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The walled village stood ahead of us, its rough-hewn stone barricade stretching into the distance.

Watchtowers punctuated the wall at regular intervals, and the iron-reinforced gate stood as an imposing reminder that no one entered the fringe territories without permission.

Two guards in military uniforms stood at attention, their faces hard as they scrutinized each traveler.

Exactly as I remembered it. The last time I’d seen this gate was when I’d been forced through it in chains, my family in tow, stripped of everything but the clothes on our backs.

“Let me handle this,” Anderic said, straightening his shoulders as we approached.

I bit back a laugh. “By all means, Your Highness.”

He shot me a glare before striding toward the guards with all the arrogance of a man who’d never been denied entry anywhere in his life. I followed a step behind, already calculating how much money I’d need to part with to fix the mess he was about to create.

“Halt,” one guard barked, holding up a hand. “State your business.”

Anderic lifted his chin. “I am Prince Anderic Voltaire, heir to the throne of Aetheria. I demand entry immediately.”

The guards exchanged glances before both burst into laughter so hard that one had to wipe tears from his eyes.

“And I’m the King of Aetheria,” the taller guard wheezed, slapping his thigh. “Should I bow to myself, then?”

The second guard snorted. “Perhaps we should build you a new palace while we’re at it, Your Majesty .”

Anderic’s face flushed crimson. “What insolence! How dare you mock the crown? I could have you both flogged for such disrespect!” His hand drifted to his sword hilt. “When my father hears of this—”

The laughter died instantly. Both guards’ hands moved to their weapons, expressions hardening dangerously.

“Is that a threat, boy?” the first guard growled.

Wonderful. Just wonderful.

“Forgive my companion,” I interrupted smoothly, stepping between them. I laid a restraining hand on Anderic’s arm, squeezing hard enough to bruise. “He’s had a difficult journey, and his sense of humor needs work.”

Anderic opened his mouth to protest, but I dug my nails into his arm until he winced.

“We’re merchants,” I continued, lowering my voice conspiratorially. “Looking to secure some… special items from the northern territories. For the right clients, of course.”

I pulled out the bank notes, casually allowing the guards to see just how many I had before selecting half and offering them with a demure smile. “Perhaps you gentlemen could help expedite our entry? We’d be ever so grateful.”

Their eyes widened at the amount. The taller guard cleared his throat, suddenly professional. “Well, I suppose we could make an exception. For merchants.”

His companion nodded eagerly, pocketing the money. “Official documentation can be… flexible for the right consideration.”

“You’re too kind,” I purred.

The gates creaked open, and the first guard waved us through with a bow to me and a sneer to Anderic. “Only for the gracious lady’s sake are we allowing your companion entry. Keep him on a shorter leash, my lady.”

Anderic’s eyes darkened to midnight blue, a muscle working in his jaw. I could feel the fury radiating from him in waves.

“Thank you, gentlemen. Your assistance won’t be forgotten,” I said, practically dragging Anderic through the gate before he could start a war.

“Not a word,” I hissed as the gates closed behind us. “Not. One. Word.”

I dragged Anderic away from the guards until we were safely out of earshot. Crossing my arms, I fixed him with a meaningful look that I hoped conveyed the full extent of my exasperation.

“What?” he challenged, a defensive edge to his voice.

“ What? ” I mimicked. “You nearly got us killed with that royal decree nonsense. These people don’t care if you’re the king himself. Out here, titles mean nothing—only money and survival.”

Anderic ran a hand through his golden curls, his expression darkening as he surveyed the muddy streets and dilapidated structures around us. The fringe village sprawled before us—a maze of ramshackle buildings, weathered faces, and desperate lives.

“Fine,” he sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I’ll listen to your advice. But this place…” His voice trailed off as his gaze swept over the squalor.

“Not quite the royal accommodations you’re used to, is it?” I couldn’t keep the bitterness from my voice.

“Commander Maxwell,” I continued, redirecting our focus. “He’ll be at the official building. I know the way.”

Anderic’s blue eyes narrowed. “How could you possibly know that? How could any of what you’ve told me be possible? It doesn’t make sense, Ilyana.”

I met his skeptical gaze steadily. “You might not believe me, Your Highness, but it’s the truth. My truth.”

We walked in silence after that, Anderic’s expression growing increasingly troubled as he took in the reality of exile.

