The room felt colder after William left. His warmth had exited with him. Our conversation still lingered in my mind—weighted with hints. One, I had suffered a concussion. Two, I was maybe attracted to my knight.
I turned back to the vanity and met the lifeless gaze of the petunias. I stared at my reflection—and that's when I noticed it. My eyes weren't ocean blue. They were coffee brown. I was a brunette. My skin was the color of sunlit bronze.
I was Iris. Everyone here knew me and treated me as her.
But William… the mystery he had become unraveled further this week. His once soulless gaze now brimmed with heat—so intense it burned. He didn't see Iris. He called me Penny.
There was a knock at the door and a squeaky "My lady."
"Come in," I replied.
A girl stepped inside wearing a maid's uniform and a bright yellow ribbon. Her hair was neatly pulled into a bun.
"I love the ribbon," I said. She looked up and smiled politely.
"Thank you, my lady," she replied. Her eyes were kind.
"I was assigned to assist you, my lady," she said with a curtsy. "My name is Lilliana."
They replaced her. I thought they might defy me—but no. Now I knew the kind of power I held.
"Have a seat," I instructed, stretching out on the royal blue chaise lounge.
She obeyed quietly. Already, I could tell she was more intelligent than Laura. She moved with grace, deliberate and cautious.
"The head maid must have informed you of the reason Lora was dismissed?" I asked, watching her carefully.
"Yes, my lady. She's punishing Louisa as we speak."
"Did you work in the kitchen too?" I asked, feigning disinterest as I examined my nails.
"No, I worked briefly in the East Wing before being transferred to the West Wing," she answered.
"Why were you transferred?"
She paused and swallowed. "The Crown Prince left for the capital. They no longer needed as many servants there."
She was lying. I could see it—the flicker of fear before she composed herself. But I wasn't angry. There was always something off about this place.
I sat up, crossing my legs. I needed an ally.
"Lily—may I call you that?" I smiled, shifting into charm. "I'd like you to be my ears. Tell me everything you hear—even the foulest bits."
"It's my duty, my lady." There it was. A female version of William.
I needed to know what they knew. What they whispered. What they exaggerated. I sent her to fetch me some snacks. The day wasn't even halfway through and I was already drained.
A violent slam against the window startled me. I rushed to the sill and saw a letter—creased, dirty, and trembling. I looked up just in time to see a cloaked figure dart through the garden gates and disappear into the orchard.
I bent down and picked up the letter. The handwriting was painfully familiar. I dashed to the vanity and retrieved the letter I had written to the Pope.
Identical penmanship.
Either I wrote this letter… or someone forged my handwriting.
I unfolded the new letter and read.
My breath caught.
It was a love letter to William. No greeting, no name—just soft, aching words that read like a long-held confession. She regretted not following him to the capital. Her father had locked her away. There was mention of a marriage proposal declined—because the bride-to-be had eloped with their poison taster.
At the top corner of the letter, the Count's crest. No signature. No initials.
But I could feel it—I had a hand in this somehow.
Could Iris and I share the same handwriting?
I didn't write it. But someone in the household did.
Was Iris in love with William? How did they even meet? And who was that cloaked figure?
The mysteries were piling up.
The estate had some of the answers… but I knew more truth waited beyond its gates.
Lilliana walked in, balancing a tray with a pot of tea and a plate of macarons.
"Fetch me the potato-colored dress they brought earlier," I said, rising. "And a cloak."
Thank you, Louisa.