Maya woke slowly, the kind of waking that felt like surfacing through thick water.
Her lashes fluttered once… twice… then she inhaled sharply and sat up.
The dream clung to her.
Not images exactly—feelings. The sickening jolt of fear, the weight of movement she hadn't chosen, the certainty that something terrible had happened and could happen again. Her heart beat too fast, her palms faintly damp.
She pressed a hand to her chest, breathing until the room steadied.
The light had changed.
Golden dusk filtered through the tall windows, stretching long shadows across the floor. Candles had been lit while she slept, their flames steady and quiet.
Maya frowned.
"I already slept," she murmured to herself.
She remembered the carriage. Remembered leaning against Darcien. Remembered talking—rambling, really—until her thoughts blurred. She remembered nothing after that.
Yet here she was. In her room. Again.
Her gaze drifted to the bed, then to the door.
He brought me back, she realized.
The thought settled strangely in her chest.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat there for a moment, staring at the floor. Her mind replayed everything she hadn't said. Everything she could say.
The visions.
The flashes of a life that didn't feel like it belonged to Elowen—or Maya.
The way her body had moved on instinct, violent and certain, when someone had been about to strike Darcien.
Her stomach twisted.
Should I tell him?
The answer came just as quickly.
No.
She didn't understand it herself. Didn't know why those memories were surfacing now, or why they felt both foreign and intimate. And Darcien—sharp-eyed, guarded Darcien—was the last person she could afford to confuse further.
She exhaled slowly.
I'll keep it to myself. For now.
Maya stood and smoothed her clothes, noticing only then how tired her body felt—bone-deep exhaustion that didn't make sense. She'd slept twice already. How could she still feel this drained?
Unless…
Her fingers curled slightly.
Unless something inside her was waking up.
The thought sent a shiver down her spine.
She crossed the room and opened the door, peering into the corridor. It was quieter than before, servants moving with subdued purpose, the palace settling into its evening rhythm.
She hesitated only a second.
Then she stepped out.
If Darcien had brought her here without waking her…
If he'd noticed her fear and said nothing…
She needed to see him. Even if she didn't know what she would say.
Maya turned down the corridor and headed deeper into the palace, her steps quickening with resolve, unaware that this small decision—to seek him out again—was already pulling her further into something she no longer had control over.