A CROWN BETWEEN US

The first thing Finnian Cross noticed about the royal palace was that it had no warmth. Its enormous stone walls rose above the city like a warning, dark and unyielding beneath the pale morning sky. Tall towers watched over the streets below, while banners bearing the golden crown of Eldoria moved slowly in the cold wind. The palace was beautiful. That was what people said. Finnian could see why. Its walls were carved with intricate patterns. Its windows reflected the early sunlight. Its gardens stretched beyond the gates in perfect order. But beauty did not make it innocent. To Finnian, the palace looked like a monument built to remind the people of Eldoria that the Crown stood above them. Powerful. Untouchable. And protected by laws that had destroyed lives. He stood at the bottom of the wide stone steps with a small leather bag resting against his side. Merchants pushed heavy carts toward the service entrance while servants hurried through the gates carrying baskets, letters, and bundles of freshly washed linen. No one looked at him twice. No one asked why he had come. No one knew who he really was. That was exactly what he needed. Finnian lowered his head and joined the line. “Name?” The guard’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. Finnian stopped beside a wooden table positioned near the gate. A large book lay open in front of the guard, its pages filled with the names of servants, workers, merchants, and visitors entering the palace. For a brief moment, Finnian’s fingers tightened around the strap of his bag. Then he forced himself to relax. “Finn Vale,” he answered. The name felt strange. It was supposed to. The real Finnian Cross had no reason to be welcomed inside the royal palace. The Crown had already taken enough from the Cross family. The guard dipped his pen into a small bottle of ink. “Age?” “Twenty-two.” “Village?” “Westmere.” “Previous employment?” “House servant.” The guard wrote each answer without looking at him. Finnian watched the pen move steadily across the page. A false name. A false village. A false history. Every answer had been prepared long before he reached the palace. Only one thing was real. His reason for coming. The guard pushed the book toward him. “Sign.” Finnian accepted the pen. His gaze rested on the empty line. For one second, he imagined writing his real name. Finnian Cross. He imagined watching the guard recognize it. He imagined the palace gates closing. But he had not spent years preparing for revenge only to lose everything before stepping inside. He lowered the pen. Finn Vale. The false name appeared beneath the others. The guard studied the signature before closing the book. “You’ll report to the servants’ quarters,” he said. “Ask for Mistress Elowen. She’ll assign your duties.” Finnian returned the pen. “Thank you.” The guard waved him through without another word. That was all. No suspicion. Finnian walked beneath the enormous iron gates and entered the palace. The noise of the city faded behind him. The palace grounds opened before him—wide stone paths, carefully trimmed gardens, fountains, and towering buildings connected by long corridors. Servants moved quickly between the different wings while royal guards stood beside every entrance. Finnian kept his gaze lowered. But he watched everything. The number of guards. The direction of the corridors. The doors marked with royal symbols. The windows overlooking the courtyard. The narrow spaces where shadows gathered. He memorized them all. Years of waiting had brought him here. His brother had once walked through these same gates. Elias had entered the palace believing he could change something. He had believed the truth mattered. Then the Crown had condemned him. Finnian slipped one hand into his coat pocket. His fingers closed around the small object hidden there. Cold metal. Worn edges. A broken royal seal. The only thing left behind after Elias was taken. Finnian held it tightly. I’m here now, he thought. His jaw tightened. And I will find out what they did to you. A bell rang from one of the palace towers. The sound echoed across the courtyard. Servants immediately moved faster. “Out of the way!” Finnian stepped aside as two men carried a large wooden chest past him. A woman wearing a gray palace uniform approached. “You.” Finnian looked up. She was older, with silver hair pulled tightly beneath a dark cap. A heavy ring of keys rested against her belt. “Yes?” Finnian asked. “You’re the new servant?” “Yes, ma’am.” “Finn Vale?” “That’s me.” She studied him for a moment. “You’re late.” Finnian glanced toward the sky. “I arrived as soon as the gates opened.” “Then you should have arrived earlier.” He paused. There was no useful answer to that. “Yes, ma’am,” he said instead. The woman turned away. “Follow me.” Finnian lifted his bag and followed her through a narrow entrance. The warmth inside the palace surprised him. Large fireplaces burned along the walls, and golden lamps hung from the high ceilings. Portraits of former kings and queens covered the corridors. Every face looked proud. Every crown looked heavy. “Don’t touch anything,” the woman said without looking back. “I won’t.” “Don’t speak unless someone speaks to you.” “Understood.” “Don’t look directly at members of the royal family.” Finnian raised an eyebrow. “Even if they speak to me?” The woman stopped. She looked over her shoulder. “Especially then.” Finnian lowered his gaze. “Yes, ma’am.” She continued walking. “The palace has rules,” she said. “You follow them, and