The Hidden Princess

Chapter 8

The sunlight filtered through the tall windows of the castle library, catching on silver hair until it seemed to glow like captured moonlight. Elizabeth Marionette Serafine sat perfectly upright in an oversized armchair, a leather-bound tome balanced in her lap. Books lay scattered around her—piled on tables, stacked on the floor, draped open across cushions. The castle had many rooms, but she'd claimed this one as hers, filling it with every volume her brother had sent through the portal over the years

.

At sixteen, Elizabeth had grown into a striking young woman. Her features had refined into delicate beauty—high cheekbones, a small nose, lips that might have been lovely if they ever smiled. Her silver hair fell past her shoulders in a straight, shining cascade. She wore a comfortable white dress with layers of frills, practical yet feminine. A casual observer might have thought her the picture of refined nobility, reading peacefully in her sunlit sanctuary.

They would have no idea that beyond the castle walls lay the Nagitrious Forest—a death trap that had claimed countless lives.

A bell chimed somewhere in the castle—the timer she'd set for her reading interval.

Elizabeth closed the book with a soft thud. She stretched her arms above her head, then leaned back against the chair, her gaze unfocused and distant. Her face remained blank, absent of the satisfaction or contentment one might expect after a pleasant reading session.

She rose from the chair with economical grace and made her way toward the kitchen. Her movements were smooth, efficient, wasting no energy on unnecessary flourishes.

The castle kitchen was well-stocked, as always. Her brother's monthly supply deliveries ensured she never lacked for anything material. She'd been eight years old when she first arrived here with her Nanny—frightened, confused, still weak from years of starvation. The Nanny had taught her everything: how to cook, how to clean, how to mend clothes, how to maintain a household. Her brother had sent instruction manuals, supplies, tools. Everything she needed to survive alone.

Though forty years of supplies had been stockpiled, Elizabeth's mind constantly calculated. She rationed with mathematical precision, extending the timeline further. Still, the worry gnawed at her—what if the portal couldn't be fixed? What if she outlived the supplies?

And at twelve, when Nanny had died of old age, Elizabeth had put all those lessons to use.

She remembered digging the grave in the castle's small garden, her hands blistering, her body shaking with exhaustion. She'd done everything herself—washed the body, wrapped it in clean linens, carved a marker from wood. A proper burial. The only thing she could give the woman who'd kept her alive for so long.

For months afterward, she'd cried. Every night. Every morning. Until her brother's voice through the pendant had talked her through it, had reminded her that survival required function, that grief was a process but couldn't be permanent.

Eventually, the tears had stopped.

Now, at sixteen, Elizabeth could manage the entire castle alone. She cooked, cleaned, maintained the gardens, repaired what needed repairing. No one looking at her delicate frame would suspect she was capable of such work.

No one would suspect she was a princess.

She was reaching for bread and cheese when her pendant suddenly glowed warm against her chest.

Elizabeth touched it, and Ethel's voice crackled through—broken, choppy, barely coherent.

"Lisa—can—hear me—"

She frowned slightly. Something was wrong. The connection was usually clearer than this.

"I can hear you, Brother," she said. "The signal is degraded. What's the issue?"

"—blasted noblewoman—damaged the pendant—"

Despite the static, she could hear the irritation in his voice. Elizabeth tilted her head, processing. "A noblewoman interfered with your pendant?"

"—accident—these women—" The frustration came through even more clearly than the words.

Elizabeth absorbed this information. Her brother had become Emperor two years ago, after ten years of careful scheming. The late Emperor—their father—had died, caught in the web of his own court's plotting. The Imperial Court had grown afraid of an tyrant, and their assassination attempts had finally succeeded. Ethel had used their chaos to consolidate power, systematically eliminating threats, building loyalty, cleaning out the corruption.

He'd declared Elizabeth dead shortly after taking the throne. The announcement had caused uproar in foreign kingdoms, making the Imperial Court realize for the first time how many eyes had been watching the Princess. But by then, it was too late—the girl they sought was already "deceased."

The court had believed it because Ethel had spent years feeding them false information about the Princess's declining health, her sickly appearance from their father's abuse. Her death had seemed inevitable.

Now Ethel ruled alone, and apparently that made him a target of a different kind.

"Will it be repaired?" Elizabeth asked. "You're cutting off."

"—will take—month—maybe more—fix this—" His voice faded in and out. "—sorry Lisa—don't worry–I—find—way”.

"Understood," Elizabeth said. The pendant was an expensive magical tool, made of rare materials. Only a few existed. If it was damaged, repairs would take time.

"—be safe—"

Then the connection cut out entirely.

Elizabeth stood in the kitchen, the pendant dark and cool against her skin once more. She felt... something. A hollowness in her chest. Not quite sadness, not quite worry. Just an absence where her brother's voice had been.

She understood logically that he was busy. That being Emperor required constant attention. That noblewomen and politicians would always seek his favor. That his life was complicated in ways hers wasn't.

But understanding didn't fill the hollow feeling.

She looked down at the bread and cheese she'd been about to prepare. Her appetite had vanished. She took the leftover bread from yesterday's meal instead, along with some dried fruit, and returned to the library.

Elizabeth settled back into her chair, opened her book, and began to read while eating. The words were about agricultural practices in the Eastern Provinces. Informative. Useful, perhaps, if she ever expanded the castle gardens.

She chewed the bread without tasting it.

Outside, the Nagitrious Forest whispered with wind and distant monster calls.

Inside, Elizabeth read alone, though the feeling her restlessness did not allow her to understand what she was reading.