kings. Battles. Victories.

Everything seemed designed to tell the same story.

Elizabeth had power.

And Elizabeth wanted everyone to know it.

I stared at the castle as the carriage came to a stop.

It was beautiful.

But there was something about it that made my chest tighten.

I felt it. A presence. It was dark, cold, oppressive and it made me want to curl into a ball and disappear. My eyes drifted toward one of the castle windows.

It was open. I couldn't see anyone. But I knew someone was there, watching me.

I swallowed.

“Your Highness?”

I tore my eyes away from the window. Captain Alistair stood beside the carriage, waiting.

“Shall we, Your Highness?”

I nodded and stepped down.

The moment my feet touched the ground, I felt as though I had crossed some invisible boundary.

I was no longer in George, I was in Elizabeth. And I was alone.

Captain Alistair led me through the enormous entrance.

The inside of the castle was even more extravagant than the outside. Crystal chandeliers hung from ceilings so high I could barely see where they ended. The walls were covered in flawless carvings, and enormous paintings decorated almost every corridor. 

I barely had time to take it all in before I heard footsteps.

A young girl came walking down the grand staircase. Her long silver hair pinned back with tiny golden-white flowers. Her skin was pale, almost porcelain beneath the castle's warm lighting. Her raven black dress swept behind her as she walked

She was beautiful.

She stopped halfway down the stairs and looked at Captain Alistair.

“I'll take it from here.”

Captain Alistair immediately bowed.

“Of course, my princess.”

He glanced at me.

“Your Highness.”

I nodded.

Then he left.

The moment he disappeared around the corner, the girl's entire expression changed.

She giggled. “Oh, that was fun.”

I blinked.

She hurried down the rest of the stairs, practically bouncing.

“I can be a snob when I want to be.”

I stared at her.

She grinned. “Well?”

I found the question spilling out before I could stop it, “Was that supposed to impress me?”

She gasped dramatically. “Prince Luca, I'm wounded.”

I couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my lips.

She laughed. “I like you already.” Then she held out her hand. “Princess Abigail.”

My etiquette kicked in and I took it and placed a soft kiss on the top. 

“Prince Luca.”

She giggled, withdrawing her hand. “Oh, please. No formalities.”

Before I could respond, she grabbed my wrist.

“Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“To your room, off course.”

She pulled me along as though we'd known each other for years.

I looked around as we walked.

The hallway was lined with portraits.

King James.

The Queen.

Princess Abigail.

Generations of Elizabeth's royal family going back centuries. 

But there was something missing.

I slowed.

There was no portrait of the Prince. In fact, there was no portrait of A Prince 

Not one.

My stomach tightened.

Abigail noticed.

“You're looking for my brother.”

I looked at her.

“I didn't say anything.”

“You didn't have to.”

She smiled.

Then she continued walking.

“Come on.”

She led me to a set of enormous double doors.

“This is yours.”

I stepped inside.

The room was larger than my entire bedroom back home. A massive bed stood against the far wall, surrounded by dark blue curtains. There was a fireplace, a sitting area, a writing desk, and tall windows overlooking the gardens.

I stared. “This is my room?”

Abigail nodded. “It's the North wing. The one closet to that of the Prince. You are his Consort after all.”

Consort.

The word felt strange.

But that is what I am isn't it? 

“Well,” Abigail said, “it's late. You should sleep. I'll show you around properly later.”

She smiled before leaving. The door closed behind her.

I stood there alone. And like a companion, that presence surrounded me again. It filled the room, the air, my lungs like a poisonous fog. 

I felt suffocated. 

I swallowed down bile rising in my throat and climbed into bed. I didn't care that I was still in my robes. I just pulled the covers over myself and shut my eyes tight, fighting the burn behind them.

What had I gotten myself into?

I was woken by a soft knock.I blinked slowly, disoriented for a moment.

“Your Highness?” a quiet voice called from behind the door. “May we enter? ”

I sat up, smoothing my hair out of my face. “Yes. Enter.”

The door opened. 

Two young girls stepped inside. They looked to be around my age, both dressed in neat navy-blue dresses with white collars and their hair pinned neatly away from their faces.

They weren't ordinary palace servants. Their posture was too straight, their movements too practiced. They carried themselves with the quiet confidence of people who had been trained specifically to serve the royal family.

They bowed.

“Good morning, Your Highness.”

