When Easton first suspected Lord Soren Vale wasn’t who he claimed to be, he didn’t act immediately. Instead, he quietly ordered his spies to investigate Soren’s origins.
What they found was… nothing.
No records of a "Lord Soren Vale" existed. No family ties, no lands, no lineage. It was as if he had appeared from thin air. That, more than anything, confirmed Easton’s suspicions.
But Easton needed more.
So, he laid a trap.
One night, when Soren had left the castle on what she believed was a routine mission, Easton’s men tracked her movements. She traveled farther than expected—toward the eastern border, near the kingdom of Everthorns.
There, his spies uncovered whispers of Princess Marlowe, the second-born daughter of the Everthorns royal family—a princess who had mysteriously vanished from court months earlier. Her disappearance was explained away as illness, but the timeline matched perfectly with the arrival of Lord Soren Vale.
When Easton confronted her, he said the name deliberately—a test:
“Who are you really, Princess Marlowe?”
The flicker of shock in her eyes, though brief, confirmed everything.
- 
King Easton was not a man who acted on impulse. He waited, planned, and struck only when he was certain. And now, he was certain.
The next evening, as Lord Soren Vale entered the council chamber, Easton dismissed the other advisors. The doors shut behind them with a heavy thud. Silence filled the room.
Marlowe felt it instantly. The air had changed.
She turned toward Easton, her usual mask of calm in place. “Your Majesty?”
Easton didn’t answer at first. He simply walked to the great table where maps of his kingdom lay spread out. Then, without looking at her, he spoke.
“Who are you really?”
A heartbeat of silence.
Marlowe did not move. “I don’t understand.”
Easton finally met her gaze. There was no anger in his eyes, no immediate call for guards—just sharp, unwavering certainty. He knew.
He stepped closer, his voice steady. “Don’t lie to me. I’ve seen the truth.”
Marlowe’s mind raced. He had proof? How? When?
Still, she did not falter. “I have served you loyally, Your Majesty—”
“Enough.” Easton’s voice was quiet, but the command in it was absolute. “You are no noble. No ‘Lord Soren Vale.’ You are a woman. A spy.”
Marlowe’s pulse thundered in her ears, but her expression did not waver. “And what will you do about it?”
That was the real question. He could arrest her. Expose her. Kill her.
But he hadn’t.
Easton studied her, searching her face. “You came to my court for a reason. What is it?”
Marlowe exhaled slowly. “I came for the truth.”
“And did you find it?”
A pause. Then, softly—“Yes.”
Easton’s jaw tightened. “Then you know I am not my father.”
Marlowe held his gaze. “No. You are not.”
Another silence. A moment stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words.
Then Easton sighed. “You know I cannot let you leave.”
Marlowe’s fingers twitched toward the dagger hidden beneath her coat. She had one chance.
- Escape -
Marlowe acted fast. She grabbed the candle from the table and flung it toward the curtains, sending flames racing up the fabric. As Easton instinctively turned to stop the fire, she lunged for the door.
Easton was faster. He caught her wrist, yanking her back. “Marlowe—”
With a twist, she freed herself and drove her knee into his stomach. He staggered, but he didn’t let go. They struggled, crashing against the table, knocking over maps and goblets.
Then, with a final desperate move, Marlowe pulled a hidden blade and slashed—not to kill, but to wound. The blade cut across Easton’s arm. He hissed in pain, his grip loosening just enough.
She ran.
Down the halls. Through the hidden passageways she had memorized. Guards shouted. The alarm rang through the castle.
She reached the stables, stealing a horse as arrows flew past her. One grazed her shoulder, but she did not stop. She rode into the night, the cold wind stinging her face.
Did she escape?
Yes.
But not without consequence.
King Easton now knew her name. He knew her face. And she had left something behind—something far more dangerous than any proof of her espionage.
A connection.
Because despite everything, despite being enemies, despite the lies and the deception—they had understood each other.
And neither of them could forget it.
— After the Escape: Two Minds, One War -
King Easton’s Reaction
The flames had been extinguished, the guards stood on high alert, but the damage was already done—she was gone.
Easton sat in his chambers, his wounded arm freshly bandaged, staring at the place where ' Princess Marlowe' had stood. The name echoed in his mind, a bitter taste on his tongue.
She had been right under his nose for months. A princess. A spy. A liar.
