Five

She was the last to arrive.

Her mother sat near the head of the long banquet table, with the king to her left and the prince seated across from him.

The hall, though less extravagant than last night, still gleamed with quiet opulence. Platters of steaming food lined the table, filling the air with sweet spices and the rich scent of butter. Her stomach gave a quiet growl. She’d missed last night’s feast—and she realized just how hungry she was.

“Welcome, child,” said King Veron, his voice warm and commanding. “We’re glad you could join us for breakfast.”

She dipped into a small curtsey, then moved to sit beside her mother.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” came a smooth, pleasant voice.

She looked up—and froze.

Prince Aiden Veron watched her with eyes the color of a deep, steady brown like rain-soaked bark, his boyish grin softening the sharp elegance of his face. Dark brows framed a long, straight nose and dimpled cheeks, his black hair tousled and curling gently at the ends. He really did look like a prince.

Her mother gave a small, deliberate cough. She realized she was staring.

Her face warmed. She averted her gaze and quickly signed, The pleasure’s all mine, then busied herself by scooping generous portions of whatever lay closest to her.

It wasn’t until a beat later that she noticed her mother had not translated her signs. And then she understood: there was no need, not when he could hear her thoughts.

A prickle ran up her spine. So this was what it felt like to dine with those who counseled the crown—bare and exposed. She hated knowing he’d heard her gawking at how handsome he was.

He gave her a knowing smile.

“Don’t worry,” he said, laughter dancing behind his eyes. “I was taught how to read sign language.” He paused, then offered, “We also don’t like to use our powers unless we absolutely have to.”

His smile dimmed slightly. “It can get a little… overwhelming, with all the voices constantly echoing in your mind.”

Her shoulders eased. That was true—her mother didn’t keep her powers on constantly either. It would be exhausting. Most noble families only used their gifts when they felt it absolutely necessary. That line was subjective, of course, but no one was strong enough to wield their power all the time.

She glanced at Aiden, wondering if that was also true for him.

The strongest Veron in history.

“I can only imagine, Your Highness,” her mother replied. “It must be quite a heavy burden to bear.”

He dipped his chin in thanks.

Arrella, finally unable to hold back, dug into her food with great vigor, stuffing her face with little regard for propriety.

Her mother quietly clicked her tongue, while Aiden shot her an amused look.

Well, it wasn’t like she was trying to impress him. And she was starving.

The king smiled with a hint of amusement. “It’s good to see she’s not too nervous to enjoy her breakfast.”

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze settling on her as if considering his next words. “So, Arrella,” he said, “I know it’s impolite to ask about the nature of other powers, but I can’t help but be curious.” He gave her a pointed look.

“You see, it’s not uncommon to hear of a strong heir being born. As you know, each heir is usually more powerful than the last—even if only in the smallest of ways.”

He paused, his gaze distant. “But it’s not often you hear of two heirs said to be the greatest of their line. I never expected my son to be one of them,” he added with a quiet chuckle.

“But he is undeniably strong,” he continued, his voice taking on a thoughtful edge. “He learned to control his powers from an early age.” The king leaned back slightly, his gaze shifting as if weighing his thoughts, his expression deepening.

“Strength like his doesn’t come without a cost. Perhaps it’s because he spent so much of his life trying to meet the expectations placed on him—by others, by his title—that he’s become the prince everyone wanted. Perfect. Polished. Untouchable.”

“You flatter me, Father,” Aiden responded cooly.

“I worried he wouldn’t have anyone to lean on, to share his worries as his equal.” His eyes met hers. “But with you and your powers, I can step down with confidence, knowing you will take care of him. That he will take care of you.”

“Our only aim is to serve, Your Majesty,” her mother replied.

The king tapped his fingers against the table, his gaze sharp and curious. “I’ve heard a lot about you from your mother, but never much about your powers.” He studied her intently. “Tell me, how far does your power lie?”

Arrella glanced at her mother, unsure of what to say. She felt the weight of the king’s gaze, the quiet expectation pressing against her.

