Chapter 5: The Woman Who Carried the Princess
The next morning, rain beat against the palace windows.
Queen Eleanor had not slept.
Neither had Adrian.
The physician's confession had changed everything. If the person responsible for Liora's disappearance was still alive, then the attack in the chapel had not been an isolated attempt.
It was the beginning of something far more dangerous.
Inside the royal council chamber, Adrian stood before a group of ministers.
“Until the investigation is complete, all royal records concerning the nursery fire will remain sealed.””
Lord Malcolm rose immediately.
“Your Highness, are we now to believe that a servant's appearance before a crystal sculpture gives her authority over the kingdom?””
Adrian's eyes narrowed.
“No one has given her authority over anything.””
“Then why has the entire palace been placed under guard because of her?””
“Because someone attempted to murder the queen.””
Malcolm adjusted his silver signet ring.
“And what does that have to do with the maid?””
“Ask the men who fired the arrows.””
A few ministers exchanged uneasy glances.
Malcolm leaned forward.
“Your Highness, forgive my bluntness, but the kingdom cannot be governed by mysterious inscriptions and emotional reactions.””
Adrian approached the council table.
“Nor can it be governed by men who pretend seventeen years of history never happened.””
The room fell silent.
Malcolm's expression hardened.
“Careful, Your Highness.””
Adrian stopped directly in front of him.
“I would suggest the same.””
Before the duke could respond, the chamber doors opened.
Queen Eleanor entered, supported by a golden walking stick.
Her injured arm was hidden beneath a dark velvet sleeve.
Every minister stood.
“Your Majesty.””
Eleanor took her place at the head of the table.
“I have heard enough.””
Malcolm bowed.
“Your Majesty, I was simply expressing concern—”
“You were questioning my judgment.””
“I would never—”
“Then you should have chosen your words more carefully.””
She placed a sealed document on the table.
“This is an order for a complete review of the royal nursery records, the old medical archives, and every correspondence involving Chancellor Varrick.””
Several ministers looked shocked.
Lord Malcolm did not move.
“Why reopen a tragedy that was settled seventeen years ago?””
Eleanor turned toward him.
“Because the child who disappeared is standing in my palace.””
The duke's expression remained composed, but his fingers tightened around his signet ring.
“Surely Your Majesty cannot be certain.””
“No. But I intend to find out.””
Elia spent the morning in the queen's private sitting room.
She had been given a clean dress, soft shoes, and a warm breakfast.
Yet she had barely touched the food.
The unfamiliar luxury made her uncomfortable.
A servant had tried to help her dress, but Elia had insisted on fastening the buttons herself.
She was still the same girl who had spent years washing floors and carrying trays.
A silk dress did not change that.
Queen Eleanor entered quietly.
“Good morning, Elia.””
Elia stood.
“Good morning, Your Majesty.””
“Please, sit.””
The queen noticed the untouched breakfast.
“Are you not hungry?””
“I am, Your Majesty.””
“Then why haven't you eaten?””
Elia looked at the silver plate.
“I don't know which fork to use.””
For the first time since the chapel attack, Eleanor smiled.
She sat opposite the young woman.
“You can use whichever fork you like. This is not a royal examination.””
Elia glanced down.
“I've never eaten breakfast in a room like this.””
“Neither had I, when I was your age.””
Elia looked up in surprise.
“You were once poor, Your Majesty?””
“My family had a title, but very little money. My father lost most of our lands in a war. I spent several years sharing a room with my sisters.””
The queen poured tea.
“Royal life is not always as grand as it appears.””
Elia wrapped both hands around the warm cup.
“May I ask you something?””
“Anything.””
“Do you truly believe I am your daughter?””
Eleanor's hand stopped.
She looked at the young woman across the table.
“I believe I have been searching for you for seventeen years.””
“But what if the crystal was wrong?””
“Then I will accept the truth.””
“And if it was right?””
The queen's eyes filled.
“Then I have lost seventeen years with my child.””
Elia lowered her gaze.
“I don't know how to be a princess.””
Eleanor reached across the table.
“Neither did you know how to be a maid before someone taught you.””
A small, uncertain smile appeared on Elia's face.
The queen touched her hand.
“You do not need to become anything for me. Not today.””
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Elia asked the question she had been afraid to ask.
“Did you ever stop looking?””
Eleanor shook her head.
“Not once.””
That afternoon, Master Edmund brought a leather-bound journal into the queen's private library.
The book was old and damaged by water.
Its pages smelled of dust and smoke.
“I kept this in my personal archive,” he explained.
“I wrote down everything I remembered after the nursery fire.””
Adrian stood beside the desk.
“Why didn't you bring it forward years ago?””
“Because I received a threat.””
“From Chancellor Varrick?””
Edmund nodded.
“He told me that if I spoke, my family would suffer.””
Adrian's expression hardened.
“What family?””
“My wife. My daughter. My son.””
The physician opened the journal.
“They were sent away before dawn. I never saw them again.””
Queen Eleanor leaned forward.
“Edmund, I'm sorry.””
