CHAPTER 25
Robert stood at the training grounds, issuing orders as officials prepared to escort Juliet's family to the Kingdom of Alasgacar. The midday sun burned overhead, casting long shadows on the stone pavement. His mind was occupied with multiple tasks when a sharp chime from his pocket snapped his attention.
A message.
His eyes flickered with urgency as he read it. The tea house has confirmed the order for baked bread.
For a brief moment, his breath hitched. Wiping the coat of sweat from his brow, he turned swiftly, delegating the remaining orders to another commander before making his way to Grace.
She was in the middle of a council meeting, seated at the head of the long mahogany table, surrounded by high-ranking officials. Their voices filled the room with discussions of policy and coronation protocols, but the moment Robert leaned in and whispered in her ear, everything else faded into the background.
Her expression didn't falter. She cast a measured glance at the council executives before rising from her seat. "This meeting is dismissed. Something urgent requires my attention," she announced, leaving no room for argument.
Without delay, they mounted their horses. Grace pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, her grip tightening on the reins. They didn't request a single guard to accompany them. As they rode through the palace gates, a pair of sharp eyes observed them from above.
Queen Judith stood by the window, watching them disappear into the city streets. Her expression remained unreadable.
The streets of Alasgacar were alive with activity. Towering buildings lined the paths, their grand structures casting elongated shadows across the cobbled roads. But it was the people who made the kingdom unique, each citizen was tall, their height a striking feature of their lineage. Children, women, and men alike, all carried the stature of warriors.
As Grace and Robert passed through, whispers followed. Bows and respectful nods greeted them, eyes flickering with recognition
at Prince Quicke.
Even as she remained veiled beneath her cloak, they still acknowledged her title.
It wasn't until they were beyond prying eyes that Robert led them through a quiet turn, directing them toward the tea house.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of baked bread and herbal tea. Dim lanterns cast an amber glow over wooden tables, and murmurs of conversation blended into the gentle clinking of cups.
The moment they entered, the waiter took notice of Robert and immediately approached. He leaned in and whispered, discreetly pointing toward the far end of the establishment. "There."
Robert gave a small nod before turning to Grace.
Her steps were measured as she approached the dimly lit area. Even with her face obscured, she could feel the weight of curious stares pressing against her, trying to decipher who she was.
At the secluded table, Mathew Sterrn sat, his fingers tapping lightly against the surface.
The moment she neared, his voice cut through the air. "You came looking for me again, Grace Johnson."
Her steps faltered for a fraction of a second, but she quickly recovered. "You seem to know everyone who comes looking for you," she responded smoothly, lowering herself into the chair and adjusting her cloak.
A brief silence passed between them before Mathew finally spoke again.
"I knew you'd come." His voice was deep, deliberate. "Your coronation is in a few hours, Juliet's family is en route, and " he paused, slicing into his bread, "Queen Jonah, your murderer, is on her way as well."
Grace stiffened.
He glanced up at her. "Your time is running out."
She took a slow breath before speaking. "I know." Her voice was quieter now. "But before I lose what little time I have left, tell me, who are you? How do you know about my death? And how is it that you're here, in a kingdom that only allows entry by marriage or sealed assignment?" Her tone was calm.
Mathew didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached forward and switched on the small lantern at his table.
The dim glow illuminated his features, and for the first time, Grace truly saw him.
Sharp black eyes. A face sculpted with precision. Skin glistening as if he had just stepped out of a bath. A pointed nose, and lips that curled slightly with each bite of bread he took.
She was caught off guard.
For a moment, her thoughts betrayed her, admiring the sheer intensity of his presence.
Under her breath, she whispered, "Goddamn."
Mathew smirked slightly, but if he heard her, he didn't acknowledge it, she was in a man's body and shouldn't do that.
Then, with a measured exhale, he leaned forward. "That night, when Queen Jonah and Lady Juliet arrived at your home" he began, his voice lower now, edged with something unreadable. "You had originally contracted me to fix your electronics on a budget, of course, since you didn't have much. We never met in person, only through written agreements. But when I arrived, I knocked several times, and you didn't answer." He exhaled. "So, I let myself in."
The air between them grew heavier.
"I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but as I entered, I heard the argument between you and Queen Jonah. Something about one Parkston." His gaze darkened. "I hid behind the cabinet, not wanting to interrupt."
Grace's fingers curled slightly.
"And then" Mathew's jaw tensed. "The struggle started. You and Queen Jonah fought. I watched as she overpowered you, as you fell. For a moment, I thought she would at least try to move your body but she didn't care."
Grace's breathing shallowed.
"She and Juliet dragged you toward the furnace." His voice turned rigid. "That's when I saw it. You were still alive."
Grace's heart slammed against her ribs.
"I thought they'd rush you to a hospital," Mathew continued. "That maybe, just maybe you'd be treated and saved."
A heavy pause.
"But they didn't." His voice was like steel now. "They burned you alive."
The room blurred.
Grace barely realized she was trembling. Her chest rose and fell with short, erratic breaths.
A sharp pain shot through her temples, memories clawing their way back into her mind. Smoke. Heat. The suffocating furnace.
Her body betrayed her, and before she could stop it, a single tear slipped down her cheek, she wiped it away quickly.
Her gaze hardened. "That's enough." Her voice was now cold and dismissive.
"What do I do from here?" she asked, straightening. "How do I make them pay?"
Mathew studied her, his expression unreadable. His gaze flickered toward Robert, who remained at a distance.
"Does he know?"
Grace's lips pressed together. "No. But he has suspicions." She exhaled. "And I fear they're right. But I don't know if he's ready."
Mathew gave a slow nod. "It's better that you tell him before he finds out on his own." His tone was firm. "If he uncovers the truth before you give it to him, he might learn more than even you know."
He continued. "And as for your killers". Mathew leaned back slightly. "Make them comfortable. Build trust. You don't want to strike before they fully let their guard down."
Grace narrowed her eyes. "But how do I do that without proper guidance?"
Mathew's gaze darkened. "You hear a voice, don't you?"
Grace froze. "Yes."
"When it speaks again," he said, "don't interrupt it. Let it finish. Don't ask questions. Don't scream, let it guide you, If you break the silence, It will disappear."