“As I’ve mentioned before,” her mother responded slowly, “her strength is too great to be tested on simple studies. She set down her glass of wine with a quiet clink. “You’ve seen firsthand how I use mine—manifesting things, emotions, ideas into existence. Hers is the same, but stronger,” she assured.

She paused, swirling her wine in her glass before continuing, “But you’re also aware of the cost that comes with using one’s powers. Normally, it only affects the user. With Arrella, however, it impacts the entire bloodline. That’s why we’ve kept her from using it too recklessly, else she harms someone.”

She gave the king a measured smile. “I’m sure you understand, Your Majesty.”

“We don’t mean to offend you, Advisor Rumore,” Aiden added quickly. “We appreciate your gracious explanation. We simply wish to get to know Arrella better before our marriage—see what we might have in common.”

He turned to her, his expression softening. “Is there anything you’d like to know about us, Arrella? Or about me?”

She considered his question. Sure, she had a lot of questions about the Veron family—how their powers worked, how they came to power, how far their powers extended. Through her studies, she knew the basics of each of the five families' powers, but not the finer details. But, she also knew that once she became court adviser, she'd become quite familiar with their powers and, as she supposed, their entire backgrounds. After all, once married to him, she’d have plenty of time to learn about his abilities.

So, she asked something that had been on her mind since last night. Have you ever discovered any hidden areas in the castle?

His eyebrows lifted in surprise, and then he tipped his head back with a full, hearty laugh.

“This is your chance to learn the secrets of the Veron power, the king’s power—and that's what you want to ask me?” He smiled, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re quite interesting, Arrella Rumore. I suppose it’s never wise to listen to all the rumors.”

She blushed, averting her gaze and finishing off her plate.

“I can’t tell you all my secret hiding spots,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “But I do know a few common ones that the servants often use.” He gave a small shrug, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “For instance, if you're trying to escape your lessons, there's a small reading room on the third floor, east wing.

“But if you're looking for somewhere more private to just collect your thoughts, there's a hidden alcove at the end of the hall on the second floor. There's a small set of stairs down to it, so it’s hard to miss.”

Arrella’s mind immediately went to the alcove he mentioned. She knew it well—she’d just been there yesterday to meet Jan—and she’d been using it for years without realizing it was so commonly known. She hoped her tutors never stumbled upon it.

So, you’ve never opened a door to a room that wasn’t there before?

He raised an eyebrow. “Like a secret room?” he asked, his curiosity piqued. “I’ve never come across one, but that would be interesting.” He turned slightly serious, asking, “Have you?”

She shook her head quickly, hoping the lie wasn’t obvious. She only prayed her mother’s influence would mask her own untruth—after all, her lie was tied to her powers.

His face shifted back into the easy, carefree grin. “Well, let me know if you ever do. Maybe I’ll show you a few of my own secrets,” he said, his tone light and teasing.

Though he was a few years older, he didn’t talk down to her. He was polite, measured—charming. She could see why people liked him so much.

The conversation shifted, turning to more formal topics—court rulings, orders, and tensions in the rural territories. Something about a small rise in insurrections near the border where the mines were.

Arrella let the words wash over her, her mind drifting. She couldn’t stop thinking about the room she had stumbled across yesterday, and the questions that had been haunting her ever since. Why had she been able to speak there? Who was Rovin Artten, and why could his portrait move?

Eventually, they finished breakfast and parted ways, her mother and King Veron off to start court hearings. Aiden lingered near the entrance. She hesitated, then steeled herself. She couldn’t keep flinching away from him—especially not when they were to be married next year.

“I hope that wasn’t too uncomfortable,” he said as she approached. “My father can be... a lot.” He gave a small shrug. “We’re a curious family by nature. Comes with the power.”

She tilted her head slightly, choosing her words with care. It was… expected. I should’ve known he’d be curious about my powers.

They began walking side by side toward the grand staircase.

He nodded. “I meant what I said earlier—I won’t use my powers on you without your consent. Any relationship built on deception is bound to fall apart.”

He stopped and faced her. “If there's something I want to know, I'll ask. If there's something you want to know, you're free to do the same. We may not have chosen this marriage, but I hope we can at least build something respectful, mutually beneficial."

