I woke up with a lingering warmth in my bones that had no right to be there.

  Usually morning brought a stiff neck and the immediate, sharp assessment of my surroundings. My body was a tool, and tools needed maintenance, but they rarely felt comfortable. Today was different. The sunlight filtering through the heavy velvet drapes hit my face, and for a terrifying second, I just lay there.

  I felt safe.

  The sensation disgusted me.

  It was a residue of the Duke’s magic. The golden light he had poured into my skull the night before had acted as a high grade sedative, but it left behind this sticky, sweet sense of security. It dulled my edges. It made Seraphina’s body want to curl back up under the down comforter and drift away.

  I sat up abruptly and swung my legs over the edge of the mattress. The sudden movement made my head swim, but I welcomed the dizziness. It was a physical grounding. It reminded me that I was a pilot in a compromised vessel, not a child being coddled.

  I checked my internal clock. It was late. Far later than my regular morning secret training regiment.

  The door clicked open before I could stand. Marin bustled in, her arms full of fresh linens and a steaming tray.

  "Oh, you are awake!" she chirped.

  She set the tray down on the bedside table with a little too much enthusiasm. I eyed the contents. Porridge with honey, sliced fruit, and a glass of warm milk.

  "I am fine, Marin," I said. My voice came out raspy.

  "Of course you are, my lady," she said, moving to open the curtains fully. "But the Duke gave very specific orders this morning. He said you were up late studying and that you are not to be disturbed by anything strenuous."

  I paused in the middle of reaching for the glass of warm milk.

  "He said that?"

  "He did," Marin said. She smoothed the sheets I had just vacated. "He told the staff that your tutors are to be gentle with you today. No fencing practice. No heavy history lectures. He wants you to rest."

  I took a sip of milk to hide my expression.

  This did not fit the profile.

  My memories of Duke Corvin D'Arden were fragmented images of a cold, distant figure who looked at his daughter as if she were a bad investment. The man from last night, and the man giving these orders, operated with a different strategy.

  He was managing an asset. That was the only logical conclusion I could come up with.

  "That is... kind of him," I said. I made sure to sound small and grateful.

  "He cares about you, Lady Seraphina," Marin said softly. "Even if he has a stern way of showing it."

  I kept my face neutral. Care? Right sure.

  After a slow breakfast, I dressed. Marin chose a dress of heavy blue wool that was comfortable but looked ridiculous.

  "You are to go to the Duke's private study," Marin informed me as she finished brushing my hair. "Instead of your morning lessons."

  My pulse spiked. I forced it back down.

  "The study?" I asked. "Did I do something wrong?"

  "Oh, no," Marin assured me. "He just wants to review your progress personally. It is a honor."

  hmm suspicious.

  I walked through the corridors. The house was quiet. The winter draft that usually plagued these halls seemed less biting today, or perhaps they are using a form of magic to block out the cold.

  I reached the double doors of the private study. I knocked once. Firm but polite.

  "Enter."

  I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  The room was a testament to organized power. Walls lined with books stretching to the vaulted ceiling. In the center edge of the room there he sat writing on a desk of black wood.

  He did not look up immediately. He was writing something.

  I walked to the center of the room and curtsied towards father.

  "Good morning, Father."

  He finished his writing, and set the quill down. Then he looked at me.

  His eyes were the same shade of grey as mine, but they lacked any warmth. He looked at my face, my posture, my hands.

  "Sit," he said.

  He gestured to a high backed chair opposite him. I climbed into it. My feet dangled inches above the floor.

  "I have been reviewing your recent work," he said.

  He picked up a sheet of paper from his desk. I recognized it. It was a geography assignment I had completed two days ago.

  "Your handwriting has changed, Seraphina."

  My stomach tightened.

  "It has become... angular," he observed. He traced a line of text with his finger. " precise. Efficient. It lacks the drift you used to have."

  He looked up at me.

  "I... I have been practicing," I stammered. I gripped the fabric of my dress. "I wanted it to be neat. Like yours."

  A lie mixed with flattery. Standard evasion tactic.

  He watched me for a long moment. He was not buying it, but he was not calling it out either. He was gathering data.

  "And your mannerisms," he continued. "You sit straighter. You speak with less hesitation. Even now, you are meeting my gaze."

  I immediately lowered my eyes to the desk.

  "I am sorry, Father. I did not mean to be rude."

  "It is not rude," he said. His voice was thoughtful. "It is different."

  He slid the paper back onto the stack.

  "Growth itself is nothing strange. It is the direction of it that deserves watching."

  He leaned back in his chair. The leather creaked.

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  "You may go. Do not overexert yourself today."

  "Yes, Father."

