Footprints Beneath Falling Snow

Chapter 4: The Old Promise

I found the service passage unlocked.

Mrs. Wren had done what she could. The guard at the stairs was the same young man she'd mentioned, and he blushed when I asked him to step aside.

"I'm sorry, Miss Bell."

"So am I."

I made it down one flight before Adrian's security chief stopped me.

"Your Majesty asked that you remain in the west apartments."

"Tell him I'm going to the archive."

"I can't."

"Then walk with me."

He considered the request, then fell in beside me. He was not a guard who enjoyed the work. I knew his name was Owen Pike, and that he had a daughter in the palace school. I didn't ask him to risk his job. I only asked him to let me reach the archive without dragging me back.

He walked beside me all the way there.

My old office was on the second floor, just beyond the records room. The drawers had been opened. Papers were stacked in uneven piles, and the lock on my desk had been forced.

I glanced at Owen. "Did you do this?"

"No."

"Was it the king?"

"I don't know."

I believed that answer. I also believed Adrian had let the search happen.

The book I wanted was a battered atlas of the northern coastline. I had hidden a sealed envelope behind the map of Bellwether, where the paper had begun to separate from the binding. It was empty.

I searched the rest of the shelf, then the desk, then the cabinets. Nothing.

My hands started to shake. I forced myself to stop and think. The missing envelope contained a letter from Queen Helena, written in her last clear week. It did not accuse Laurent directly. It asked me to preserve the relief accounts and said that "the people who count on us cannot be allowed to disappear into the accounts."

Adrian had heard her say the same thing. He had been standing at the bed when she made me promise.

"What are you looking for?" Owen asked.

"A letter."

"Could the king have taken it?"

"Possibly."

"Could someone else?"

"More likely."

I looked at the broken lock. If Laurent had ordered the search, he would have wanted the page, not the letter. But the letter's existence might matter to him.

A door opened behind us.

Adrian stood in the threshold, his crown gone. "I told you not to leave the suite."

"I wasn't going to stay in a room you locked."

He glanced at the desk. "What's missing?"

"You tell me."

"If I knew, I wouldn't ask."

"You would."

He turned to Owen. "Leave us."

Owen hesitated. "Your Majesty—"

"Now."

The security chief went into the corridor. Adrian closed the door, but did not lock it.

"You searched my office," I said.

"I asked for a security sweep."

"You let someone take a letter."

"I didn't take anything."

"I didn't say you did."

His expression tightened. "You think I ordered this because I wanted to threaten you?"

"I think you're willing to let other people do things you'd never do yourself."

He didn't deny it. I hated that more than an argument.

"Do you remember the winter after your mother died?" I asked.

"Yes."

"You stood in the snow outside her room. You told me you'd rather freeze than go back in."

"I remember."

"You said if you ever became king, you'd never lock someone in a room for being difficult."

"I remember that too."

"You gave your word."

"I gave it to you."

"That was the problem. You only had to keep it if you thought I still mattered."

The accusation landed harder than I expected. His gaze shifted to the window. I had kept that moment polished in my memory, a small promise made by a boy who had lost his mother. I hadn't asked him to be perfect. I had thought he would at least recognize the shape of his own betrayal.

"I'm trying to stop Laurent from using you," he said.

"You've already used me. You've let the country turn me into your secret."

"You are not my secret."

"The headline says otherwise."

"I can't control every paper."

"You control what you say."

He came closer, stopping short of the desk. "If I name you as the person who found the missing money, Laurent will make you the center of the inquiry. He'll question your work, your access, your relationship with my mother."

"And if I'm your mistress, none of that matters?"

"It makes you harder to use."

"It makes me easier to dismiss."

He looked at me without answering.

I went to the door. "I'm leaving this room."

"I can't let you leave the palace."

"Then you're still breaking your promise."

I opened the door before he could stop me. Owen was waiting outside. He walked me back to the winter rooms without a word.

That evening, I began writing down every name I could remember from the accounts. I kept the list short and precise. If the palace had taken the letter, I needed a different way to prove that Helena had known about the theft.

Outside the window, fresh snow covered the patrol tracks.

I watched it gather until the path disappeared.