She nodded. Same for me, as well.

He grinned. “I won’t lie—I’m really curious about your powers. No one’s ever seen them before.”

They continued walking. “But I won’t force you to show me. I’ll earn your trust.”

She offered a faint smile. It was considerate of him not to press her. And, for now at least, it didn’t seem like he would go back on his word and pry into her thoughts. A small weight eased off her shoulders, knowing her mother’s lies had held.

They arrived at the edge of the stairway.

“Well, I’ll see you around, Arrella Rumore. It was nice meeting you.” He gave her a polite nod before turning down the hallway.

Arrella watched him go, then turned and made her way up the stairs to her room. She was relieved—the prince seemed like a decent person. Even if theirs would be a loveless marriage, she hoped they could at least be friends, maybe even allies. Perhaps, in time, she would trust him enough to share her secret.

She made her way to her room, stopping only briefly to grab the mysterious journal from yesterday. She needed answers. With no lessons scheduled for the day, she intended to make the most of her time.

It was still early, so Jan would likely be training in the barracks. Arrella quickly jogged outside, spotting Jan leaning against a large oak tree in the shade, wiping sweat from her brow.

Jan saw her approach and waved her over.

“What’s that in your hand?” Jan asked as Arrella reached her. The morning breeze tugged at her plain gown, as if knowing the mystery the journal held, urging her toward something unknown.

It’s what I wanted to talk to you about yesterday, Arrella signed, handing over the journal. I found on my bed in the morning of my birthday. I was wondering if it was from you.

Jan ran her fingers over the worn, black leather cover. It was blank, with a button fold keeping it. The pages inside were yellowed and warped, edges curled as if soaked and left to dry unevenly.

She shook her head. “I didn’t give this to you, but it definitely looks like a journal.” Jan handed it back to her. “And it’s old, too. And used. Maybe someone lost it.”

Arrella simply shook her head. There’s a small etching on the back corner. She turned the journal over to show Jan the faint engraving of a name. Arrella Rumore—it was her name.

Jan looked confused. “But I thought you weren’t allowed to write on paper, let alone own a journal.”

I’m not. That’s why it’s weird that it has my name on it. I’ve never seen this before.

Jan raised an eyebrow. “Well, have you tried opening it?”

Arrella hesitated. No, I was afraid to open it alone. Or if I should at all. I wanted to see if you knew anything about it first.

Jan hummed thoughtfully, her eyes sparkling. “Well, I say we open it. Don’t you want to see what’s inside?”

Arrella considered for a moment. She was curious, and it couldn’t hurt if she was only reading it. There was something in her gut telling her she needed to see what was inside. The journal felt oddly familiar in a way that reminded her of the portrait.

She nodded, then attempted to open the clasp. It was locked.

Frowning, she tugged at it with all her strength, but the clasp wouldn’t budge.

Jan swiped it from her hands, trying to pry it open as well.

“Maybe we can try cutting it. Or picking the lock. But it’s not really a lock, so it might be difficult…” Jan muttered, still tugging at the strap.

Arrella gnawed on her lip, eyes tracing the curve of the weathered journal. Why was it locked? Whoever left it for her surely wanted her to read it, didn’t they? Then again, it made sense for a journal—likely filled with private thoughts—to be difficult to open. But she wasn’t sure what to do next.

She tilted her face, an idea slowly forming. What if the journal was meant for only her to open? Was there something only she could do to unlock it?

Jan, still working at the clasp, seemed oblivious to Arrella’s thoughts. She felt a strange pull, like the journal was meant to be accessed in a specific way.

Arrella thought back to the locked curtains in the portrait room, how they had opened for her the other night. Could it be the same? What if she could unlock it by speaking? She opened her mouth, willing her voice to break free, but only air came out. Maybe that was just a fluke.

Frustrated, she tried again—mouthing the word “open” and focusing every bit of willpower on the journal. She stared at it intently, willing it to respond.

Suddenly, with a soft click, the clasp popped open at Jan’s tug, flying out of her hands with surprising force.

They exchanged a look. “I guess it was just really tightly clipped,” she said, picking it up from the dirt.

