The palace halls were silent at this hour, the flickering lamps casting long, wavering shadows on the marble floors. Myra knew she should be sleeping. But after recalling her stepmother's warning, sleep was impossible.
The note under her pillow burned in her mind.
"Your mother's death wasn't an accident. Be careful who you trust."
The words felt like a noose tightening around her. Who had written it? And why now?
She needed answers.
Her gaze drifted to the door. She had seen Ranvijay slip out earlier, speaking in hushed tones to one of his men. He was hiding something.
She had thought he was her captor. But what if there was more to this than she realized?
Slowly, she rose from the bed and wrapped a shawl around herself. The cold air nipped at her skin as she stepped into the corridor.
She would start with the note.
Whoever had sent it must have known something.
And she knew exactly where to begin.
The Hidden Papers
Myra's footsteps were soft against the palace floor as she made her way toward Ranvijay's study. She had been there only once, but she had seen the locked drawer in his desk. The way his fingers had curled around the key whenever she entered—it wasn't just business documents he was hiding.
Her heart pounded as she approached the heavy wooden doors. The guards were stationed farther down the hall, their voices distant. Carefully, she pressed her ear against the door. Silence.
She turned the handle. Locked.
Her lips pressed together. Of course.
But just as she was about to step back, a voice made her freeze.
"You shouldn't be here."
She spun around, her breath catching.
A man stood in the shadows, his face partially obscured by the dim light. The same man she had seen in the temple—the one with the tattoo beneath his eye.
The one who had warned her.
"You—"
He raised a finger to his lips, glancing toward the guards. "Not here." His voice was low, almost urgent. "Meet me in the courtyard in ten minutes. Come alone."
Then, before she could say a word, he disappeared into the darkness.
Myra swallowed hard, her fingers trembling.
She had wanted answers.
And now, she was about to get them.
Myra's heart pounded as she slipped through the palace corridors, the shadows stretching long under the dim lantern glow. The tattooed man's words echoed in her mind.
"Meet me in the courtyard in ten minutes. Come alone."
She hesitated for only a moment before making her decision. She needed to know the truth.
Carefully, she stepped past the guards, her bare feet silent against the cold marble. Each step felt heavier, her pulse quickening. What if Ranvijay found out? What if this was a trap?
But she couldn't stop now.
The courtyard loomed ahead, the open sky vast above the carved pillars. She scanned the darkened space, her breath shallow. No sign of him.
Had she misunderstood?
She moved toward the stone archway, her fingers brushing the cool surface. Silence. Even the wind had stilled.
Then—
A sharp sound. Boots on gravel.
Myra turned quickly, hope flaring—
Only to see Ranvijay standing at the entrance, his dark gaze locked onto her.
Her breath caught.
"What are you doing here?" His voice was low, unreadable.
Myra clenched her fists, forcing herself to stay calm. "I— I couldn't sleep."
His eyes narrowed. "So you decided to wander the palace at this hour?"
A muscle in his jaw ticked. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, blocking her path.
"Who were you waiting for, Myra?"
Panic twisted in her chest. Did he know? Had he seen?
"I wasn't waiting for anyone," she lied, lifting her chin. "I just wanted fresh air."
He exhaled sharply, his fingers grazing her wrist. Not harsh, not forceful—just enough to remind her that he saw through her.
"Go back inside," he murmured, his voice softer but firm. "Now."
Myra hesitated, casting one last glance at the courtyard. Empty.
Whoever that man was, he was gone.
Had he seen Ranvijay and left? Or had something stopped him?
She had no answers.
Only more questions.
With one last glance at the shadows, she turned and walked back inside, Ranvijay's presence lingering behind her like a warning.
Back in her chamber, Myra locked the door, her fingers trembling. She reached beneath her dupatta and pulled out the delicate silver chain, the locket cool against her palm.
She traced the tiny clasp before flipping it open. Inside, her mother's soft eyes gazed back at her, frozen in time.
A lump formed in her throat.
"Ma… I tried." Her whisper barely filled the space around her. "I went to meet him. I thought I would find answers, but—"
Her voice wavered.
"I couldn't."
She swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around the locket.
"What if… What if there's something I'm not meant to know?"
The silence offered no reply, only the faint flicker of the candle beside her.
A tear slipped down her cheek, landing on the locket's glass. She quickly wiped it away.
"I miss you." The words were fragile, almost breaking.
Clutching the locket to her chest, Myra closed her eyes, letting the warmth of her mother's memory be the only comfort she had left.