Chapter 8:The sky and the stars

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He disappeared again—just like he always did whenever he let himself feel something. This time, he left the estate entirely. Vulnerability didn't sit well with him. And as usual, I was left behind with more questions than answers.

At least now I knew I wasn't the crown prince's fiancée. But then… what was I doing here?

I turned to the window and spotted a familiar figure outside—the hooded messenger. My heart jumped. I dropped the book I'd been pretending to read and hurried out to the stables, the weight of my dress dragging me down with every step. These things were not meant for running.

The horses barely stirred as I entered the barn, my eyes locked on the cloaked figure standing near a stack of hay.

"Who are you?" I asked, grabbing a rake from the wall beside me.

"Who do you think I am?" the figure replied, pulling back her hood.

Lady Tamina.

I gasped. "What are you doing here?"

Without a word, she reached into her trousers and drew a knife. I took a step back, tightening my grip on the rake. But instead of lunging, she smirked and plucked an apple from a nearby basket. She sliced off a piece and popped it into her mouth.

I didn't lower the rake.

"Did you send me that letter?" I asked cautiously.

"Yes," she said, her eyes watching me with amused disdain. "You seem to have forgotten why you came here."

"You know me?" I breathed.

Her eyes widened for a moment—then she laughed, loud and sharp. "The Count really did a number on you."

She walked forward with surprising ease and shoved an apple into my mouth.

"You'd better find Iris before the crown prince marries that little wench," she hissed, pressing the blade of her knife against my neck.

I dropped the rake.

What in the world was happening?

"But… I'm Iris," I whispered.

Tamina froze. Then, slowly, she pulled the knife away and tucked it back into her belt.

"If you're Iris," she scoffed, "then I'm the Count."

"You're not Lady Tamina, are you?" I ask, reaching for the rake.

She lunges.

We crash into the hay, rolling and grappling. She's stronger than she looks—or maybe it's the outfit giving her power. I grab a fistful of hay and shove it into her mouth. She sputters. I kick her off me and scramble to my feet, yanking up the hem of my dress.

I race toward the stable doors—but the dress trips me up. I fall hard. The horses whinny and rear, finally reacting to the chaos.

She grabs my leg. My shoe slips off in her hand.

I kick, hitting her shin, and crawl toward the entrance, desperate.

Where were the stable workers? Where was William when I needed him?

Then—

Something heavy slams into the back of my head.

My ears ring. Time slows. A bolt of searing pain splits my skull in two.

She grabs my hair, yanking my head back. I scream.

"You brought me here—so own up to it!" she shouts.

I twist, grab her wrist, and drag her down. Straddling her, I wrap my hands around her neck. I squeeze.

She only smiles. A cold, taunting smile.

"Do it. You've never had the guts, Star," she says.

I freeze.

That name. How did she know that name?

"Who are you?" I whisper, releasing her.

She sits up, still calm. "The lady you killed."

"I didn't kill anyone," I snap.

"Oh, but killing me wasn't enough. You had to drag me here with you," she says, eyes blazing.

"Stop lying!" I scream. "I don't even know you!"

"Yes, you do, Tittie."

Everything inside me shatters.

Only one person ever called me that.

My best friend.

My editor.

The person who murdered me.

"You… you killed me," I say, staggering to my feet, grabbing onto a stable door for balance. "Why, Sky? I trusted you."

She stands too, tears burning behind her fury.

"You abandoned me," she says. "When things got good for you—you left."

Noises outside the stables catch our attention.

She stiffens, then bolts to the back, slipping behind a stack of hay bales.

I try to run too—but my foot catches on something, and I go down hard. A sharp pain shoots through my leg.

Great. I've twisted my ankle.

Gritting my teeth, I reach for the stable door to hoist myself up. Instead, it swings open—and a horse steps out.

He pauses, eyes me like I'm an amusing mess, then snorts and trots off.

"Finally, help," I mutter.

The horse ignores me and saunters out of the stable.

"How rude."

"Who let the horse out?" a voice calls from outside.

I exhale sharply, slumping against the wall. Please, let them find me. Let them see me.

"Lady Iris?" another voice says—this time closer, more familiar.

I turn my head—and find myself staring at an audience.

"I can explain," I say flashing the amused spectators a smile.