Page 19 of Revert (The Royal Chronicles #4)

T he shift in the changing of the guard was subtle—the kind only someone who watched everything would notice.

Halric always lingered for a word with the replacement when they crossed paths near the south hall, a detail I’d marked days ago.

My pulse quickened as we approached the corner leading towards the royal wing.

Another glance confirmed what I already knew: other than the men trailing me, the corridor was clear.

Perfect.

It required careful maneuvering to slip away from my guards, but I’d done it before. Tonight it was imperative I succeed again. I slowed my pace deliberately, fingers drifting to my brow in a fluid, practiced motion.

“Is something amiss, Your Highness?” Halric’s voice was polite but alert.

I softened my usual poise just enough. “I think I’ll take a turn through the conservatory. With the strain from the late hour after last night’s long dancing, I could do with some fresh air.”

I shaped my voice into something delicate and faintly distressed. Guards were taught not to crowd noblewomen when their moods veered towards the fragile; I had learned early in Thorndale that if you appeared brittle, even the sharpest eyes softened.

Halric exchanged a glance with the younger guard, then offered a stiff bow. “We’ll remain near the entrance, Princess.”

I inclined my head in thanks, careful to mask my tension as I turned. Each measured step felt stretched; behind me, their footfalls slowed, granting me the illusion of privacy.

The faint scent of damp leaves enfolded me as I slipped beneath the arch into the conservatory.

I didn’t pause to admire the flowers, as was my usual routine, my focus fixed on the far corner, where an ivy-laced wall half-concealed a stand of potted orchids…

including the pot that no one but me touched.

Or as I had assumed. Now after Prince Castiel’s strange allusion about choosing my hiding places more carefully and him appearing to know about the spy before I began searching for them, I wasn’t so certain.

I didn’t rush, each movement controlled and deliberate. My skirts whispered across the cobblestones as I stepped onto the side path, glancing once over my shoulder—no shadows, no flicker of movement at the glass-paned door. Good.

With an unsteady breath I knelt by the pot, fingers brushing the soft spill of dirt at its base.

My hand froze. The soil had been disturbed.

Carefully, I swept aside the upper layer…

and my heart plunged. The tiny pouch I had hidden days ago—the one holding the folded message my only ally inside this viper’s court had pointed me to in their exchanged message last night—was gone.

Someone has been here. A faint tremor rippled through me. I pressed my palm against my pounding heart, willing the panic cinching my chest to loosen.

I slowly straightened, forcing calm into each rigid motion, even as dread twisted cold and tight inside me.

Beyond the glass, I heard the faint shift of my guards’ boots, no doubt watching my silhouette through the greenery.

I couldn’t let them see panic. I touched an orchid blossom, pretending to adjust a petal, a diversion that allowed me to calm my frantic breath.

What do I do now?

“One of the most important lessons to remember in espionage is: never return to the scene of the crime.”

I went still, breath catching at the familiar voice identifying the last man I wanted to discover me here. Slowly, I turned.

Prince Castiel lounged against the rim of the fountain in a picture of ease, the soft rush of water masking any sound of his presence as he lay in wait for me. Though I had carefully checked to ensure I was alone, he had concealed himself so expertly in the shadows I had missed him.

He said nothing else at first. His gaze swept over me—not in the cold, assessing way I had come to expect, but more intently, as though I were both danger and lifeline. His attention lingered on my hands, the smudges of dirt beneath my nails a confession in themselves.

He nodded to himself, as if confirming the suspicion that had haunted me since the night before that he knew exactly what I was up to.

Panic seized me in its icy grip. Instinctively, my gaze darted to his side…but once again, he had chosen to come unarmed. His sword’s absence eased the worst of my anxiety, just enough for defensiveness to rise…even though I knew that arguing would be useless.

I forced a strained smile I doubted would convince anyone. “Gardening is one of my hobbies.” The excuse sounded weak, given how rarely I set foot in the conservatory.

His brow arched slightly. “A passion you’ve taken up quite recently, it seems.” He sighed.

“Perhaps cryptic warnings aren’t enough to prevent you from marching straight into danger.

