Chapter 2 Away to my home

They didn't let me walk out the front door.

No, they cleared the whole damn street.

Sirens, flashing lights, tinted cars with bulletproof glass. I was shoved-gently but firmly-into the backseat of one, sandwiched between two men in suits who smelled like gunpowder and expensive cologne.

No one asked me anything. They didn't need to.

They already thought they knew who I was.

The woman who'd called me her baby sat in the front, twisting around every few seconds to look at me, like I'd vanish if she blinked. Her mascara was smudged. Her hands trembled every time she reached for mine.

I didn't know how to tell her she had the wrong boy.

So I said nothing.

Just stared out the window while the city flew by in flashes of gold and blue. Clean streets. Stone buildings. Banners fluttering from balconies. Somewhere out there, people were sleeping in beds with clean sheets and full stomachs.

And here I was.

A nobody wrapped in someone else's coat.

The convoy didn't stop-not for lights, not for people. Traffic parted like the sea for us. That alone told me everything I needed to know.

This wasn't just royalty.

This was power.

---

Arriving at the Palace

The palace sat like a sleeping beast at the top of a hill-gates taller than houses, guarded by soldiers in ceremonial armor that gleamed under the moonlight. Ivy curled around black iron, and the gold crest of the Valmora royal family glinted above the archway: a two-headed falcon crowned with fire.

I wanted to laugh. Or cry. Or maybe just disappear.

But the gates opened.

And we drove through.

The courtyard was massive-stone tiles arranged in perfect symmetry, water fountains carved with ancient lions, marble steps leading to tall pillars and glass-paneled doors. No dust. No cracks. Even the air smelled cleaner here. Sharper. Like money and secrets.

The moment the car stopped, the doors flew open.

More guards. More bows.

And a man with a voice like thunder announced, "His Royal Highness has returned!"

They weren't talking about me.

But I stepped out anyway.

The palace swallowed me whole-tall ceilings with gold-trimmed moldings, chandeliers big enough to crush a car, floors so polished I could see the ghost of my own confused face in them.

Velvet drapes. Candlelight. Tapestries that looked older than my entire bloodline. Everything was soft-every chair, every step, every look cast my way. Servants lined the halls, eyes lowered, but I felt them watching.

Judging.

Measuring.

Waiting to see if I remembered where I came from.

Spoiler alert: I didn't.

I didn't know the names of the rooms or the rules of the house. I didn't know which fork went where, or who to nod to, or how to walk like I owned the place instead of snuck in through the back door of fate.

But I didn't trip. I didn't flinch.

And when they asked if I needed anything...

I just said, "A bath. And maybe...some answers."

They gave me both.

Sort of.