Page 7 of Revert (The Royal Chronicles #4)

M y heart beat erratically as I made my way through the corridors beneath the hush of night that engulfed the palace in shadow, each step retracing those I had taken prior to my death.

The closer I drew to my destination, the more I questioned the wisdom guiding my decision, especially knowing what the danger might await should my enemy discover me again, a possibility I hadn’t given enough consideration the first time until it was far too late.

Desperation played a crucial role in tonight’s risky endeavor. One week into this second timeline, and I had nothing to show for it but maddening stagnancy. My remaining time slipped further from my grasp with each passing day, tightening the urgency coiling my chest in anxious knots.

Much of my forced inaction stemmed from my betrothed, as if Prince Castiel already suspected I was up to something.

Where once he’d shown only cool indifference, he now observed me with unnerving attention, his near-constant presence difficult to evade, rendering any meaningful investigation nigh impossible.

In my first life, we’d only interacted during our daily tea and the occasional formal gathering. Now he took nearly every meal at my side, acting more like a prison warden than a prince, his royal duties restructured to accommodate this sudden vigilance.

I endured it with as much silence as etiquette allowed, restricting myself to the stiff phrases and brittle small talk expected of our strained relationship.

He seemed content with the quiet, but I would often glance up to find him watching me over the edge of his documents, only to hastily avert his gaze when caught.

I did my best to endure the tension of these unbearable interactions without drawing undue attention, though my focus often wandered to the clock, counting down the final seconds to my release from the tedious charade.

The only small consolation was that the silence engulfing these dutiful exchanges offered welcome reprieve from the exhausting mental calculus required to ensure none of my words betrayed the truth.

Each day passed in the same dull manner, unaltered and suffocating, until a conversation towards the end of the first week gave rise to tonight’s late-night escape.

That evening, I clutched the handle of my teacup, the porcelain’s warmth grounding me against the ever-present tremor that accompanied me during these forced interactions with the man I could never forget had ended my life…

before it started anew. I fought not to shift beneath the weight of Prince Castiel’s gaze, my own once more fixed on the clock adorning the mantle, the sound of each passing tick magnified in the taut stillness.

Just one more minute, then I can finally escape .

The hour finally struck, and I nearly splattered my tea in my haste to set the cup down. After a quick curtsy, I hastened for the door as quickly as decorum allowed, but I hadn’t even made it halfway when his voice cut through the air. “Princess.”

I immediately stilled at the unspoken commend, biting back a frustrated curse.

With the mounting anxiety of the past week, it took me several seconds longer than usual to smooth my expression into the tight, practiced semblance of a polite smile as I turned.

“Is there something you need, Your Highness?”

He didn’t respond immediately. Though he remained composed, I detected something different in the pause that followed—this wasn’t his usual deliberation over words, but something closer to…hesitation, as if for once he scrambled to find any at all.

“You’ve been behaving unusually this week. Too often for me to dismiss it any longer. Has something happened?”

To an outside observer, it might have sounded like a show of concern, but I knew better. This wasn’t about my well-being, but about control—he had noticed something outside the expected parameters, and he wanted to know if it posed a threat that would need to be… corrected .

His tone may have remained casual, but his sharp gaze was assessing, slicing through me with calculated precision to peel back the layers of my carefully maintained mask. For all my effort to feign composure, there was only so much I could hide while sitting in the presence of my murderer.

I scrambled for an excuse that wouldn’t sound so hollow it might betray me, but I didn’t have the luxury of time to craft a flawless lie—not when hesitation was often interpreted as guilt when speaking to the monarchy of Thorndale.

I offered the least dangerous truth, forcing myself to meet his dark gaze. “I’ve been…uneasy. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

A flicker passed through his eyes, faint but unmistakable. He didn’t fully believe me. “Are you still experiencing nightmares?”

I gave a careful nod. “It’s lingered longer than I expected.” Being only a few doors down from my killer made it impossible not to relive the fate I’d found at the end of his blade in vivid, gory detail.