  I slid off the chair and curtsied again. I turned and walked to the door, feeling his eyes drilling into my back every step of the way.

  He knew.

  He did not know what exactly, but he knew the package had changed contents. He was letting me run to see where I would go. He was a dangerous man. I filed him away as a even higher priority threat level.

  I spent the rest of the morning in a state of restless agitation. I sat in the solar with a book I did not read, my mind replaying the interaction in the study.

  I needed to secure my position.

  Later just before the midday meal, I walked past the library.

  The doors were closed. I walked past them without stopping, acting like a bored child wandering the halls.

  I slowed my pace as I approached the main doors.

  They had been unguarded all this time. Today, two men stood on either side of the entrance. They were not the house livery staff. These men wore leather armor and carried short swords at their hips. Their posture was relaxed but alert. Now this are soldiers.

  My access point was gone. The information I needed about this world, about the magic system, about the political landscape it was all locked behind those doors.

  Direct infiltration was no longer an option. I would need to find another way.

  In the early afternoon, a servant knocked on my door.

  "Master Theodore Reinhardt is here to see you, my lady," the maid said.

  Theo.

  I felt a flicker of irritation. I did not have the bandwidth for the stupid golden boy today. But refusing him would break character. Seraphina for the odd reason still adored him despite being bullied.

  "I will come down," I said.

  I checked my appearance in the mirror. Pale skin. Large eyes. Harmless.

  I went down to the guests room. Marin was already there, standing by the wall. Next to her stood Theo’s personal maid, a woman with a severe face who always looked like she smelled something sour.

  Theo stood by the window.

  He turned as I entered.

  He looked wrong. Something is off.

  He is seems different today.

  usually, Theodore Reinhardt was a beacon of practiced charm. He smiled like he was posing for a painting. He moved with a fluid, easy grace that screamed nobility.

  Today, he was stiff. His hands were hiding in the chair. His face was pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes that stood out against his fair skin.

  "Seraphina," he said.

  He did not use his usual flowery greeting. No 'my dear', no 'little flower'.

  "Hello, Theo," I said. I walked over to him. "Are you well? You look tired."

  "I am fine," he said quickly. Too quickly.

  He glanced at the maids, then back at me.

  "It is stuffy in here," Theo said. "We should go outside. The air will do us good."

  "It is freezing outside, Theo," I said. "And Father said I should rest."

  "Please," he said.

  He looked at me then. His eyes were desperate.

  "Just a short walk," he pressed. "To the edge of the woods. Like we used to."

  I paused.

  The woods. The edge of the estate. Privacy.

  He wanted to talk, and he did not want the servants to hear.

  This was connected to the "missing memory." The leverage he thought he held over me.

  If I wanted to understand the board, I needed to know what pieces he was holding.

  "Alright," I said, letting a smile touch my lips. "If you really want to."

  "I do," he said. He breathed out, his shoulders dropping an inch.

  "But Marin must come," I added. "I cannot go without her."

  Theo nodded. "Of course. My maid will come too."

  We bundled up. I wore a heavy cloak trimmed with white fur that made me look like a marshmallow. Theo wore a tailored grey coat that looked expensive and insufficient for the temperature.

  We walked out the garden doors.

  The cold hit me instantly. It was a dry, sharp cold that bit into my cheeks. The ground was hard, the grass crusted with old, grey snow.

  We walked in silence for a while. The maids trailed ten paces behind us, whispering to each other.

  I watched Theo from the corner of my eye. He was walking with a choppy, uneven rhythm. He kept clenching and unclenching his fists. He was working himself up to something.

  We passed the frozen fountain and the dormant rose garden. We reached the stone pavilion that marked the end of the manicured grounds. Beyond it, the land sloped down toward the dense treeline of the old forest.

  Theo stopped.

  He turned to the maids.

  "Wait here," he ordered.

  Marin frowned. "Master Theodore, the Duke gave strict instructions. Lady Seraphina is not to wander off."

  "We are just going to the old oak," Theo said. His voice was brittle. "It is right there. Just over the ridge."

  "I cannot allow-" Marin started.

  I stepped in.

  "It is fine, Marin," I said. I pointed to the ridge. "See? You will be able to see the top of the tree from here. We will not go into the deep woods. Just to the clearing. I promise."

  I gave her my best pleading look. The one that widened the eyes and lowered the chin.

  Marin hesitated, looking between me and the shivering maid beside her. The pavilion had a stone bench and wind walls. The ridge was exposed.

  "Fine," she sighed. "But do not go past the oak. And if I call, you come back immediately."

  "We will," I said.

  I turned to Theo. "Come on."