Arrella let out a deep exhale. Was that really her? Did she actually have some latent power? The thought sparked excitement, but she quickly pushed it aside as Jan handed the journal back to her.

Taking a deep breath, Arrella opened the cover. The pages were filled with messy scribbles, the lines jagged and hurried. She glanced at Jan, who was staring at the journal, her eyes wide, flicking between the page and Arrella's face.

Wanting to focus on the text, Arrella handed it back to Jan, her mind racing with the possibility of what it might mean, and asked, Can you read it aloud?

Jan nodded, taking the journal back in her hands, and read aloud in a clear voice, “If you’re reading this, then it must be the end. I prayed it didn’t come to this, but there’s still a chance for you to save your people. Your home. To save him.” She paused, then added with a raised eyebrow, “Whoever wrote this sounds like she was really getting into a dramatic monologue.”

Just keep reading, please, Arrella signed.

Huffing out a breath, she continued, “You likely have questions, and there isn’t enough time to explain it all, but I must warn you: Don’t trust any of the noble families. Not even your closest friends. They must not know of your true nature, or else you’ll be in danger.” She paused for a moment.

Jan glanced over at Arrella, skeptical. “This is sounding like a load of crap, if you ask me. I already know you don’t have any powers, and nothing dangerous has ever happened to you.”

But Arrella was staring at the words with wide eyes, her heart thumping in her chest. She had used her powers before, but Jan didn’t know that.

Jan kept reading, her voice growing more serious. “There’s a reason why you feel a connection with him, and I promise you can trust your feelings on this. If there’s one person you can trust, it’s him. But he may not tell you the whole truth, and he doesn't want you to save him. But I can't let it end like this; I have to try. I have an idea on how to save him, but I’m not sure if it’s saving if he’s the one trapped.”

Jan flipped the page, speaking quickly. “I found an old practice I remembered reading about as a child, and now I understand why it’s been banned. I don’t know if there’s a way to reverse it, and I don’t know how much it will cost me. It might cost my life, but I’m willing to give it to save him. It’s called—”

“What are you guys doing over there?” a voice interrupted.

They jumped, dropping the journal. They quickly spun around to face the owner of the voice. It was Mira, the heir to the Mira family. No one outside the family knew what his first name was—he always joked that his full name was too long to say.

"Nothing much," Jan said, shrugging. "Just gossiping about your brother and that new maid."

"Yeah, I heard. Apparently, they met at the party yesterday and ‘fell in love,’" he said, gesturing dramatically. "I already know it’s not going to end well for them. He’s constantly chasing after whoever looks his way."

With a quick glance at Arrella, he offered an apologetic smile, brushing his hand through his cropped red hair. "Sorry, I missed your birthday yesterday, Ella. Duty called. You know I wouldn’t have missed it for the world otherwise." He sent her an emphatic grin.

As the heir to the Mira family, he could see into the realm of the past and future. A gift, though it was a scary thought. She wondered how it felt to see the world through his eyes, with all the different endings and what-ifs. Maybe that was why he hid behind jokes and flirty grins.

“By duty, you mean you were with that imperial knight, right?” Jan asked flatly.

He shrugged flippantly. “I don’t kiss and tell.” He gave a playful smirk. “Besides, it’s not like you were there for long. I bet you ran off the first chance you got.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“You missed the big announcement, though,” Jan added, her tone a little more serious.

“Oh, you mean about the engagement with Aiden Veron?” He snorted, clearly amused. “I knew about that ages ago.”

“You what?” Jan shrieked, her eyes wide with disbelief. She began smacking his shoulders. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Arrella bit her lip, trying not to show how taken aback she was by the casual way Mira dismissed the engagement. She wasn’t sure if she should laugh or get frustrated.

“Geez, stop acting like a madwoman and hitting me.” He pushed her arms away, his grin still in place. “You know I’m not allowed to reveal anything, especially something that big.”

He gave her a small smile. “Besides, it’s not like it’s a big deal.”

“Not a big deal? She’s engaged to the freaking prince, Mira!”

