Chapter Ten

Entry:

They left me so suddenly. I saw them one night, then by morning, they were gone. Where did they go? Where will I go? I remain here, trapped. Trapped in this castle, in this numb body and mind. Trapped in myself and always yearning to see them again. 

I will never see them again. 

Phoenix

--

Following breakfast, the family split. 

Lucas and a malicious Daisy followed Cole back to his room for some fun time together, Daisy's excited chatter filling the hall as they disappeared. Phoenix decided to find someone she was growing quite fond of despite herself.

Greyson, Greyson, Greyson.

How she hated thinking about him, how she loved seeing him. Her feet paced toward barracks, its structure unchanging since she passed it her first march to the castle. Phoenix's heels sunk in the grass as she traversed across the lawn. 

A body of long, grey buildings topped with a flat roof stood proud atop a hill of grass, with soldiers freely moving in and out as they pleased. Two arms spread from the body, one being the recreational center and the other a training room. Finally, a small, detached bathroom which somehow smelt better than the recreational center. 

Eyes followed her as she entered, but she kept her gaze forward, comfortable enough to show up wearing this dress, but not confident enough to meet all the men's sneering eyes. 

A row of beds streamed past her, some full, others empty, a few waiting for new soldiers to call home. 

She saw it in the corner of her vision- Sullivan. His size made him stand out from the crowd of men. Phoenix couldn't let herself be seen. If he saw her, he'd knew something was up, her whole mission could fail, she might-

"Hey!" Sullivan cried out.

Phoenix paused but didn't turn around, so her back was to him.

"Are you a soldier?"

Phoenix glanced over her shoulder so only her side profile was visible.

"No," she replied, "I'm here to meet a friend."

"That's what I thought, you don't look like a soldier. Be careful around here, wouldn't want something pretty like you falling into trouble."

Did he really not?

Phoenix turned completely and faced him. Sullivan met her face and smiled.

"What's your name?" he asked. 

Sullivan was staring Phoenix right in the face, and he didn't have the faintest clue who she was. Did he really dismiss her that quickly after she beat him? 

"Your name?" he pushed.

"You're a prick," Phoenix sneered as she turned around, not bothering another word until she reached the recreational room. 

"Greyson!" she called through the cheering crowd. 

She wormed her way through men until she stood right behind Greyson, peering over his shoulder. Men chanted as Greyson and another man sat at a table, eyes digging into each other. Well, not just sitting. Cheers erupted as Greyson's hand smashed the table, making him the loser of an arm wrestle. Greyson's shoulder was sturdy and warm against the meat of Phoenix's hand. 

"Lose again?" she teased with a smile.

"Again?" he replied, standing up. After looking at her, his eyes narrowed, and mouth dropped on both sides. "What are you doing here wearing that?"

Of course he sounded like a disappointed father rather than an actual twenty year old boy. 

"The maids thought it would grab the Prince's attention," Phoenix explained with a smile.

"It's grabbing more than just the Prince's attention," Greyson noted, gesturing to the barracks and lurking eyes behind them.

"Honestly, would it kill you to just compliment me? Stop being such a concerned nice guy all the time. Nice is so overrated," she quipped.

"And you're still not pleasant company," he chuckled with a smile. 

"Never claimed I was. Can I see you later? After lunch?"

"Okay, stay out of trouble," he agreed.

With an eye roll she turned to leave, but before she could walk away, Greyson grabbed her hand. She swiveled her head to look at him.

"You do look beautiful, Phoenix," he earnestly told her. His voice was soft but sure, no room for argument.

Phoenix froze. Panicked. Greyson gave her a concerned glance and waved a hand in front of her face.

"You good?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine."

"Okay, see you later then."

Phoenix nodded and left as fast as she could. She was rushing into the friendship with Greyson too quickly. So what if he was the first boy to willingly hang out with her? To compliment her? 

Phoenix stormed back to the castle, cursing herself out. Her mission, to blend into court and weed out a potential killer, required a whole new set of skills. But her mission didn't require her to care about boys. 

One thing was definite: Phoenix needed to find court records about each person.

With that decided, she didn't slow her pace until the Great Hall greeted her. Only a few maids and Highlanders roamed about, safe. 

The library was in the West Wing, the same wing as the Throne Room, and she ended up making the wrong turn twice, having to ask for directions. Her mental map was filling up, but there was still more blank space than filled in pieces- the castle was bigger than she ever thought. The library's thick wooden doors yielded after a gentle push. 

Sunlight poured through windows on the walls, dancing on bits of dust floating about, settling on plants. Comfortable chairs cushioned corners with private reading nooks. 

Twelve bookshelves stood in the center of the room, each one stuffed with books crammed with loose papers and words pooling with ink.

The hundreds of books in this library made it the biggest in all of Domum. And to the right, a massive mural depicting the Burning, big enough to admire from afar. 