I blinked. “Morning?”

I turned to look at the window where a thin ray of sunshine had escaped the curtains and was illuminating the room. 

Oh. I had slept through the previous day and into the next. 

I turned back to the two maids. “Good morning.”

“My name is Isolde,” the first girl said. 

“And I am Adelaide,” the other added. She was pale 

“We've been assigned as your personal maids.”

I frowned.

“My personal maids?”

Adelaide nodded.

“It is customary for members of the royal family to have personal attendants here in Elizabeth.”

I glanced between them.

“Oh.”

Back home, I did everything myself unless it was a formal occasion. Apparently, Elizabeth did things very differently from George.

“Please don’t worry—we are simply here to assist.” Isolde said, as if anticipating my discomfort. 

Adelaide carried a silver basin of warm water to the table beside the window, steam rising softly from it. Isolde began arranging fresh towels and a neatly folded set of clothes on a chair.

“We’ll be very quick, my prince,” Adelaide assured kindly. “If you’re uncomfortable, you may tell us at any time.”

Their politeness eased the awkwardness I felt.

I stood from the bed, rubbing sleep from my eyes. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

They washed me carefully and respectfully, never once making me feel exposed or embarrassed. Their movements were practiced but gentle, and the warm water helped lift some of the heaviness still clinging from yesterday.

Once I was clean, Isolde helped me into a fresh set of clothes—simple yet elegant, in the dark colors of Elizabeth’s attire. Adelaide brushed my hair back into a neat style, humming softly under her breath, reminding me of Lydia back home. When Adelaide finished brushing my hair, she stepped back.

“You look handsome, Your Highness.”

I felt my cheeks warm. “Thank you.”

Adelaide smiled.

“Princess Abigail should be here shortly.” she said. 

“We shall take our leave now.”

The two bowed and were gone. 

I sat there, just staring at my reflection in the mirror. 

And then, there was another knock on the door.

I turned to it. “Enter.”

The door opened and Abigail stepped inside. She was wearing a sleeveless dark-blue robe that almost looked black, her hair falling loosely over her shoulders.

“There you are!” She smiled brightly. “Ready?”

I nodded.

She immediately took my hand and pulled me up from the stool. 

“Good. Let's go.”

And she meant it.

Abigail showed me everything.

The kitchens.

The library.

Then another library.

And another.

And somehow, another.

“Four libraries?” I asked.

“Six,” Abigail corrected.

I stopped walking.

“Six?”

She nodded proudly.

“Father's private library isn't open to everyone. Same goes for my brother's private library.”

We visited the ballroom, three smaller ballrooms, several sitting rooms, a sunroom, the greenhouses, and eventually the stables.

I was beginning to wonder if the castle had an end.

Eventually, Abigail led me into a private garden. We sat beneath an apple tree.

I looked around.

Flowers covered almost every corner.

“This garden is beautiful.”

Abigail smiled. “I planted everything myself.”

I looked at her. “Everything?”

“Every flower. Every tree.”

She sounded incredibly proud of herself.

Then she started pointing. “That one is my favorite.”

She pointed toward a cluster of white flowers.

“My brother planted that one.”

I looked at another.

“And those?” Another patch of flowers. “He chose those.”

Another tree.

“He used to sit there when he was younger.”

Another flower.

“He likes those.”

It was strange.

Almost everywhere I looked, Abigail found a way to mention her brother.

She adored him.

And somehow, without even realizing it, she was making sure I knew he was here.

Somewhere.

Inside this enormous castle.

I looked down at the plate of dessert sitting beside me.

I hadn't touched it.

Abigail noticed.

“You haven't eaten.”

“I’m not very hungry.”

She studied me.

“You're afraid.”

I looked at her.

She wasn't smiling anymore.

“I know why you're here, Luca.”

My heart sank.

I knew this conversation was coming eventually.

“Things weren't supposed to happen this way,” she continued quietly. “At least, not like this.”

I said nothing.

“You've heard the rumors about my brother.”

I swallowed.

Everyone had heard them.

That he was a monster.

That a demon lived inside him.

That he was cursed.

That there were many women who had been promised to him. But those women had either ran away...or killed themselves.

Abigail looked down at her hands.

“They aren't merely rumors, Luca.”

My stomach twisted.

She looked back at me.

“It’s true, Luca.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“Every word of it.”