He traced the rim of his teacup with slow precision, studying me for a long moment. “Dreams are rarely about what they seem. Sometimes the only way to quiet them is to confront what they stem from.”

Coldness curled down my spine at the challenge laced through his tone. Was that a suggestion…or a warning?

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I fought to keep my voice steady, but it wavered beneath the steel of his unblinking gaze never leaving mine, as if he was trying to determine whether I truly would.

Prince Castiel took another sip of tea. “If there’s anything else troubling you, you might find clarity by retracing your steps to the beginning. Old halls have a way of stirring useful thoughts; sometimes answers lie in the forgotten corners we previously overlooked.”

His tone remained mild, but something about the phrasing snagged at my thoughts, too precise to be meaningless. I searched his expression but found only polished detachment.

I gave another tight smile—another lie, all I ever had to give him. “I’ll keep that in mind, Your Highness.”

He offered no further response, just a single, dismissive nod. I curtsied, my footsteps far more hurried than decorum allowed as I finally exited the reception room.

Try as I might to shake off his cryptic words, they lingered—harmless on the surface, but like all things in Thorndale, far too carefully measured to be accidental.

Return to the beginning, retrace your steps .

It could have been nothing more than a veiled warning, or even a test. But so far, Prince Castiel had been the wild card I still didn’t know how to play. If some thread from the first timeline had already unraveled and he was tugging at it now, I needed to follow where it led.

As reluctant as I was to admit, the prince’s advice was sound.

A week had passed with no progress. The palace had shifted around me, and with it, the course of my mission.

I couldn’t afford to waste another day trapped in stagnancy, staring at the same locked doors and silent walls…

even if I risked falling into another trap.

If there were answers waiting in the forgotten corners—ones I’d missed the first time—I had to find them…even if it meant taking such a calculated risk. I would walk the path again, not because I trusted him, but because I trusted myself to see what I hadn’t before.

And if it was a trap…then at least I’d know where we stood.

Later that night, once the palace had quieted and the corridors emptied of their usual patrols, I slipped from my chambers and returned to where it had begun, like a shadow revisiting the place of its own death.

My heart beat erratically as I crept through the dimly lit halls, each step a ghostly echo of those I had taken before. The hush of night blanketed the palace in silence, thick and watchful. I knew these turns—had walked them just before I died—but this time, I was not running; I was hunting .

In my first life, I had stumbled upon the hidden stairwell purely by accident, shortly before my demise.

Beneath a long-forgotten tapestry in the old servants’ wing, I’d discovered a narrow corridor leading to a crumbling spiral staircase that descended into the castle depths.

At the bottom a heavy door blocked my path, sealed with an enchantment I’d been desperate to unlock.

I hadn’t gotten the chance, for that was where he’d found me…and killed me.

Despite the dread coiled tight in my chest, I retraced that path now with trembling resolve, determined to understand what I had found and why it had cost me my life.

But fear of discovery wasn’t the only shadow haunting my steps—this was my first deliberate deviation from the events of the original timeline. In that life, it had taken me weeks longer to find the hidden passage; accessing it so soon would likely alter the path.

Though it was Prince Castiel’s words that had pushed me to act, I reminded myself it was likely too soon for him to have gathered the evidence that led him to that dungeon corridor in the first timeline.

And yet, I couldn’t entirely dismiss the possibility I had already crossed that unseen pivot point when he first began to doubt me, and his inaction thus far had been nothing more than the illusion of safety.

Regardless of whether his scrutiny and crafted suggestion was a carefully set trap, I would need to make this pilgrimage eventually. The sooner I faced it, the better chance I had of changing the outcome from its previous tragic end.

I ventured deeper into the darkness. To the untrained eye, it looked like any other corridor in the neglected wing of the palace, but I knew better—veiled secrets slumbered just beyond reach, waiting to be uncovered.

I drew a steadying breath and ventured into the corridor I hadn’t visited since I’d been sent back in time, each footfall cautious and measured, as if the proximity of the site of my death was enough to stir my survival instinct.