The morning sun streams through the breakfast room windows as I spread jam across toast I have no intention of eating.
My appetite has been inconsistent at best since arriving at the Valmont estate, but I've learned that pushing food around my plate draws less attention than leaving it untouched entirely.
Duke Phideus enters with a folded parchment in his hand, its red wax seal already broken and gleaming in the light. He sets it beside his plate with careful precision, then settles into his chair at the head of the table.
"I received an invitation two days ago," he says without preamble. Kyrell and Maren both look up from their meals, sensing the weight in his tone. "From Crown Prince Leander of Reaton. His coronation ceremony will be held in three to four weeks, timed to coincide with the Festival of the First Harvest."
"You're not seriously considering going," Maren says, her fork suspended midway to her mouth. "After what they did to…" She glances at me, then back to her father. "Father, you can't."
"On the contrary, I must go. I was King Wilius's close friend—practically an uncle to Leander."
Duke Phideus unfolds the invitation, studying it with methodical precision.
"We corresponded regularly, visited often. Refusing this invitation would be suspicious, potentially damaging to House Valmont's standing at a time when we cannot afford to draw unwanted attention."
"So you'll go and smile and bow to the man who stole Sybil's children?" Maren's voice rises with indignation. "Pretend everything is fine while that horrible woman parades them around as—"
"Maren." Kyrell's quiet interruption carries a warning. "Let Father finish."
Duke Phideus nods his thanks to his son before continuing.
"More importantly, this is our opportunity. The coronation brings nobles from across kingdoms. Courts will be crowded with visitors. It's the perfect time to observe without arousing suspicion, to see the court dynamics, to identify the rest of the potential allies."
My heart starts hammering against my ribs. "You really want to go to Reaton. To the coronation."
"Yes, Your Majesty." He meets my eyes directly. "And I want you to come with me."
The room goes completely silent. Even Maren's perpetual energy seems to still as she stares at her father with open shock.
"That's insane," she breathes. "You can't take her back there. They'll recognize her immediately. They'll…"
"They'll see Lady Rosetta of House Valmont," Duke Phideus interrupts calmly. "My ward. A distant relation I've taken under my protection after reunion. The resemblance to the former Crown Princess will be noted, certainly. But resemblances happen. It won't be enough to…"
"It's too dangerous." Kyrell's voice is hard, final. "Father, this is asking too much. Putting her in the same room as the people who destroyed her life, who stole her children… it's cruel."
"It's necessary." Duke Phideus's tone sharpens slightly. "This is reconnaissance, not confrontation. We observe, gather information, see the babies from a distance. We identify which nobles might be sympathetic to our cause when the time comes to reveal the truth."
He turns to me, and his expression softens with something that looks like genuine concern.
"Your Majesty, I would not ask this if I didn't believe it was essential. But we need to understand what we're up against. We need to see the court dynamics, identify weaknesses in Cecily's position, gauge King Leander's state of mind. You are the only one who can give us that insight."
My hands shake in my lap where no one can see them.
The thought of returning to Reaton’s court, of walking those halls again, of seeing Leander wearing his father's crown while Cecily stands beside him as queen… It makes my stomach clench with nausea.
But the thought of seeing my sons, even from a distance, even without being able to touch them...
"What about my real identity?" My voice comes out steadier than I feel. "You said revealing myself prematurely would be dangerous."
"Your real identity as Princess Sybil cannot be revealed yet." Duke Phideus's voice turns firm, brooking no argument. "Not until we have the evidence gathered, allied houses secured, the support we need to back your claim. Revealing yourself prematurely would put you in immediate danger."
He pauses, his gaze heavy with meaning.
"And it also would put your sons in danger. Anyone who wishes death for Princess Sybil would also seek the end of your bloodline through your children. As long as they're believed to be King Leander's heirs and nothing more, they're protected."
Ice floods through my veins. Of course revealing myself would make my sons targets.
They're already valuable as Reaton's heirs, but adding Ziana to the equation would make them prizes worth killing for. Or leverage to use against me.
"So I go as Lady Rosetta," I say slowly. "The Duke's ward. Nothing more."
"Exactly." Relief flashes across his face. "We maintain the fiction. You observe, gather information, see your sons from whatever distance we can manage. Then we leave and continue building our case properly."
"And when people question her presence?" Kyrell asks. His jaw is tight, hands clenched on the table.
"They won't dare touch her." Duke Phideus's voice carries absolute certainty. "She's under our protection now—a distant relative of our family. Anyone who wishes to challenge that will have to go through House Phideus first. And we have allies, resources, and the moral authority of standing with King Wilius's ward."
Maren looks at me with genuine concern. "Sybil, you don't have to do this. If it's too much.."
"I need to see my sons." The words come out before I can stop them. "I need to see them, even if I can't hold them. I need to know they're safe, that they're alive, that they're..."
My voice breaks and I press my lips together hard, forcing back the tears that threaten.
"Then it's settled." Duke Phideus stands, gathering the invitation. "We'll begin preparations immediately. The journey takes four days by carriage. We'll need appropriate wardrobes, gifts for the new king, letters of introduction..."
He continues listing practical matters, but I barely hear him.
All I can think about is facing Leander again. Seeing Cecily. Watching my sons being presented as someone else's children while I stand silent in the crowd.
The breakfast concludes, and everyone disperses to their various duties. I make it as far as the corridor before the shaking becomes too violent to hide. I lean against the wall, pressing one hand to my mouth to keep from making a sound.
"Your Majesty." Kyrell's voice comes from behind me.
I didn't hear him follow, but somehow I'm not surprised he did. I don't turn around, can't face him right now, can't let him see how close I am to completely falling apart.
"What if I can't do it?" The question escapes as barely more than a whisper. "What if I see them and I just... break? What if I scream the truth in front of everyone? What if I can't control myself?"
His footsteps are quiet on the floor as he moves closer. "You have to be strong. You can do this."
"You don't know that." I force myself to turn, to meet his eyes. "You don't know what it's like to have your children stolen. To stand there powerless while someone else claims them as hers…"
"I know." His hands close on my shoulders, firm and grounding. "I know what I'm asking, I know it's impossible. But you can do impossible things, Your Majesty. You've already proven that by surviving this long."
I search his face, looking for the certainty I heard in his voice.
And I find it—absolute conviction that I'm capable of this, that I can maintain control, that I won't shatter. But beneath that certainty, just for a moment, I see something else flicker in his hazel eyes. Doubt, fear. The same terror I'm feeling reflected back at me.
He's worried. They're all worried about my ability to maintain the fiction when my heart is being torn apart.
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