Today, Phoenix was not looking for books, but for records. 

Files on all four names Isla had told her about. Phoenix scanned sideways titles, loose-leaf headings, and even a forgotten sketch.  Her shoulders slumped in defeat that most books were about the Burning, confiscated by the refugees for the sake of literature. Many mentioned Gods no longer worshiped. Only a select few involved modern ideas. 

Her fingers traced along the spines, rising and falling with each irregular volume, a light coating of dust lifting onto her skin. There, finally something that piqued her interest- a book on jewels, written by Corton Fairchild. 

Phoenix yanked the book free and flipped through the pages filled with jewels, one resembling the next. Her fingers flipped through page after page, until she reached the back, and an image caught her eye- Queen Amelia's crown.

The text claimed Corton didn't make the jewel in the heart of the crown, but he was the one who designed the crown itself. Who else could have crafted the jewel if not the ex-royal jeweler? 

More importantly, there wasn't a description of the center jewel. Phoenix flipped back a few pages and realized that every other jewel had a description of the jewel itself, all save the Queen's crown. Maybe Corton wrote this book to prove his worth, and he didn't want to give credit for the actual gem in the Queen's infamous crown, but did want credit for designing the crown itself. 

She tucked the book away and looked for anything on courtiers, biographies of the sort. Once every book had been traced over, leaving a snail's trail of cleaned finger lines behind, it became clear that nowhere in the library were records of any sort and she was wasting her time.

Her feet paced with her thoughts. Perhaps records were kept in King's private chambers or a high official's office. But that would require her asking for the King's help, and she refused to consider that a viable option. 

While Phoenix's eyes were closed and she circled in thought, she heard a voice hum, "You're going to wear out your shoes if you keep pacing like that."

She didn't bother to open her eyes and mindlessly replied, "I'm trying to think."

"About what?" the intrusive voice inquired.

Phoenix abruptly paused her pacing, recognizing the voice. It was the way the voice rolled off his tongue, smooth and certain, that gave him away. For a second, she debated whether she should reveal what she was searching for. Deciding it was better to ask for his help than the King's, Phoenix asked, "If you were the King, where would you keep court records?" 

"If I were King…" the voice mused. The voice came behind a wall of plants where a silhouette sat, legs crossed over one another. Phoenix cautiously made her way over there.

"If I were King" the voice resumed, setting his book down and standing, "I'd order someone else to take care of something as boring as records." 

Phoenix stopped behind the plants, her face hidden. Phoenix's outline behind the plants curtsied. "Hello, your royal highness."

"Why would you want something as trivial as the court records?" the Prince asked, shoving his hands into his pockets. "And come out from those plants and face me. A chat with a lady in the library is a rare opportunity."

Wooden boards creaked as she stepped around the potted plants- terracotta dust gathered on the nearby floor- and faced him, curtsying again. His hair caught the light spilling in from the windows, illuminating his icy hair, and he possessed a confidence that some would call attractive, but Phoenix deemed annoying. His pale eyes slid to hers and she met his gaze with a smug smirk. It's no wonder why Isla spent time drooling over him. The combination of his polished appearance and sometimes childish nature made him attractive. Too bad he was a greedy fool. 

To Phoenix's surprise, he recognized her immediately after their eyes met.

"Ah!" he exclaimed with amusement. "Moat girl!"

Unimpressed, Phoenix rolled her eyes and corrected, "It's Phoenix, your royal highness."

"Please, no more formalities."

Phoenix snorted. He had no idea how many improper insults she wanted to spit at him. His family used Cole to get her to agree to this whole mess in the first place, and that was unforgivable. 

"You're just as snarky as I remember you to be, champion!"

"Is being irksome the only thing you're good at?"

"Not the only thing," he said lazily, "I'm also pretty."

"Do you know where the court records are or not?" Phoenix's voice rose in annoyance. 

"Maybe, maybe not. I like your dress, by the way." His voice was loud and insincere, as though challenging her. "Very risqué to walk around exposing so much. You wouldn't be trying to get my attention on your daily garden walks now, would you?" 

"Honestly, whoever created you wasted a good ass on that mouth of yours. Tell me, do you ever get tired of spitting out all that shit?" 

A laugh broke through him, but it sounded less rehearsed. It was fuller and more chaotic, and a little ugly. His real laugh.

"I know where the records are kept," he wheezed while coming down from his laughter. "There's a door inside the main meeting room. All the records are kept there so during meetings they can be easily accessed." 

"Thank you," Phoenix felt her shoulders relax. 

"But," he added with eyes sparkling with mischief, "you need permission to enter from a royal official."

  Phoenix looked at the Prince, arms crossed over her exposed chest, and connected, "You're the only royal official I know who can let me into that room."

"Yes, yes I am."

"What do you want?" Phoenix sighed. 

"Are you always all business? Relax a little."

