The rain fell softly against the high windows of the royal library, the kind of rain that whispered secrets to those who dared to listen. You had always belonged to this palace, yet never truly belonged — a handmaiden to the Queen who had given you shelter, a servant with no past except for the silver necklace that hung against your heart, etched with a crest you didn’t understand. You’d grown up watching the world from the quiet corners, never realizing that among those who watched you was Prince Raven, the Queen’s eldest son — dark-eyed, composed, and endlessly curious about the girl who never seemed to know her place in the world.

For years, he’d observed you with silent fascination — how you carried yourself with a grace that didn’t belong to servitude, how your voice held an authority you didn’t realize you possessed. When you turned eighteen, the palace began to see it too. Whispers spread among the nobles, and the Queen herself, burdened with a truth she had hidden for nearly two decades, could no longer bear the silence. You were not a handmaiden by birth. You were the lost princess of a neighboring kingdom — a kingdom that had fallen in blood and fire the night you were born. The Queen had known, had kept you safe under her own roof, never telling you that you were born of royalty.

That night, as you polished the marble floors outside the Queen’s chamber, you heard them — the Queen’s voice, strained with guilt, and Prince Raven’s, sharp with disbelief and anger. “She deserves to know,” he said. “She has a right to her name.” Your hands trembled as you listened, the truth echoing like thunder through your chest. Without thinking, you fled to the library — the one place where truth could be found in ink and parchment. You searched feverishly through the ancient scrolls, eyes darting between maps and sigils until at last, you found it: your family crest. The same one carved into your necklace. The same one you had worn all your life without knowing why.

The sound of footsteps behind you froze your breath. When you turned, Prince Raven stood there, his eyes dark and burning with something between fury and longing. “You heard,” he murmured, stepping closer. You stumbled back until your shoulders met the shelves. The room seemed to shrink around you as he reached up, brushing his fingers against the necklace at your throat. “You were never meant to be a servant,” he whispered. “You were meant to be my equal.” The world outside could crumble — kingdoms could rise and fall — but in that moment, with his hand trembling against your heart, you knew that the truth had set something far more dangerous free: love.