Chapter 4: The Question of Blood

Five years had a way of softening edges, of turning sharp grief into a dull, familiar ache. For Lila, the ache lived behind her ribs, a constant companion as she kneaded dough before dawn, the yeasty scent of her small bakery wrapping around her like a worn blanket. “Briar & Crumb” was her sanctuary, a modest shop on the corner of a cobbled street in the port city of Verance, far from the gilded cages of the capital.

The bell above the door chimed, and a small tornado of energy burst in. “Mama! Mama! Look what I found!”

Lila turned, flour dusting her apron, a genuine smile softening her face as she looked at her son. Leo. Her miracle. He was five now, all gangly limbs and boundless curiosity, with a shock of dark hair that was perpetually mussed and eyes the color of a summer storm—the very same eyes that haunted her dreams. Alexander’s eyes. Every time she looked at her son, she saw the ghost of the man she’d left behind.

“What is it, my little explorer?” she asked, crouching down as he skidded to a halt in front of her.

He opened his grubby fist to reveal a smooth, iridescent seashell, its surface catching the morning light. “It’s a dragon’s scale! I found it by the docks. The sailors said the sea dragons shed them when they’re sad.”

Lila’s heart squeezed. He was so imaginative, so full of light. “Well, then you must be a very brave dragon rider to have found one,” she said, kissing the top of his head. “Now, wash your hands. Your favorite cinnamon rolls are almost ready.”

He scampered off, his laughter like wind chimes. Lila watched him go, a familiar knot of fear tightening in her stomach. She was content here. Safe. She had built a life from nothing, a life of simple pleasures and honest work. But the fear was a shadow that never truly left. Every time a royal carriage rumbled through the streets, every time she saw a soldier in the King’s livery, her blood ran cold. She was always looking over her shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Later that afternoon, as she was frosting a cake for a nobleman’s daughter, Leo sat on a stool, swinging his legs. He was playing with a wooden knight she’d carved for him, making it duel an imaginary dragon.

“Mama?” he asked, his voice suddenly serious.

“Hmm?” she murmured, her focus on the delicate piping.

“Why don’t I have a papa?”

The piping bag slipped from her fingers, a smear of buttercream ruining the cake’s perfect surface. She turned slowly, her heart hammering against her ribs. Leo was looking at her with those uncanny, intelligent eyes, his small face a mask of innocent curiosity.

“Leo, sweetheart…” she began, her voice catching. She’d prepared for this moment a thousand times, but the words still felt like shards of glass in her throat.

“The other kids at the market, they have papas,” he continued, his brow furrowed. “Tommy’s papa carries him on his shoulders. And Bessie’s papa brings her apples. Where is my papa? Is he a sailor, off fighting sea dragons?”

Lila knelt before him, taking his small hands in hers. They were sticky from his cinnamon roll. “Your papa… he was a very special person, Leo. But he couldn’t be with us.”

“Why?”

The question was a spear. *Because he’s a prince, and I was a servant. Because his world would have crushed you, my love.* “Because it was complicated,” she whispered, the same answer she’d always given.

But Leo was too smart for that. “Did he not want me?”

The tears she’d been holding back for five years finally prickled at her eyes. She pulled him into a tight hug, burying her face in his sweet-smelling hair. “Oh, no, my darling. He never knew about you. He would have loved you so, so much.” The truth of that was a wound that never healed. Alexander would have loved Leo. He would have been a wonderful father. And that was precisely why she had to keep them apart.

“Can we find him?” Leo asked, pulling back, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “We could go on an adventure! I’m a good explorer.”

Lila’s blood turned to ice. “No, Leo. We can’t. It’s not possible.” Her voice was sharper than she intended, and she saw the hurt flash in his eyes. She softened her tone. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. But it’s just you and me. We’re a team, remember?”

Leo nodded slowly, but the light in his eyes had dimmed. He climbed off the stool and shuffled away, clutching his wooden knight. Lila watched him go, her heart shattering into a million pieces. She had given him a safe, happy life, but she had also given him a void. A question with no answer.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of guilt and dread. As she closed the shop that evening, a chill ran down her spine. She felt it before she saw it—a prickle of awareness that made her skin crawl. A man was standing across the street, half-hidden in the shadows of an alley. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in plain, dark clothes. But there was something about his posture, the way he held himself with military precision, that screamed of the palace guard.

He wasn't looking at the bakery. He was looking at her.

Lila fumbled with the lock, her hands trembling. She hurried inside, bolting the door, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She peeked through the curtain. The man was gone. Had she imagined him? Was it just a paranoid mother’s fear?

She turned to see Leo watching her from the top of the stairs, his eyes wide. “Mama? Who was that?”

“No one, sweetheart. Just a traveler,” she lied, her voice thin. But as she pulled him into her arms, her mind raced. Five years of peace. Was it finally over? Had the thread she’d severed so brutally, so decisively, finally been found?

Far away, in the royal palace, Crown Prince Alexander stared at a worn, faded sketch of a woman’s face, drawn on a piece of parchment he’d kept hidden for years. His private investigator stood before him, his expression grim. “We’ve found a lead, Your Highness. A woman matching the description. She runs a bakery in Verance. And she has a son. He’s five years old.”

The sketch crumpled in Alexander’s fist. Five years old. The math was devastatingly simple. His eyes, dark and fierce, lifted to meet the investigator’s. “Ready my carriage,” he commanded, his voice a low growl. “I’m going to Verance.”