Beyond the Stars

Chapter 8: Son and Daughter

Hmm... I was awake, but I didn't want to rise and face the day. The bed was too soft, the blankets too warm, the scent of lavender too calming. The mattress almost cradled me, urging me to stay. For a fleeting second, I let myself pretend I was back in Manila, safe in my room, about to hear Nanay's voice call me down for breakfast.

But when I opened my eyes, the truth struck. I wasn't in Manila. I wasn't even in Therondia. I was in the palace of Caspian, in a room far too large and elegant to belong to me. The pink curtains glowed with the early morning sun, and the carved dresser gleamed like polished ivory. Everything here whispered wealth, royalty, and danger.

I sat up slowly, my body still heavy from exhaustion. Before I could even fix the bed, the doors opened and a line of maids entered, balancing trays piled high with food. My jaw dropped at the sight—steaming bowls, breads wrapped in silk cloths, meats roasted to perfection, fruits arranged like art.

"Milady," one maid said with a polite bow, "the Queen commanded that you must be served a proper breakfast. Please, choose what pleases you."

My first instinct was to refuse. How could I deserve any of this? "No," I tried to mouth, shaking my head.

The maid smiled faintly, but her eyes stayed firm. "The Queen's orders are not to be disobeyed. You must choose."

I sighed inwardly. Reluctantly, I pointed at the tapsilog with hot chocolate and sliced mangoes. The moment the plate was set before me, the maids stepped back, one of them raising a spoon as if to feed me. I quickly waved my hands. I could still eat on my own.

Each bite was heavenly, the flavors so rich and precise it almost hurt to swallow. In Manila, tapsilog was comfort food from a carinderia. Here, it was transformed into something fit for royalty. I finished slowly, savoring, but guilt tugged at me. This treatment was too much.

After breakfast, I left the room, grateful that Queen Barbara had permitted me to roam the palace. My mission was clear: find Prince Sinag. If he was here, he needed to answer for what Queen Marikit had told me. He needed to apologize—or at least admit the truth.

The palace was a maze. I opened door after door: guest rooms, libraries, armories filled with gleaming weapons. Every corner of the palace was immaculate, polished, alive with the quiet shuffle of servants. But no sign of the prince.

Two doors remained untouched. One was enormous, gilded in gold, clearly belonging to the King and Queen. The other, right beside it, was smaller but marked with a heavy sign: Do Not Open.

My curiosity gnawed at me. My conscience warned against it. But curiosity won.

I pressed the door gently open and peeked inside. The air smelled faintly of steel and cedar. The room was neat, organized, every surface carefully arranged. A sword hung above the bed's headboard, polished to a mirror sheen. The cabinet, when I dared to pull it open, revealed rows of tunics, folded with military precision.

This had to be Prince Sinag's room.

It looked ordinary—too ordinary for someone accused of being a villain. Where was he? Surely, if he lived here, there would be signs of him. But the room was silent, empty, frozen in time.

Disappointed, I left the palace quietly. If he wasn't here, maybe I could find him somewhere else in Caspian. My legs carried me farther and farther from the castle walls, past gardens and cobblestone paths, until I reached the quieter stretches of land.

Still, no sign of him.

I was about to give up when I felt it—that odd sensation again, like a presence brushing against me. I turned sharply, but no one was there. A whisper of air nudged me, urging me to follow. Against reason, I obeyed.