Children with hollow cheeks played in the dirt with makeshift toys.

The stench of unwashed bodies and desperation hung in the air.

Haunting memories surfaced with each step I took—this path was etched into my soul.

Here I was again, standing on the very street where I’d had vegetables, dirt, and rocks thrown at me daily. Ironically, those were actually some of the better memories I had of this place.

Anderic stopped suddenly, his attention caught by a group of small children huddled near a puddle, pushing crude boats made of bark across the muddy water.

“Why are there children here?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“When the head of a family commits a crime, everyone is exiled,” I explained flatly. “Husband—if not executed, wife, children—it doesn’t matter if they’re innocent. The punishment extends to all.”

Anderic’s jaw tightened, a muscle working beneath his skin. He said nothing, but I could see something shifting behind his eyes.

We continued until we reached a stone building marginally better maintained than its neighbors. Two guards flanked its entrance, their uniforms crisp despite the surroundings.

“This is the official building,” I said.

Anderic turned to me then, really looked at me, his gaze piercing and contemplative. “You truly know this place,” he said slowly. “You’ve been here before.”

I looked away. “Wait here. I’ll talk to the guards.”

I approached with my most charming smile, attempting the same sweet-talking strategy that had worked at the gate. But these men were different—their eyes cold, their postures rigid. Maxwell’s men, through and through.

“No visitors,” the taller one barked. “Commander’s orders.”

I tried bribes, flattery, and even a hint of a threat. Nothing worked.

I returned to Anderic, frustration evident in my steps. “They won’t budge. They’re Maxwell’s trusted guards.”

“So how do we meet him?” Anderic asked, surprisingly calm.

I paused, thinking back to my past life. The answer came in a flash of inspiration—or perhaps a flash of painful memory.

“The mines,” I said. “He comes to check them routinely. We can intercept him there.”

I led the way without waiting for his response, navigating the village’s winding paths with practiced ease. As we walked, the weight of memory pressed down on me.

“My brother worked here,” I found myself saying. “Sebastian. On his last day, he was brutally beaten by the underlings of the new overseer.” My voice caught. “I found him here, broken and bleeding. I carried him back to our hut.”

I closed my eyes, the memory vivid and raw. Sebastian’s blood on my hands, his ragged breathing, the hopelessness in his eyes.

“Lya,” Anderic’s voice was soft, uncertain. He reached out as if to touch my shoulder, then hesitated.

I blinked back tears and forced a smile. “Come on. The guards here are easier to persuade.”

At the mine’s entrance, I approached the sentries with renewed determination. A sweet smile, a few well-placed compliments, and the remainder of our bribe money secured us passage inside.

“Follow me,” I whispered to Anderic as we entered the dark tunnel. “I know exactly where Maxwell will be.”

The mines grew darker as we moved deeper inside, the air thickening with dust that coated my lungs with each breath.

Anderic stayed close behind me, his royal posture oddly out of place among the roughly hewn stone walls and crude timber supports.

The distant clanging of pickaxes created a grim percussion that echoed through the tunnels.

“There,” I whispered, pointing to a wide chamber ahead where several guards stood at attention around a makeshift desk. “That’s Maxwell’s station when he visits.”

Behind the desk sat Commander Maxwell himself, just as I remembered him—rigid posture, steely eyes, and hands that had taken my family’s lives without hesitation. My heart hammered against my ribs. Last time I’d seen those hands, they were covered in Sebastian’s blood.

“Stay calm,” Anderic murmured, noticing my trembling hands. “Let me do the talking.”

Right, because that worked so well at the gate. But I merely nodded, not trusting my voice.

We approached, and Maxwell looked up, his brow furrowing at the unfamiliar faces. Up close, he looked older than I remembered—more gray in his closely cropped hair, deeper lines around his mouth. Or maybe I hadn’t noticed his appearance that well that night.

“Who are you? This area is restricted,” he barked, his hand instinctively moving to his sword hilt.

Anderic stepped forward, shoulders back in that impossibly regal way of his. “I’ve come to discuss matters of state security, Commander.”

Maxwell’s face hardened. “And who exactly are you to discuss such matters?”

“Prince Anderic Voltaire,” Anderic stated simply.

A bark of laughter escaped Maxwell’s throat. “Is that so? And I’m the Lord of Thornvale.” He gestured to his guards. “Remove these imposters before I lose my patience.”