Fated Eclipse: The Illegitimate Princess And Her Alpha Suitors

Chapter 139: The Window That Remembers

Lyria’s POV

Duke Thorncrest and Baron Redwick both turned to me at once, their attention sharpening as the deep resonance of the kingdom-wide broadcast continued to roll through the library like distant thunder.

Baron Redwick adjusted his spectacles.

”Are you certain, Your Highness?” he asked again, his tone precise, as though certainty itself required inspection.

I gave a quick nod.

”Yes,” I replied softly. ”I am.”

Duke Thorncrest let out a faint chuckle, the sound light even in the heavy stillness.

”Then I must confess,” he said, ”our briefing was rather... lacking.”

”Y-you must be mistaken,” I said quickly, shaking my head a little. ”Surely y-you were informed upon j-joining the competition.”

Baron Redwick answered first, calm as ever.

”We were told only that we had been selected to attend the competition upon reaching the appropriate age.”

Duke Thorncrest nodded once.

”That was the extent of it,” he added. ”Before we even arrived at the palace proper.”

My brows drew together slightly.

”T-that is all?” I asked.

Both of them confirmed it with a nod.

”I wouldn’t lie to someone as pretty as you, Your Highness,” Duke Thorncrest added with a faint smile.

Baron Redwick frowned immediately.

”I am not particularly impressed by such remarks,” he muttered.

”It was never meant for you to be impressed,” Duke Thorncrest replied lightly. ”Why would it be?”

Their exchange might have continued, but I exhaled softly, my thoughts already shifting.

”...Of course,” I murmured.

It was not surprising. Not truly. The royal household had always been selective in what information was given and to whom. Sometimes it felt less like omission and more like quiet expectation—that one should simply know what was required of them.

I lifted my gaze.

”M-my lords,” I said, slightly louder this time, and both of them turned toward me.

”Please come with me,” I continued.

Duke Thorncrest tilted his head.

”And where precisely are we going?” he asked.

”I-I know a place,” I said, hesitating only a little, ”where we can see the broadcast clearly. The scrying veil is visible from it.”

That seemed to catch their interest.

Baron Redwick gave a short nod.

”Lead on, then.”

Without further protest, they followed.

—

The deeper we moved into the library, the quieter everything became.

Not the soft, comforting quiet of reading halls, where silence felt chosen and shared—but something older. Something that had been left untouched for too long, as though even sound had stopped trying to linger here.

The shelves began to thin. The arrangement grew uneven. Books sat with spines slightly askew, their titles fading with age and neglect. Dust clung stubbornly to carved woodwork, and faint cobwebs trembled in corners as we passed, disturbed only by our movement.

Baron Redwick’s expression tightened.

”This section is poorly maintained,” he observed at once.

It is not maintained at all, I thought, but did not say. This part of the library had never been a priority. Anything beyond the commonly used sections rarely was.

Duke Thorncrest gave a low hum, glancing around without much displeasure.

”How very unlike a royal library,” he remarked.

We turned again.

And again.

The path was not difficult for me. I had walked it many times before, though not in recent years.

Still, my feet remembered.

Even if I did not wish them to.

This place had once been smaller in my memory. Colder, perhaps. Lonelier.

I had come here when I was a child. When I had learned how to move quietly enough that no one would question my presence. When silence was safer than speech, and being unseen was more valuable than being acknowledged.

My fingers tightened faintly against my skirt.

The memories came anyway.

The times I had hidden here after punishment. After mistakes I did not understand. After words I did not know how to respond to.

Sometimes I had come simply because I missed my mother too much and had nowhere else to place that feeling. Sometimes I had come because books, even unreadable ones, felt like they were listening when no one else did.

”The spot is just ahead,” I said quietly.

Baron Redwick’s gaze sharpened slightly.

”It is rather concealed,” he observed.

”I-it is,” I agreed softly.

Duke Thorncrest said nothing, but I could feel his attention shift as we turned the final corner.

And then it appeared.

A narrow, forgotten section of the library.

The shelves here leaned slightly, as though even they had grown tired over time. Books stood in uneven clusters, untouched for years. Dust lay thick across every surface, dulling even the faint light that reached them.

At the far end stood a tall window, partially shadowed by the angle of the wall.

I stepped forward.

”Please wait a moment,” I said.

They did.

I searched briefly for a cloth—something I knew had been left here long ago, though I could not remember when. My fingers found it after a moment of hesitation.

Then I began to clean.

Dust came away in soft strokes beneath my hands, revealing pale wood beneath layers of neglect. It was not difficult work, but it felt... familiar.

When the sill was clear enough, I reached for the latch.

It resisted at first, making me press a little firmer.

Then it gave way with a soft click.

The window opened inward with a faint creak.

Cold air slipped into the space immediately, brushing against my face and loosening something tight in my chest without permission.

Beyond the glass, the courtyard stretched wide beneath the palace sky.

The training grounds were visible below. A few guards stood in formation, though most of their attention was not on each other.

It was directed elsewhere.

Toward the scrying veil.

Even from here, I could see it.

A faint shimmer suspended in the air beyond the courtyard walls, like a curtain made of light and sound. It shifted subtly, as though responding to something unseen, carrying the kingdom’s voice through its surface.

”Yes,” I said, ”it’s v-visible from h-here.”

I turned to them, a smile on my face, and then paused when I noticed how still they were.

They both had frowns on their faces; Duke Thorncrest was without a smile.

The shift unsettled me.

My hands tightened slightly.

”Is... i-is something the m-matter?” I asked carefully.

Silence followed.

As though neither of them had decided how to respond.

Then Baron Redwick spoke, his voice lower than before.

”...How,” he asked slowly, ”did you come to find a place like this?”