  We walked up the slope. As soon as we crested the ridge, the manor disappeared from view, hidden by the swell of the land. The wind picked up here, rattling the bare branches of the trees ahead.

  We entered the treeline. The sound of the estate faded, replaced by the creaking of wood and the crunch of our boots on the frozen earth.

  Finally reached the clearing.

  In the center stood a massive oak tree. Its trunk was as wide as a car, its bark gnarled and black with age. Its branches spread out like skeletal fingers against the grey sky.

  It was a secluded spot. A perfect place for secrets.

  Theo stopped near the trunk. He did not look at me. He stared at the roots of the tree.

  I stayed quiet. The wind brushed past my ears, carrying the only sound between us.

  Finally, he spoke.

  "Did you tell anyone?"

  His voice was barely a whisper. The wind almost stole it away.

  I kept my face blank. "Tell anyone what?"

  He turned to me. His face was twisted with anxiety.

  "About the cat," he said.

  The words hung in the freezing air.

  The cat.

  I immediately searched the database. I dived into Seraphina’s memories, looking for the keyword. I scanned the timeline of her childhood interactions with Theo.

  Games of tag. Tea parties. Reading lessons.

  I looked for a cat.

  There was nothing.

  I frowned internally. I pushed harder, searching for any jagged edges in the memory, any signs of trauma or repression.

  I found a blank spot.

  It was a distinct void in the timeline, about four weeks ago. A hazy afternoon near this very tree. I could remember walking here, and I could remember walking back. But the time in between was white noise.

  Seraphina’s body reacted before my mind did. My heart rate spiked. A cold sweat broke out on the back of my neck. My stomach churned with a visceral, instinctive nausea.

  Fear. Deep, primal fear.

  Whatever happened here, Seraphina had buried it so deep that even I couldn't get a hold of it.

  And Theo knew.

  Those he think he was holding a gun to my head?

  I looked at him. He was trembling, and it was not just from the cold. He looked terrified.

  He thought I was going to expose him.

  I did not know what he had done. I did not know what "the cat" referred to. Was it an animal we killed? A pet he hurt? Something worse?

  It did not matter.

  Information was missing, but the power dynamic was clear. He was guilty. He was afraid. And he believed I remembered everything.

  If I admitted I did not remember, I lost the leverage. If I acted like I remembered and it was a big deal, I became a victim.

  I chose Option C.

  I let my expression go completely dead. I erased the child. I erased the confusion. I let Viper look out through Seraphina’s eyes.

  "It doesn't matter," I said.

  My voice was flat and clinical.

  Theo flinched as if I had slapped him.

  "Doesn't... doesn't matter?" he stammered. "Seraphina, we... there was so much blood. I thought..."

  Blood. Okay. Violence. That narrowed it down.

  "I haven't told anyone," I said, cutting him off. I took a step toward him.

  He took a step back, his heel catching on a root.

  "And I won't," I continued. "As long as you never give me a reason to."

  I tilted my head and grinned, studying his reaction.

  "You helped me remember who I am, Theo. You showed me that the world is not a nice place. That people are not nice."

  I was winging it, using generic psychological triggers trying to scare him, but it was landing. His eyes were wide, the pupils dilated.

  "I... I didn't mean to," he whispered. Tears were forming in his eyes. "I was angry. I just... I didn't think."

  "You never think," I said coldly. "That is your problem."

  He looked at me with a mixture of horror and confusion. He had expected me to cry. He had expected me to yell. He had expected the little girl he bullied.

  He did not know what to do with the ice block standing in front of him.

  "Seraphina!"

  Marin's voice drifted over the ridge. It sounded thin and far away.

  "Lady Seraphina! Your mother is asking for you! It is urgent!"

  The interruption broke the silence.

  Theo jumped. He wiped his eyes frantically with his sleeve, trying to compose himself.

  "We... we have to go," he choked out.

  I looked at him for one last second. I let a small, sharp grin touch my lips.

  "You look sick, Theo," I said. "Maybe you should go home and rest."

  I turned my back on him.

  I did not wait for him to answer. I did not check to see if he was following. I walked back toward the ridge, my boots crunching rhythmically on the snow.

  I filed Theodore Reinhardt as a compromised asset.

  He was bound by his own guilt. He was terrified of what he thought I knew. He would not be a problem for a while. In fact, he might be useful.

  I reached the top of the ridge and saw Marin waving at me from the pavilion.

  I started down the slope, my mind already moving to the next problem.

  There was a hole in my memory. A blank space shaped like a cat and full of blood.

  That was annoying. I hated missing data.

  But for now, I had a mother to deal with. And if today was any indication, she would be another puzzle entirely.

  I pulled my cloak tighter against the wind and kept walking.