It seems if you’re determined to be reckless, I have no choice but to watch you more carefully to keep you from getting into mischief. ”

I found myself caught between horror and some unnamed emotion at the thought of drawing even more of his attention. “I don’t know what you mean.” But my voice trembled, betraying me.

His mouth curved faintly, something between amusement and exasperation. “Still playing coy? You didn’t truly think it would truly be so easy when Halric used to be my guard, did you?”

I clenched my teeth as his meaning settled over me. Halric . Of course. I should have known the same skill and competence that had earned him his post would circle back to haunt me.

Prince Castiel’s gaze sharpened, the edge unmistakable.

“But in this case I didn’t need his assistance, not when I anticipated your next move.

Your stubbornness seems to be eclipsing your usual sense.

You’re so determined to rebel against every command, I’m tempted to begin telling you the opposite of what I want in hopes you’ll actually listen.

” His voice dropped lower, threading between challenge and warning.

“But if you want to beat me at this game, Princess…you’ll have to do better—be constantly vigilant and remain several steps ahead, and stop making rash decisions. ”

Heat flared—frustration, humiliation, and fear tangled into one sharp knot.

“You think you’re so clever, that you’re so many steps ahead of me.” I fought to keep my voice low, but it trembled with my barely contained anger.

His eyes flicked over me, unblinking. “I’m afraid it’s not an assumption but a fact. There are far more pieces at play than you know.”

He didn’t need to remind me, not when the shifting details of this timeline were already pushing me dangerously close to the edge.

Don’t let him outmatch you here, not like this . I drew in a shaking breath. “Have you come to gloat?” Or had he come to murder me all over again? He’d done so the first time on much less evidence.

Instead of triumph, his expression shifted—a faint crease at his brow, a flicker of something quieter in his gaze. “No, I’ve come to show you this.”

He bridged the few steps to the orchid. With a fluid, deliberate motion, he reached behind the pot where I’d hidden the pouch. My breath caught as his fingers brushed the stone—and then from beneath the edge, he withdrew a worn and smudged folded scrap of paper, the message I’d hidden days ago.

My stomach lurched. “So you did take it.” I fought the temptation to snatch it from his hands; I curled my fingers at my sides to curb the reckless impulse.

“No, I retrieved it from whoever came before you did.”

The ground seemed to shift under me. “What do you plan to do with it?”

A flicker too fast to catch passed through his expression. He looked down at the folded paper, turning it once between his gloved fingers, before glancing back at me. “If you promise to be more careful…then I’ll do nothing.”

I stared at him, not daring to believe his incomprehensible actions that no matter how much I studied, failed to make sense.

“Why would you shield me? Not just now, but back in the throne room with your father, and again at the ball?” For as reluctant as I was to admit it, he’d undoubtedly been the reason I’d been able to meet with my contact last night.

At first nothing changed in his expression, but then for the first time, I detected the faintest falter at the edge as something fractured beneath his mask—the flicker of hesitation, the unspoken warning, the questions he never quite answered.

He exhaled slowly, the torchlight carving harsh shadows across his face as he turned fully towards me. “Be careful, Princess. You don’t know what lies ahead if you continue on this path.”

I was well aware of which boundaries I was crossing, ones I hadn’t dared venture even close to in the first timeline. And yet I couldn’t seem to stop.

“Then explain it to me. Please, Castiel.” Too late I realized I had spoken his name without its title. I couldn’t remember ever saying it aloud before, nor explain why it slipped from my lips now…only the startling sense of rightness, as if it had always belonged there.

For a heartbeat, his eyes locked on mine, slow and searching.

Something faint and fleeting cracked across his expression—a flicker of regret, as if he, too, was wary of the constant, brutal dance we had been forced to perform.

“I don’t have the luxury to explain myself.

Not here.” His quiet voice sounded oddly strained, the words drawn tight like something barely held together.

As if summoned by his words, muffled footsteps sounded from the corridor outside, penetrating the hush of the conservatory. His head snapped up, eyes narrowing. Instinctively, he reached for me, his hand hovering near my arm, fingers flexing as if fighting the urge to pull me close.

“It’s not safe for us to be seen talking,” he murmured, so low I barely caught the hushed words. “Come.”