Face to Face

The world outside Nora's room carried on as if nothing had changed. Servants bustled through the halls, their hushed whispers reaching her ears even through the heavy wooden doors. Snow fell in gentle waves beyond her windows, covering the estate's gardens in an untouched white blanket. From an outsider's perspective, life at the Dawn estate remained undisturbed.

But within her chambers, time had all but stopped.

For three days, Nora had confined herself to her quarters, claiming an illness had overtaken her. It wasn't exactly a lie—her body did feel weak, her appetite had vanished, and her hands trembled more than usual. But it wasn't sickness that plagued her. It was the image that refused to leave her mind: golden curls, a sleeping child, and Caspian's face reflected in another.

It was true. Everything in that wretched book was true.

Or at least, it had been up until now.

Her gaze drifted to the book resting on her bedside table. She had tried to read more, desperate for some clue as to what came next, but the words had become incomprehensible. No matter how hard she focused, the ink blurred, twisted, and refused to form coherent sentences past the first few chapters.

Had it always been this way? Or had something changed now that she had confirmed the truth with her own eyes?

The uncertainty gnawed at her.

She wanted to believe in Caspian, to trust in the man who had once been her devoted husband. He had held her close, had worried over her health, had insisted that she rest. Could a man capable of such care truly be the villain of this tale?

And yet, the evidence was undeniable. He had hidden Lacey and the boy within their estate, kept them a secret from her, and refused to let her anywhere near them.

She curled her fingers tightly around the blankets draped over her lap.

Had he ever loved her? Or had he merely played the role of a dutiful husband while waiting for the inevitable?

Waiting for her to die.

The thought sent a chill down her spine.

A knock at the door pulled her from her spiraling thoughts.

"Your Grace, His Grace has come to see you." Lillian's voice was gentle, hesitant.

For the first time in days, Nora sat up properly, smoothing out the folds of her nightdress. "Let him in."

The door opened, and Caspian stepped inside. He looked much the same as always—composed, noble, exuding an air of quiet authority. And yet, there was something in his expression as he gazed at her, something tight around the corners of his mouth.

"Why have you been hiding away?" His voice was soft but firm as he approached her bedside. "Ruth tells me you haven't been eating properly. Are you truly unwell?"

Nora forced a weak smile, lowering her gaze. "You know how I am. My health has always been a fickle thing."

Caspian sighed, settling on the edge of the bed. "You should have sent for me. I would have stayed by your side."

She turned to him then, searching his face. Would he have? Or would he have made another excuse, too occupied with his nanny?

"I didn't want to trouble you," she said instead, her voice barely above a whisper. "You've been busy."

His jaw tensed ever so slightly. "My duties require my attention, but that doesn't mean you are any less of a priority." He reached forward, brushing a stray silver strand from her cheek. His touch was warm, gentle—just as it had always been.

If she hadn't known the truth, she would have leaned into it.

Instead, she swallowed back the bitterness on her tongue and changed the subject. "I heard that there will be a ball at the royal palace in a few days."

A flicker of surprise crossed his features before he nodded. "Yes. It is to celebrate the Crown Prince's return from his diplomatic tour."

"I wish to attend."

Caspian's expression darkened. "Nora, you've barely left your bed for three days. This isn't the time to push yourself."

She smiled faintly. "When has it ever been the time?"

His lips parted as if to argue, but she continued, "I am the Duchess of Dawn. It would be improper if I did not make an appearance at such an important event."

"You shouldn't concern yourself with such formalities. No one would fault you for prioritizing your health."

Nora tilted her head, watching him closely. "Then who will accompany you?"

His fingers twitched against the fabric of his trousers. "I wasn't planning on staying long. I would only make an appearance on behalf of the family."

That was a lie.

She knew it.

Because the book had detailed this moment perfectly. Caspian would use the ball as an opportunity to sneak Lacey and their child out for a night in the city, disguising them among the commoners to enjoy a fleeting taste of freedom.

And he had no idea that she knew.

"Even so," she said gently, "I wish to go."

Caspian exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples. "You are stubborn."

"I am." She smiled, though it did not quite reach her eyes. "And I trust my husband will ensure I am well taken care of during the event."

Something flickered in his gaze then—something unreadable. After a long pause, he finally relented. "Very well. But if you show even the slightest sign of exhaustion, we leave immediately."