And yet…
He pressed his fingers to his temple. Why did he feel something other than fury?
She had not come to kill him. She had sought only the truth. And when she learned it, when she looked into his eyes and saw that he was not his father—she had hesitated.
If she had been an assassin, he would be dead. If she had been a true enemy, she would have sent word back to Everthorns long ago.
So why?
Why did she run instead of finishing her mission?
Easton’s hand clenched into a fist. This was not over.
“Find her,” he ordered his men. “Scour every border. Every path. I want her back.”
But the part he didn’t say aloud—the part he barely admitted to himself—was that he didn’t know if he wanted to punish her…
Or see her again.
- Marlowe’s Thoughts as She Fled -
The night air burned her lungs as she rode hard through the forest, her shoulder throbbing where an arrow had grazed her. She couldn’t stop, not yet. Not when Easton would be sending men after her.
Her mind was a whirlwind.
He knew her name.
He knew.
All her careful planning, her perfect disguise—gone in an instant. And yet, she wasn’t just shaken because of her failure.
It was because of him.
Easton had cornered her, but he had not struck the final blow.
She had seen it in his eyes—hesitation. Confusion. Something dangerously close to understanding.
That moment of silence between them before she escaped… why did it feel heavier than a thousand words?
Marlowe gritted her teeth. This was never supposed to happen.
She had come for the truth, and she had found it. But now, he was hunting her.
The real question was…
Would she let him catch her?
-Marlowe’s Return to Everthorns
Marlowe rode through the gates of Everthorns before dawn, her cloak heavy with dust, her body aching from the relentless journey. She had not planned to return so soon, but there was no choice—Easton had discovered her identity.
She was ushered straight into the grand hall, where King Alden of Everthorns sat upon his throne, his sharp gaze studying her.
“You return earlier than expected,” he said, his voice calm but expectant. “Tell me, what have you learned?”
Marlowe took a breath. “King Easton did not kill his father. King Aldric was a tyrant, a man who nearly destroyed his own kingdom. The people… they do not fear Easton. They follow him willingly.”
A flicker of interest passed through Alden’s eyes. “So the boy is not the monster some believe him to be.”
Marlowe hesitated. “No. He is not his father. But he is not weak, either.”
Alden leaned forward. “And does he suspect you?”
Marlowe clenched her jaw. “He knows who I am.”
Silence fell over the chamber.
The king’s expression did not change, but his fingers tapped against the armrest of his throne—a rare sign of unease. “Then we must prepare,” he murmured. “Easton will not let this go.”
Marlowe’s hands curled into fists at her sides. She knew her father would see this as a provocation, a reason to act. But something inside her twisted uncomfortably.
Would Easton come for revenge?
Or…
Would he come for something else?
- Everthorns Prepares for War -
King Alden wasted no time. The moment he learned that Easton had discovered Marlowe’s true identity, he summoned his war council.
“The boy king will come for her,” Alden declared, pacing before his advisors. “Whether for revenge, leverage, or negotiation, we cannot afford to be unprepared.”
Marlowe stood by his side, silent as the council erupted into debate. Some urged immediate action—a preemptive strike before Easton could move. Others cautioned patience, arguing that Easton was still stabilizing his rule and might not risk a full-scale war.
Marlowe listened but said nothing.
She had spent months in Easton’s court, watching him, learning him. He was not reckless. He did not act without reason. If he came, it would not be with blind fury—it would be with purpose.
And that was what frightened her the most.
- Defenses and Strategies -
Everthorns strengthened its borders.
Scouts were sent to monitor Easton’s army movements.
The capital walls were reinforced, in case of siege.
Messengers were dispatched to neighboring allies, securing support should war break out.
Marlowe was kept under strict watch—if Easton wanted her, her father would not let her go so easily.
But deep down, Marlowe knew something the council did not.
If Easton truly wanted to take Everthorns by force, he wouldn’t send an army.
He would come himself.
And he would find her.
- Easton’s Arrival in Everthorns -
Everthorns had prepared for war, but war did not come.
Instead, King Easton rode to the gates alone. No army. No threats. Just a king with a purpose.
His arrival sent shockwaves through the palace. The council, expecting blades and bloodshed, instead found themselves seated in the grand hall with a man who spoke calmly, directly.
He turned his sharp gaze to King Alden, then to Marlowe.