"I'm just trying to do the job your father gave me."

"The King gave you," he corrected.

Didn't he just say to skip formalities? What a mess, contradicting himself. 

"Sorry, your royal highness," Phoenix replied without sincerity. 

"No, you're not," Talon smirked. 

Phoenix matched his perked lips. "You're finally right about something."

"I also called you pretty, suggesting I was wrong there, too?"

"Women call you desirable. I don't see it- the only thing I'd ever want from you is your silence," Phoenix smirked. 

"Okay, fine, let's do this," the Prince challenged. "I want you to send that friend of yours my way tonight?"

"What?" Phoenix stammered in disbelief. "You mean Isla?"

"Isla! Yes, that's the one."

"How do you even know about her?" Phoenix asked. "We've never talked with you during our walks."

"I don't need to talk to a lady to gain their favor. Like you said- I'm very desirable." 

Phoenix scowled. 

"What if she doesn't want to?" Phoenix said. "What if she actually likes herself?"

"I'm the Prince, how could she refuse?" 

"Why don't you just go out and get her yourself?" Phoenix pushed. 

"I prefer not to chase women."

"You're disgusting."

"And you're awfully rude," he countered with a smile. "All I want is a nice, fun evening with a beautiful woman. And I don't see any around here."

"You're disgusting," Phoenix scowled again but with more venom, her eyes narrowing and stance widening. There was no way this guy was thinking about settling down. 

"And you should probably leave and get your friend before I revoke my offer," he concluded, studying her defensive position curiously. 

Phoenix shook her head in disapproval and took a second to weigh her options. Isla was always talking about how she wanted to be with the Prince, but should she sell Isla off like cattle just to do her job? Was Phoenix selling her if Isla wanted to do it? Without a proper farewell curtsy, Phoenix turned and briskly left the library. She had to find Isla and tell her what had happened, if anything else than to warn her. 

While Phoenix made her way out of the castle and toward the awful gardens, she couldn't help but feel dirty for even proposing this to Isla. What would her family think of her? 

Before she could come up with any definitive answers she hit the gardens, this time making no wrong turns. She weaved through rose bushes and other frilly girls until she saw a brunette wearing a green dress studded with emeralds around the hem. Phoenix tapped Isla's shoulder and she turned with a smile and polite hello. 

"Phoenix!" Isla exclaimed with a light voice. "Didn't we already walk?"

"Yes." 

Hesitating wouldn't do anything good, so Phoenix just put it all out there, the Prince's proposal the center of the show. 

Isla's smile widened when Phoenix mentioned meeting the Prince by accident, then dropped at his desire to spend the night with Isla. Isla put her hands on Phoenix's arm to stop her from talking more and asked, "Are you serious?" 

"Yes. I'm not asking you to do this, I'm just letting you know that he has his eyes on you and-" before Phoenix could finish the sentence Isla let out a loud squeal.

"Oh my goodness, I am so excited! I knew green was the color to wear today, I could just feel it. Oh, I just can't wait!"

Taken aback by her enthusiasm, Phoenix stuttered, "You want to do this?"

"Are you kidding? Do you know what great news this is? If I'm good, he might propose to me. If not then I'll get proposals from all other kinds of official men when they hear that I'm worthy in the Prince's eyes!" At this point she was looking up at the sky, clapping her hands together and singing "thank you" repeatedly.

"Isn't it bad to sleep around? You know, being 'unseemly' and all?"

"Of course! For average, boring people. But this is the Prince!"

Phoenix never thought of it that way. Maybe this was a good thing. No, Phoenix still felt dirty that Isla was doing this so she could get to the records. 

"Well, thank you Isla. If there's anything you need from me, let me know."

"No, thank you, Phoenix! This is the best news I've gotten since I moved into this castle. I should start getting ready right now. You don't mind if I leave, do you?"

"Not at all," Phoenix replied absentmindedly, still trying to process how she managed to be completely wrong about how Isla would feel. 

"Well good, I'll be off now!" she bid as she turned and skipped out of the gardens, eagerness in her step. 

Still grasping the situation, Phoenix looked up toward the palace to her right. A wall of stone stared back, a wall Phoenix felt she understood more than Isla.

No, focus. Phoenix made her way back through the gardens the way she came. Not a single person that Phoenix had flagged was walking, and she had no idea where any their rooms were. Even if she did, she didn't know how to talk to them without raising suspicion. 

Giving a huff of defeat, Phoenix placed her hands on her hips. 

The Prince was busy tonight so Phoenix couldn't access the records until tomorrow. Greyson could give a second opinion on the whole ordeal. He was off work today, this would be a perfect opportunity. He always made her feel better. The smell of roses suffocated her nostrils, soon replaced by the stench of soldiers. 

You do look beautiful, Phoenix. 

She wondered what that meant. Greyson always made her feel better. A small smile stretched over her lips; maybe this would work out.