Chapter 72: Weight of insanity

Then she turned, crossed the room in near silence, and slipped out the way she had come. The door closed with a muted click, and the chamber fell silent once more.

She waited and counted to five. Then ten. Only when she was certain the maid’s footsteps had faded far down the corridor did she open her eyes.

The room looked unchanged as the fire in the hearth gave a low crackle and the moonlight traced pale lines across the floor. Her pulse, however, refused to slow when slowly, she pushed the blanket aside and swung her legs over the bed.

The floor was cold beneath her feet, and the chill grounded her in a way the warmth had not been. Lucrezia stood carefully, as if sudden movement might bring the distortion back and crossed the room toward the tall wardrobe near the far wall.

It was carved with climbing ivy and crowned with a narrow mirror. Anyone watching would think she meant to fetch a shawl.

Instead, she knelt, and her trembling fingers slipped beneath the lowest drawer, pressing against a loose panel hidden behind folded linens.

It shifted with a faint scrape. Lucrezia paused, listening to the silence if she could catch any movement.

Quickly now, she pulled the drawer open farther than necessary and began moving chemises, ribbons, and gloves aside. Her hands trembled badly enough that the fabrics slipped through her grasp, as silk and lace spilled over the edge and pooled at her knees while she searched.

“Where is it…” She whispered.

Her fingers brushed against a small tin tucked deep into the corner, and without thinking, she seized it.

Relief rushed through her so suddenly it left her lightheaded. Inside were the pills that appeared harmless to look at. It didn’t seem like anything extraordinary yet only she knew how necessary it was for her in a case as this.

Her hand shook as she pried the lid open. One tablet slipped against her fingertip and nearly fell but she caught it at the last second.

Her breath hitched. Just one, she thought. That was all it ever took.

Lucrezia placed it on her tongue and reached blindly for the glass of water the maid had left. The swallow felt too loud in her own ears as she closed her eyes and waited.

Let it work… please, let it work… she held onto that hope.

Gradually, the room seemed to settle, and the crackle of the hearth softened. The distant hum of the castle beyond her walls dulled to something ordinary. Lucrezia could feel her breathing that no longer sounded foreign, and the world returning to its proper distance.

She exhaled slowly. Thank goodness…

Lucrezia slid the tin back into its hiding place and shut the panel with care, pushing the drawer closed and hastily shoving the displaced clothing back into order.

For a moment, she remained kneeling on the cold marble floor. Despite her mind that was settled, her hands, however, were still trembling.

With a shaky sigh, she brought her knees over her chest and her hands in between, pressing them lightly as if she could anchor herself against the lingering tremor in her body. Her breathing had steadied, but her pulse still raced beneath her fingers.

The marble floor bit into her legs, and for the first time Lucrezia was keenly aware of the weight of her own vulnerability.

Suddenly, her mind flickered back to the trial without warning. The image of Vaeron stripped of his essence, bleeding and staggering under the assault of those four relentless challengers, and the opposition to his truths, struck her at once.

Her memory of that day sent a shiver through her even now. She wondered how he was… where he was… if he was… and she shut her eyes, allowing her breathing to control the fate of her heart beat.

Why would she care? But it wouldn’t mean anything if he was… gods, she couldn’t complete it. Her chest felt heavy and hollow in a way she’d never felt, and each seconds that passed pressed her with unending questions and burning curiosity.

Lucrezia didn’t know what terrified her the most, whether it was the knowledge of his presence or the absence of it?

And yet, despite the fear clawing at her, a resolve flickered faintly inside her. From all she had witnessed, Lucrezia knew she couldn’t let herself falter again. Not here. Not with what was coming.

That thought sent another chill down her spine. What was coming…

’It’s time,’

It lingered at the back of her mind like a bruise she could not stop pressing. Lucrezia drew in a slow breath, but it did little to calm the tightness winding through her ribs. The words did not feel like part of the dream anymore. They felt deliberate.

Time for what? The question circled her thoughts, refusing to settle. Nothing in her life had ever unfolded gently. Not her betrothal to the Lord of Dreadwyn. Not the journey to Blackvale. Not the abduction. Not the trial. Each event had arrived like a hand at her back, pushing her forward before she was ready.

And now this.

The dreams were there, but the heat… the heat has always been something after her abduction. Lucrezia couldn’t agree less that tonic helped, but if she succumbed to panic now… if she allowed herself to lose control like she had in the trial… what impression would the gods have of her? They saw everything, and the thought of them witnessing weakness, something that wasn’t the trait of her step-sister, in her made her skin crawl.

The thought of even a single person discovering her secret weighed heavier on her than the idea of the entire world knowing. A shaky sigh escaped her lips.

She wasn’t convinced yet. He possibly might’ve just had his suspicions, she thought, letting it settle the tremor in her chest.

Lucrezia knew she fainted, caught unprepared and overwhelmed by forces she had neither fully understood nor controlled. That memory tightened around her chest like a vise, and her stomach knotted anew.

Could they forgive that? Could she ever reclaim a semblance of composure once such a failure had been recorded in their gaze? Could she even stand in their midst, knowing fully well she had collapsed like a mortal that she was?

Unending questions rivaled her mind, and she could not silence them. They crowded her thoughts the way the voices had that day. What if they had seen everything?

The question snagged in her chest, stealing the rhythm from her breath.

The gods were said to be impartial. She had been raised on that belief that strength was rewarded and weakness was corrected. And her step-sister had never faltered. Never given the court cause to whisper, because of her coldness, and cruelty, just like her father.

Lucrezia pressed her forehead briefly against her knees.

The weight of it settled over her then, something that was far from the dream and even the trial, but the possibility that something inside her was unraveling ever since the day of her abduction.

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