Mira raised an eyebrow, smirking. “And I can see why. He’s quite the sight, isn’t he?”

Jan shot him a glare, her arms crossing in frustration. “That’s not the point.”

“That’s exactly the point. If you’ve got to be stuck with someone, might as well be someone pleasant to look at.”

Jan rolled her eyes. With a sigh, she glanced at Arrella. “Even if you’re married to him, it doesn’t change anything. You’ll still be the Arrella we know.”

“Yeah, I mean, you’ll probably be sleeping in separate bedrooms anyway. Even I’d get tired of looking at him all day in court,” Mira joked, snickering. “Anyway, your father’s looking for you, Jan. I forgot to mention it.”

“What? Mira! You could’ve told me sooner! You know he hates me being late,” Jan snapped, already rushing off toward the barracks. “Arrella, we’ll talk more later, okay?” she called back as she ran.

Yes, later, she signed, waving.

She turned to pick up the fallen journal, but realized it was gone. Panic shot through her as she squatted down, glancing around frantically. Nothing.

“Are you alright?” Mira asked, hovering over her.

Arrella shook her head, heart racing. Where could it have gone? She hadn’t even finished reading it.

“If you have nothing else to do, you should join me in court today,” Mira said, his tone casual. “I heard they’re looking to hire a new captain of the guard.”

Sighing, she accepted that it was gone, brushing off her dress as she stood. You only want me to go so I can rank how handsome they are.

He scoffed. “Excuse me, but I am genuinely invested in the security of our kingdom. I’m only going to make sure our future lies in capable hands.” He paused, then added with a wink, “Of course, if they happen to remove a few layers and flex a bit while demonstrating their skills, I won’t complain.”

She laughed. Try not to fall in love with every knight who swings a sword.

She turned and made her way back to the castle.

“If you want to join, you know where to find me!” he called out. She shook her head, smiling.

“Don’t worry, it’ll still be there!”

She paused and glanced back.

What? she signed in an exaggerated motion, but he only waved her off and strolled toward the court hall.

Tilting her head, she continued her way back towards her room. Sometimes he said things that didn’t quite add up, but she figured it was just the way his all-encompassing mind worked.

Once she reached her room, she collapsed on her bed, closing her eyes.

The journal was gone, and she had more questions than ever. She replayed the words Jan had read over and over in her mind. Who was this person trying to save? What did they mean by the end? And what was the thing they were referring to as the only way to save him—and why did it feel like it was somehow connected to her?

Why was her name engraved on the back?

With a silent groan of frustration, she buried her face into the pillows.

She supposed it would make sense for the journal to mysteriously disappear after appearing in such an unusual way, but she still wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do with the limited information she had gathered.

If they had managed to save that person, he would’ve been trapped somewhere, and perhaps still alive, not lost to time. The author, though, was probably dead—or at least severely weakened. They were likely an ability user, one of the nobles. But which one?

She supposed it could have been a Branor, given their affinity for healing. But if that was the case, why couldn't they simply heal his wounds? Or was it a different kind of injury altogether?

They could also be a Rumore. That made sense, considering that wishing for healing would come at a much greater cost for a Rumore than a Branor, given their differing specialties. It could even cost their life.

But that didn’t seem possible. All of the Rumore heirs had died of old age or sickness. The peace the kingdom of Rowain had enjoyed for so long meant there was no need for their powers to be used for something so drastic.

She sat up, unable to stay still as her mind raced. Thumb in mouth, she bit down lightly, her thoughts drifting to something else that had been nagging her since reading the journal.

For some reason, she couldn't stop thinking about the man in the portrait. Rovin Artten.

Did he start moving because of her accidental use of power when she spoke? Or was he somehow alive? Was he trapped inside the painting? If he was, in fact, the one the journal referred to as needing saving, it would make sense.

Even if he wasn’t, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a connection between the two.

She had to go back to that room. But would it still be there?

She paused. Could this be what Mira had been referring to? She had assumed it was another one of his cryptic comments, but now, perhaps he had known something about what she had discovered.

A sense of urgency flooded her as she pushed herself off the bed. There was only one way to find out.