Nora nodded, accepting his terms.

He reached for her hand, pressing a soft kiss against her knuckles. "Rest for now. I will handle the preparations."

As he left, Nora sat in silence, her heart heavy.

She was stepping further into the unknown, playing a game she was unprepared for.

But if the book had been right about everything else—

Then she needed to know if it was right about the ending too.

The days of confinement had left Nora feeling restless. Though exhaustion still clung to her bones, she refused to remain bedridden any longer. She needed to clear her mind, to gather her thoughts before the ball. And more than anything—she needed to see for herself what Caspian had hidden within these walls.

Draped in a thick shawl, she moved through the manor's winding corridors with careful steps, her fingertips grazing the polished railings as she walked. Servants bustled around her, some nodding respectfully as they passed, others too occupied with their duties to notice her at all. It was the same as always.

And yet, everything felt different now.

Her gaze flickered toward the west wing—the very place where she had seen them that night. She longed to go there again, to confirm what she had witnessed, but she knew better. Caspian would have taken precautions. The rooms would be locked, the servants watchful.

She needed to be patient.

As she turned the corner leading toward the sunlit hall, a figure rounded the opposite end at the same time.

They nearly collided.

"Oh!" The young woman gasped, stepping back quickly, her hands tightening around the folded linens in her grasp.

Nora's breath caught in her throat.

Lacey.

Up close, she was even more breathtaking than the moonlit glimpse Nora had stolen nights ago. Golden curls framed a delicate face, her eyes the color of summer wheat, warm and gentle. She wore a servant's uniform, a simple gray dress with an apron tied neatly around her waist, yet there was a quiet grace to her, something that set her apart from the other housemaids.

For a brief moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Lacey dropped into a deep curtsy, lowering her gaze. "Your Grace, forgive me—I did not see you there."

Nora forced a polite smile, willing herself to stay composed. "No harm done."

Lacey remained bowed, waiting to be dismissed.

But Nora wasn't ready to let this moment slip away so easily.

"You're new," she said, feigning curiosity. "I don't believe I've seen you before."

The young woman hesitated before responding. "Yes, Your Grace. I was recently assigned as an assistant to Lady Clara."

The nanny.

Of course. Of course. She nearly laughed aloud at the mere audacity.

Caspian had placed her in the safest position possible, hidden in plain sight. As Clara's personal servant, she would have an excuse to remain close to the child without drawing suspicion.

And yet, here she was, face to face with the woman she had unknowingly stolen from.

Nora's grip on her shawl tightened.

"That must be demanding work," she said, keeping her tone light. "Caspian has told me that Lady Clara can be… particular at times."

A lie. Caspian had never spoken to her about the so-called nanny unless she broached the subject first.

A small, hesitant smile touched Lacey's lips. "She is very kind to me, Your Grace."

Kind.

Nora wondered if that kindness extended to keeping secrets.

She studied the woman before her, searching for something—anything—that would confirm her worst fears. Was there guilt in her expression? Was she afraid to be standing before the Duchess? Or did she know that she had already won, that Nora was merely a fading inconvenience?

"You must be quite skilled if she trusts you to assist her," Nora continued. "Where did you serve before coming here?"

Lacey stiffened ever so slightly, but her response was smooth. "I worked as a seamstress in the city before coming into service, Your Grace."

A lie.

Or at least, not the full truth.

But Nora simply nodded, pretending to accept it. "Well, I hope you find your time here comfortable. If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask."

Lacey's eyes lifted then—just for a moment.

Something flashed within them.

Gratitude? Guilt? Pity?

Nora couldn't tell, and it infuriated her.

The woman curtsied again. "You are very kind, Your Grace."

Kind.

That word again.

Nora forced herself to smile. "Run along now. I'm sure Lady Clara is waiting for you."

"Yes, Your Grace."

Lacey bowed once more before hurrying past, her steps quick but graceful, as if she floated rather than walked.

But Nora remained still, her heart hammering against her ribs.

She had done it.

She had faced her husband's first love and pretended as if her entire world was not unraveling at the seams.

But as she turned and continued down the hall, she realized something chilling.

Lacey had not once looked at her with fear.

She had looked at her with sorrow. And that made her want to scream.