A Heart Divided

Chapter 29

The Hidden Truth

The room was small, with low ceilings and narrow windows covered by thick, dark curtains that shut out what little light the late afternoon had left. The air smelled of damp wood and earth, a mustiness that spoke of years of secrecy. The flickering flame of a single candle cast long, dancing shadows across the stone walls, adding to the sense of unease that gnawed at Eliza's stomach.

Alden stood close beside her, his hand hovering protectively near the hilt of his dagger, his eyes darting around the room as if expecting an ambush. Eliza's pulse thrummed in her neck, the weight of their situation sinking in. They had come so far, but now, as they stood in the shadows of Blackthorn, nothing felt certain.

"Who are you?" Alden's voice was calm, but the tension in his words was undeniable.

James gave a small, dry chuckle, though there was no mirth in it. He motioned for them to sit at a table against the far wall, where a rough-hewn chair sat beside an empty one. "I think you've earned the right to know," he said, his voice soft, almost conspiratorial. He didn't sit, but instead leaned against the stone wall, folding his arms.

Eliza sat down cautiously, still unsure whether this man was friend or foe.

"I know you're both running from the Duke's men," James continued, his eyes flicking to her. "I also know more than just that. I know who you are, Princess Eleanor."

Her breath hitched at the mention of her new name—her alias. She'd thought it was the perfect disguise, a way to slip past anyone looking for the runaway princess. But here, in this small room, with a man she barely knew, it felt hollow. Exposed.

James seemed to notice her reaction, but instead of pressing her further, he simply nodded. "You've been hiding long enough. But the truth about who you are... it's much bigger than you think."

Alden narrowed his eyes, but before he could speak, James went on. "The Duke is not the only one who wants you dead, Your Highness."

The words sent a chill through Eliza. She'd been running from the Duke's men, from her father's desire to use her as a political pawn in a marriage to a prince, but this—this was something else.

"Who else?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. Her chest tightened, fear gnawing at her.

James paused, his gaze darkening. "The royal family is not as it seems. There are factions within the court, secret alliances, betrayals you don't know about. People who want to see you on the throne... and those who want to see you dead."

Alden stepped forward, his expression hard. "Who's behind it, then? Who else is plotting against her?"

James's eyes flickered with a brief flash of something dark, something almost regretful. "It's not just the Duke you need to fear. Your father... He's not the man you think he is. And the prince you were promised to? He's involved too."

Eliza's mind reeled. Her father, the man who had raised her, who had taught her the ways of court, was part of this... conspiracy? The idea felt impossible, like some twisted fiction.

She looked at Alden for a moment, trying to gauge his reaction. His face was unreadable, but the tension in his body was palpable. The weight of this revelation was not just hers to carry anymore. It was theirs—together.

James continued, his voice dropping to a lower whisper, as if afraid of being overheard. "The truth is... Your mother didn't die in an accident. It was arranged. Your father had her killed."

Eliza felt her breath leave her at the sharpness of his words. The image of her mother—the woman who had once been so full of life and kindness—suddenly felt distant, like a memory she couldn't hold onto. Her mind spun. The idea that her mother's death had been orchestrated, that it had been a deliberate act... It felt impossible.

"I'm sorry to tell you this, Your Highness," James added, his voice quiet but steady, "but you're a pawn in a much larger game. Your father doesn't want you to be queen. He never did. He only wants you to be a tool, to secure an alliance with the prince he's chosen, no matter the cost."

Eliza struggled to comprehend it all. Her world—the very foundation of her life—had just crumbled beneath her feet. Everything she had known, everything she had trusted, had been built on lies.

"But what does that mean for me?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

"It means you need to be careful," James replied, his tone hardening. "Your father doesn't want you on the throne. The prince he's promised you to, though, is another story. There are people in the kingdom who want to see you married to him—who believe it will solidify the Duke's power. But they're not just after you. They're after everything you stand for. You're a symbol of the old order, the old ways of the kingdom. And that's what they need to destroy."

Alden stepped forward, his eyes locked on James. "So what are we supposed to do now? If we can't go back to the palace—if the Duke's men are after her—what chance do we have?"

James took a deep breath, his eyes flicking between them both. "Your best chance is to stay off the grid. You're not just running from the Duke. You're running from the entire royal court. There's a rebel group—hidden deep within the kingdom—who are against the current regime. They've been watching you for a long time. But they'll only help you if you prove you're willing to fight back."

Eliza's mind raced. A rebel group. Fighting back. She had spent her life as a princess—trained in diplomacy, politics, the arts of governance—but never in fighting. Could she really do this? Could she really take up arms against the very people who had raised her?

James continued, "The rebels will be your only chance. But you need to decide now. Because once you commit, there's no turning back."