“Who knew my beloved uncle from my father's cousin would send his second-born daughter to discover the truth about my kingdom?” His voice was steady, but there was an edge beneath it. “The thing here is, why? Why, and what does my family business have to do with you?”
Silence.
Marlowe held his gaze, but she could feel the weight of his words.
The confrontation she had expected was not one of swords—but of truth.
Would her father reveal his true reasons? Would Marlowe herself be forced to answer?
And more importantly…
Would she even want to?
- King Alden’s Response -
King Alden sat back in his throne, his fingers tapping lightly against the armrest. He studied Easton with an expression that was neither welcoming nor hostile.
Finally, he exhaled slowly and said, “Because your father was a man of secrets. Dangerous secrets.”
Marlowe’s breath hitched. Her father had never shared his true reasons for sending her. Even she had believed it was just about ensuring Easton wasn’t a tyrant like his father. But now…
Easton, however, did not look surprised. He only tilted his head slightly, waiting.
King Alden continued. “King Aldric was not just a cruel ruler. He was a man who made others disappear when they became inconvenient. And some of those people were… important to Everthorns.”
The words hung in the air like a blade between them.
Easton’s eyes darkened. “And you think I had something to do with this?”
Alden gave a slow shake of his head. “No. But I wanted to know if you carried his shadow.”
A long silence stretched between them.
Then Easton let out a quiet laugh—cold, bitter. “So you sent your daughter to spy on me. To judge me. And now? What do you see?” He turned to Marlowe, his gaze unreadable.
Marlowe swallowed hard. The entire room was waiting for her answer.
What did she see?
The monster she had expected?
Or something else?
-
Marlowe’s lips parted slightly, but no words came. The weight of the room, the piercing gaze of Easton, the expectations of her father—it was too much.
So she said nothing.
She merely lowered her eyes, her silence speaking louder than any words could.
And that was when her mother entered the hall.
The Queen of Everthorns, regal and composed, swept in gracefully, her sharp gaze moving from her husband to her daughter—and then to Easton.
She saw what no one else did.
Marlowe’s silence wasn’t hesitation. It wasn’t fear.
It was something far more dangerous.
It was love.
The queen’s expression did not change, but inside, she sighed. This will be trouble.
For now, she kept quiet. She would not interfere. Not yet.
But when the time came, she would be ready.
- Marlowe’s Private Thoughts -
The moment court was dismissed, Marlowe slipped away, her heart pounding.
She had spent months in Easton’s court, watching him, studying him—waiting for the moment she could determine if he was a tyrant like his father.
But now, standing in her own home, faced with his words, his presence… she realized the truth.
She did not hate him.
She should have. He was the enemy, wasn’t he? The man she had deceived, the one who had caught her, the one who could have punished her but didn’t.
And that was the problem.
Easton was not cruel. He was sharp, calculating—but not without honor. When he looked at her in that hall, demanding to know what she saw, she had wanted to tell him.
She had wanted to tell him that she saw a man burdened by a past not his own.
That she saw someone who was not a monster, but someone she could—
Marlowe shut her eyes, inhaling sharply.
No.
She could not let herself think this way.
She was a spy. A princess of Everthorns. He was a king, and no matter his intentions, he was still the son of Aldric.
Her mother had looked at her today, her gaze knowing, understanding. That was the worst part.
Because it meant Marlowe wasn’t hiding her feelings as well as she thought.
And if her mother knew…
How much longer until Easton knew too?
- Easton’s Intentions -
Easton left the throne room, but his mind remained fixed on one person.
Marlowe.
She had not answered him. That silence had been louder than any words.
Easton was a man who understood people—who could read them, predict them. Yet, Marlowe had been an enigma from the start. She had played her role well, but not well enough to deceive him completely.
Now he understood why.
She had not been prepared for what she felt.
Neither had he.
He had come here with peace, not war. And now, instead of a political negotiation, he found himself standing at the edge of something far more dangerous.
He could leave. Walk away, let Everthorns deal with their own paranoia.
But that was not who he was.
Marlowe had come into his kingdom, walked through his halls, seen him for who he truly was. And yet, in that moment—when she should have confirmed her father’s suspicions—she had held back.
Why?
He had to know.
So instead of retreating to his chambers for the night, Easton made a decision.
He would find her.
And this time, she would not remain silent.