The old man shook his head.
“Your Majesty, I made my choice. I lived with it.””
He turned several pages.
“Here. This was written the morning after the fire.””
Adrian read the entry aloud.
“*The nursery was empty. The second cradle remained untouched. No sign of the princess.
Mara Venn was missing. Chancellor Varrick ordered the guards to prevent further questioning.*”
He looked up.
“Second cradle?””
Edmund nodded.
“There were two cradles in the room.””
Elia, who had been standing near the bookshelves, turned sharply.
“Why?””
The physician looked toward the queen.
Eleanor's expression changed.
“Because I had been expecting twins.””
Silence.
Elia felt a chill crawl over her skin.
“Twins?””
The queen nodded slowly.
“My husband and I were told that only one child had survived the difficult birth. Your brother was born first. You were born several minutes later.””
Adrian stared at his mother.
“I had a twin sister?””
The queen's eyes softened.
“Yes.””
He looked at Elia.
The realization settled over him like a weight.
Not simply a missing royal child.
His sister.
His family.
All these years.
He had been living in the same palace where someone had erased her existence.
“Why wasn't I told?”” he asked.
“Because you were five years old. Your father believed that keeping the tragedy from you would protect you.””
Adrian turned away.
“Protect me from what? The truth?””
Eleanor lowered her head.
Edmund closed the journal.
“There is more.””
He took out a small folded map.
“This shows the passage beneath the eastern nursery. It was used by the royal family during the old wars.””
Adrian studied it.
“Where does it lead?””
“To the abandoned chapel beyond the palace walls.””
Elia stepped closer.
“That's where Mara said she had found me.””
Everyone turned.
She swallowed.
“She once told me that I had been found beside an old stone wall. There was a broken bell nearby. She said I was wrapped in a blanket that smelled of roses.””
The queen closed her eyes.
The old chapel stood beside a garden of white roses.
It was where she and the king had planted a memorial tree after Liora disappeared.
“Take us there,” Eleanor ordered.
They entered the abandoned chapel just before sunset.
Rainwater dripped through cracks in the ceiling.
Ivy had crawled across the old stone walls, and the wooden doors creaked in the wind.
Adrian carried a lantern.
Elia walked beside the queen.
The room was small, with only a narrow altar and a broken bell tower.
At the far end, a faded carving depicted a woman holding two children.
Eleanor touched the stone gently.
“This was commissioned by your father.””
Elia looked at the carving.
“Two children?””
“Yes.””
The queen's voice trembled.
“He wanted the world to remember both of you.””
Adrian examined the floor.
“Edmund said there was a passage here.””
He moved a fallen wooden bench.
Beneath it, a small iron ring protruded from the stone.
He pulled.
A narrow trapdoor opened.
Cold air rose from the darkness below.
“I'll go first,” Adrian said.
He descended the steps, holding the lantern.
Elia followed with the queen and two guards.
The passage was narrow and smelled of damp earth.
At the bottom stood a wooden chest.
The lid was decorated with five silver stars.
Elia's palm began to glow.
She stopped.
“Your Highness…”
Adrian turned.
“What is it?””
“The marks.””
The five golden lines were shining again.
He approached the chest.
The iron lock had no keyhole. Instead, a small hand-shaped indentation had been carved into the lid.
Elia stared at it.
“I think it wants me to touch it.””
“Wait,” Adrian said.
But the young woman had already placed her palm against the wooden surface.
A soft click sounded.
The lock released.
The chest opened.
Inside lay a faded white blanket, a silver bell, and a small wooden doll.
Elia reached for the blanket.
Her fingers trembled.
A familiar smell rose from the fabric.
White roses.
Beneath it lay a letter addressed in elegant handwriting.
*To my daughters, when they are old enough to understand.*
Queen Eleanor sank to her knees.
Adrian unfolded the letter.
But before he could read it, Elia noticed something stitched into the corner of the blanket.
A small piece of fabric.
It carried an embroidered name.
Not Liora.
Not Elia.
A different name.
*Isabelle.*
“Mother,” Adrian whispered.
The queen looked up.
The color drained from her face.
“That name,” she said, barely breathing, “was never supposed to appear.””
Back in the palace, Lord Malcolm stood before a locked cabinet in his private study.
He removed a hidden key from his signet ring.
Inside the cabinet rested a collection of old documents.
One was a birth record.
Another was a royal order bearing the late king's signature.
And at the bottom lay a portrait of two newborn girls.
Malcolm stared at it.
Then he unfolded a fresh message delivered that morning.
The handwriting was familiar.
The queen has opened the old chapel. The second child may have been found.
Malcolm burned the message in the fireplace.
He picked up the portrait.
His eyes stopped on the baby wearing a tiny silver bracelet.
“No,” he murmured.
He reached for a small bell and rang it twice.
An elderly servant appeared.
“My lord?””
Malcolm handed him a sealed envelope.
“Send this to the northern estate.””
“Who should receive it?””
May you like
Malcolm looked toward the burning fireplace.
“Someone who was supposed to have died seventeen years ago.””