you keep your position. You break them, and you leave.” Finnian’s expression remained calm. If only leaving were the worst thing the Crown did to people. They entered a long hall lined with wooden doors. “Servants’ quarters are downstairs,” the woman explained. “The kitchens are to the east. The laundry rooms are beneath the south wing. You’ll learn the rest later.” She stopped beside a staircase. “What will I be doing?” Finnian asked. “You’ve been assigned to the royal wing.” His attention sharpened. “The royal wing?” “Yes.” “Whose service?” The woman gave him a warning look. “You ask too many questions for someone who arrived ten minutes ago.” “I only want to understand my duties.” “You’ll understand them when you need to.” She started down the stairs. Finnian followed quietly. The royal wing. That was better than he expected. He had prepared himself to spend weeks earning access to the royal family’s private areas. Instead, the palace had placed him near them on his first day. Perhaps luck had finally chosen his side. Or perhaps the palace was offering him something before taking it away. They reached the servants’ quarters. The room was crowded with narrow beds and wooden chests. Several servants looked up as Finnian entered. “This is Finn,” the older woman announced. “He’ll be working in the royal wing.” A few servants exchanged surprised looks. One young man stepped forward. “You’re working near the prince?” Finnian glanced at Mistress Elowen. “I don’t know.” “You’re lucky,” the young servant said. “Why?” The servant smiled. “Prince Alaric is kinder than most royals.” Finnian remained silent. Kindness does not erase what the Beaumont family has done. The thought stayed inside him. Kindness did not bring Elias back. It did not explain why his brother’s name had disappeared from the royal records. And it did not erase the law that had destroyed his family. Mistress Elowen handed him a folded uniform. “Put this on. You’ll begin immediately.” Finnian accepted it. “Yes, Mistress Elowen.” She walked away. Finnian waited until the room returned to its usual noise before opening his leather bag. Beneath a change of clothes was a folded piece of paper. He carefully removed it. The paper was old and faded. Three words had been written across it. Find the hidden record. Finnian stared at the message. It was the final instruction Elias had left behind. Finnian folded the paper and returned it to his bag. Then he changed into the palace uniform. An hour later, Finnian stood outside the royal wing. Two guards watched the corridor. A young servant beside him carried a silver tray filled with letters. “You’re new, aren’t you?” she asked quietly. “Yes.” “Then stay close. The prince’s schedule is strict.” Finnian glanced toward the large doors at the end of the hall. “Does he spend much time here?” “Prince Alaric?” “Yes.” “He spends most mornings with the royal council. He returns before noon.” Finnian nodded. The servant lowered her voice. “Don’t upset him.” “I wasn’t planning to.” “He notices everything.” Finnian glanced down the corridor. “So do I.” They continued walking. The royal wing was quieter than the rest of the palace. Gold patterns decorated the walls, and thick carpets covered the stone floor. Every door carried the Beaumont symbol. Finnian counted them. One. Two. Three. Then something caught his attention. Behind a large statue at the end of the corridor stood a narrow wooden door. No guard watched it. No servant entered or left. It was almost hidden. Finnian slowed. “What’s behind that door?” he asked. The young servant looked at him. “Which door?” “The one behind the statue.” Her expression changed. “Don’t go near it.” “Why?” “It’s restricted.” “To whom?” “To everyone.” Finnian looked toward the door again. Something about it felt important. Perhaps it was only curiosity. Perhaps it was instinct. Or perhaps years of searching had taught him to recognize a secret when he saw one. The servant continued walking. Finnian followed,but only until she turned the corner. Then he stopped. The corridor was empty. He glanced toward the guards. They were speaking to each other. He had only a few seconds. Finnian stepped behind the statue. The door was older than the others. Its wood was dark, and a small royal symbol had been carved into its center. He reached for the handle. Locked. Of course. He examined the edges. No visible keyhole. Then he noticed a small mark beneath the royal symbol. A circle. Inside it was the shape of a crown. The same symbol engraved on the broken seal in his pocket. Finnian’s breath caught. He pulled the seal from his coat. The metal was damaged, but the symbol was unmistakable. His brother had carried this. His brother had been connected to this door. Finnian stepped closer. He pressed the broken seal against the carved symbol. For a moment, nothing happened. Then,click. The sound was quiet. But it was enough. Finnian froze. The door opened slightly. Cold air moved through the narrow gap. His heart began to race. He looked down the corridor. No one. He pushed the door wider. Darkness waited beyond it. Finnian stepped inside. The door closed behind him. He turned quickly. There was no handle on the inside. His hand moved across the wood. Nothing. He pushed. The door did not move. His stomach tightened. He was trapped. A faint sound came from somewhere deeper in the darkness. Footsteps. Slow. Approaching. Finnian backed away. The footsteps stopped. Then a voice spoke from the shadows“Who gave you permission to enter my private corridor?”.