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Aurora stared at the blank page for a moment, lost in the memories it held. “It’s a list I found in the Dreamworld of my family tree,” she explained. “I figured if I ever made it out, I would never again return to that tower. So, I needed to know what other places I could go. I found an illusion of my mother once who gave me a list of her family. Thank you for keeping it safe for me.”
Ella leaned in, her curiosity getting the better of her. She peered at the paper that was still in Aurora’s hand. “But it’s blank,” she noted.
Aurora smiled knowingly. She walked over to a candle burning on the table and held the paper over the flame. As if by magic, letters began to appear on the paper, glowing a deep shade of red before settling into their original inky black. “There it is.”
Ella’s eyes widened in amazement. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Aurora chuckled softly. “As much as I hate the Dreamworld, it also has its own fascinating wonders.”
Ella leaned against the table, regarding Aurora thoughtfully. “So, where will you go now?”
Aurora looked at the crumbled invitation in one hand, then at the family list in the other. Her heart ached with conflicting desires, torn between what she wanted and what she believed was right. “If I go to Tristan, I’ll keep him from moving on, and that wouldn’t be fair to him.”
Still, the thought of leaving without saying goodbye to Tristan nearly shattered her entire being.
A heavy silence hung in the air as Ella absorbed Aurora’s words, her eyes full of empathy. “So, what will it be?” Ella pressed gently.
A pleased smile curved Aurora’s lips. “I’ll bring Azul back along with your dress.”
* * *
Aurora’s heart raced as she dismounted from Azul. The wind had been relentless, leaving her golden hair a tousled mess. She glanced around the palace courtyard, her brown eyes catching the glint of sunlight against polished armor and elaborately ornamented carriages.
As she stepped into the grand foyer of the palace, her heeled shoes echoing on the marble floor, Aurora’s gaze was drawn to the coronation hall. A throng of elegantly dressed guests filled the space, their hushed conversations creating an undercurrent of anticipation. Her heart quickened as she weaved through the crowd, determined to catch a glimpse of the moment Prince Tristan would ascend to the throne.
“The prince is never late,” a man’s voice murmured nearby.
“I’ve heard no one can find him in the palace,” another voice responded.
With a deep breath, Aurora’s steps quickened. Her father, King Midas, stood at the front of the hall. But an inexplicable unease settled over her, sending a shiver down her spine. She veered behind one of the grand pillars, seeking to hide from his sight.
Spotting a small door tucked away in a corner, Aurora darted toward it. The narrow corridor stretched before her. But before she could take more than a few steps, a strong hand seized her arm, pulling her into a room with endless shelves filled with books.
Aurora spun around, alarmed. But then recognized Killian. “You scared me,” she breathed in relief.
Killian’s rugged face softened, his stormy eyes studying her. “Is Tristan with you?”
Aurora shook her head, puzzled by the question. “No, why would he be?”
The furrow deepened between Killian’s brows, a shadow of concern clouding his gaze. “He’s gone,” he uttered, the weight of those two words sinking heavily in the air.
Aurora’s heart stuttered. “What do you mean ‘gone’? It’s his coronation day.”
“It’s not just his coronation. It was also a public alliance with your father.”
A chill swept over Aurora, her eyes falling to the ground. The intricate patterns of the marbled floor seemed to blur as her thoughts whirled.
Killian’s head dipped in a respectful bow. “Rest assured, your secret is safe with me, Princess.”
Before Aurora could respond, the library door was flung open. A guard rushed with his face pale. “Killian, it’s Ryke. Hurry.”
The echoing clang of footsteps reverberated as Killian stormed out of the room. Without a second thought, Aurora trailed after him. The sound of a man’s voice, sharp and furious, reached her ears even before they entered the coronation hall. The atmosphere was charged, heavy with a hint of dread.
As they crossed the threshold into the hall, Aurora’s gaze locked onto a man with jet-black hair who stood defiantly before her father.
“What did you do to the prince?” The man’s voice dripped with anger and desperation. “I should have you hanged in the courtyard at once!”
Aurora hid behind one of the pillars, straining to catch every word.
