The clinking of cutlery against fine china echoes softly through the dining room, blending with the gentle hum of the chandelier above us. I hadn't realized just how much I missed this; dinner with Cassian. Just the two of us. No staff hovering. No royal weight pressing down on every breath.
Then it hits me. A jolt, clean and sharp, cutting through the comfort.
I pause mid-bite, my fork suspended over the plate. My gaze drops for a second, then lifts slowly to Cassian. "Wait…"
He looks up, brow raised. "What is it?"
My heartbeat begins to race. "How could we have searched the birth record of a boy who was already swapped at birth?"
His expression falters. Confusion first, then realization creeping in around the edges.
"We should have searched for a girl," I say, sitting up straighter. "The boy wasn't registered under his birth mother. He was taken. Which means the woman ended up with a girl. Not a boy."
Cassian's fork clatters against his plate. His eyes are wide now. "And there was only one girl born that day," he says under his breath.
"Exactly," I whisper. "If the switch happened immediately after delivery, before registration, then the birth mother would've unknowingly registered the wrong baby."
"And if she'd been expecting a boy…" he says slowly, "she would've noticed."
I shake my head. "Not if she never saw the baby. If Irena Vale or one of the midwives acted quickly enough, she would have assumed the girl was hers."
Cassian leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. "So we've been chasing the wrong lead this whole time. It was never about the boy."
"It's the girl," I say, the pulse of truth ringing in my ears. "She holds the key."
He meets my eyes, jaw firming with resolve. "Then in the morning, we go back. We find the woman who delivered a girl under Irena Vale's care. Just one."
My chest tightens, cautiously hopeful. "This could lead us to your real family."
Cassian reaches across the table, his hand folding around mine. The silence that follows isn't heavy but it hums with something electric.
For the first time in a long time, the quiet feels like momentum.
It feels like we're close.
***
The moment we step back into the hospital, I feel the shift. No more polite resistance or skeptical frowns. The elderly administrator rises to meet us like we're old comrades in pursuit of the same truth.
Cassian explains quickly, again. "December 4th, 1995. This time, we're looking for a girl. Born under Irena Vale's care."
The man nods and moves with surprising urgency. Within minutes, a team assembles. Papers fly. Files are summoned.
And then a nurse raises her voice.
"Found it!"
We both lean forward, breath caught.
"There were three births under Irena Vale that day," she reads. "Two boys. One girl."
"The girl," Cassian says. "Let me see it."
She hands over the file. Cassian opens it with a steadiness I don't feel, and I lean beside him as my heart slams against my ribs.
Child's Name: Christie.
Mother's Name: Sarah.
Residential Address: Eden Crest Guest Manor, Matica.
My grip tightens on the desk. "Christie," I whisper. The name feels foreign and familiar at once, like a secret I've always known. "Could that be her? My twin?"
Cassian stares at the address, brows drawing together. "Eden Crest… That's not just any guest house. That place is for royals. Nobility. Only the top-tier emissaries ever lodge there."
I turn to him, hope blossoming like fire in my chest. "Then she might be… royalty?"
He nods, gaze distant. "Or close to it. If she gave birth there and listed it as her address, she wasn't just passing through."
We both look to the administrator. He confirms it with a firm nod. "The address still exists. You'll find it on the East Bluff."
As we step back into the sunlight, the silence between us feels different again. Not tense. Anticipatory.
Cassian's eyes stay fixed ahead, his thoughts miles deep. Mine spin around a single name.
Christie.
Does she look like me? Did she ever feel it too—that sense of something missing? Of belonging somewhere else?
We get into the car. Cassian tells the driver, "Eden Crest. Hurry."
As the city rolls past our windows, bathed in golden morning light, I whisper her name in my heart again.
Christie.
We're coming.
***
Eden Crest Guest Manor stands tucked between sculpted hedges and regal silver pines, discreet and stately. The gates open without question. They know Cassian on sight. Maybe they know me, too.
Inside, the manager greets us in a polished office of glass and mahogany. His eyes are sharp behind rimless glasses.
Cassian speaks first. "We're investigating a delicate matter. We need guest records from December 1995. A woman named Sarah."
The manager hesitates but doesn't flinch. "It's a long time ago, Your Grace. But Eden Crest keeps everything."
He disappears and returns with a thick leather-bound ledger. With practiced fingers, he flips until he lands on the right page.
"There was a Sarah," he says. "But her full registration was 'Queen Sarah.'"
Cassian and I exchange a look that crackles in the air.
Queen?
He leans in. "What kingdom?"
The manager gives a regretful tilt of his head. "Eden Crest guarantees discretion. We do not disclose affiliations."
I step forward and draw my credentials. "I understand. But this is urgent. I'm Celeste Weylin Lucien, head of the Royal Legal Council of Matica. I give you my word this stays confidential."
He studies the ID. His silence stretches—and then he nods once, decisively.
From a secure drawer, he pulls a sealed cream folder. "Her place of origin was listed as the Royal Palace of Aerithia."
Cassian reads it aloud like scripture. "Royal Palace… Aerithia."
The name strikes something deep in both of us.
Aerithia. The old, powerful, secretive kingdom on the continent's edge. Revered and feared. Untouched by scandal or exposure.
As we leave the manor, Cassian's steps slow. He clutches the document as if it's alive. His eyes shine with something I haven't seen in him in months; wonder.
"Could it be?" he murmurs. "Could I be… royal?"
I take his hand gently. "We'll find out. But we need to plan this. Carefully."
He turns to me, grounding himself in my presence.
"Then let's prepare," he says. "Because I need to know who I truly am."
And as we ride back toward the palace, the air around us seems to shift again—charged with destiny.
We're closer than ever.
To the truth.
To her.
To everything.