Fated Eclipse: The Illegitimate Princess And Her Alpha Suitors

Chapter 291: The Shadows and the Secrets

Chapter 290: The Shadows and the Secrets

Bridget moved through the palace corridors like a ghost, her footsteps silent against the polished stone floors. The light filtered through the tall windows in pale golden streams, casting long shadows across her path. She kept to the edges, her body pressed close to the walls, her eyes scanning every corner.

She had been following Baron Frederick for nearly an hour.

The man moved with a nervous urgency that bordered on desperation, his head constantly swivelling, his hands twitching at his sides. His footsteps were uneven, sometimes quick, sometimes hesitant, as though he could not decide whether to flee or to hide.

He stopped suddenly.

Bridget pressed herself into a narrow alcove, holding her breath, her heart pounding against her ribs. She watched as he paused before a storeroom door, his hand hovering over the handle as though he were uncertain whether to proceed. His fingers trembled slightly, and he glanced over his shoulder twice before finally pushing the door open.

The corridor was empty.

This spot was dangerously close to Princess Lyria’s chambers. Too close. Bridget’s instincts screamed at her to be cautious.

She moved nearer, her steps silent, her body pressed against the wall beside the door. She placed her ear against the wood and listened.

There was someone else inside.

Her wolf senses did not pick up a scent, which could only mean one thing.

He had masked it.

And his voice, she noticed, had been deliberately altered.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Will you help me leave?" Baron Frederick asked in reply.

The other man was silent for a moment.

Then he spoke.

"Wait until the weekend."

Baron Frederick’s voice rose, cracking with desperation.

"I do not have until the weekend. I have to go now. Tonight. Please. I cannot remain here another day."

The other man’s voice was calm, almost soothing.

"What is making you so afraid?"

Baron Frederick swallowed audibly. Bridget could hear the tremor in his breathing.

"Things are not as they seem," he said. "I knew the royal family was brutal. I knew there were secrets within the palace. But I did not think it would be to this extent. It is serious. There is bloodshed. There is more—things that people do not know. I must leave. I cannot remain here another day."

The other man was quiet for a moment.

Then his voice changed. It dropped lower, deeper, taking on a quality that made Bridget’s hair stand on end. It was not threatening, exactly. But there was something about it, something that reminded her of a predator circling its prey—patient and deliberate.

"What do you know?" he asked.

Baron Frederick hesitated.

"I cannot say," he replied.

The other man’s voice grew softer, more coaxing.

"Do not be afraid," he said. "I will help you. But I need to know what you have seen. What you have heard. Tell me, and I will protect you. You have my word."

Baron Frederick was quiet for a long moment. Bridget could almost hear him weighing his options, deciding whether to trust this stranger.

Then he spoke.

"The priestess is a fraud," he said. "She does not hear the voice of the Goddess. The royal family tells her what to say. Everything. She is a puppet, nothing more."

The other man was silent.

"And the King," Baron Frederick continued, his voice dropping to barely a whisper, "plans to take his second daughter for himself."

Bridget’s blood ran cold. Her hand tightened against the wall, and she forced herself to breathe slowly, to remain calm.

The other man was quiet for a long moment.

"Is that all?" he asked. His voice was flat, almost dismissive. "That is what has made you so afraid?"

Baron Frederick swallowed audibly.

"That is not all," he said.

Bridget leaned closer, straining to hear.

Baron Frederick’s voice was barely audible.

"I saw the King burning bodies," he said. "They were mostly maids, but the Queen is aware of it. The King is a psychopath."

The other man sighed, a long, weary sound.

"I thought there might be something more," he muttered.

Baron Frederick’s voice cracked again.

"Will you help me?" he asked.

The other man sighed once more.

"You must wait until the weekend," he said. "I cannot help you before then."

Baron Frederick’s voice was desperate, pleading.

"I will not survive until the weekend. Please. Do not make me remain that long. I will die. I know I will."

The other man’s voice was calm, almost gentle.

"You will not die," he said. "I will make certain you survive. Besides, you have not seen anything more, have you?"

The question hung in the air.

Bridget’s instincts screamed at her. The question was probing, testing, as though the other man were trying to determine whether Baron Frederick had learned something he should not have.

She wondered whether the Baron was still withholding information, and so she listened.

But there was only silence.

Minutes passed, and still there was nothing. She knew they were both still inside, but why were they no longer speaking? What were they doing?

Suddenly, a hand clamped over her mouth.

She was dragged backwards into the shadows, her body pressed against the cold stone wall. She struggled, her heart pounding, her hands reaching for her knife—

And then the storeroom door opened.

Baron Frederick walked out, his face pale, his eyes darting nervously. Behind him, a figure emerged, cloaked from head to toe, his hood pulled low over his face. His shoes were soiled with dirt, as though he had been walking through the gardens or perhaps somewhere far less pleasant.

Bridget watched him go. She tried to memorise every detail—the way he moved, the set of his shoulders, everything.

Then the person holding her released her.

She whirled around, her knife pressed against the throat of the person who had grabbed her.

The man removed his hood, and she lowered her knife immediately, recognition flooding through her.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered.

He gestured towards the corridor where Baron Frederick had disappeared.

"The same thing you are doing," he said. "Gathering information."

Bridget frowned.

"I could have handled it myself," she said.

He shook his head.

"I doubt that," he replied. "You would have been caught if I had not intervened."

Bridget’s jaw tightened, but she did not argue.

"Do you know who that man was?" she asked. "The one with the Baron?"

He shook his head.

"I have been trailing him since I discovered him," he said. "But he never removes his hood. He wears a mask as well. I do not know his face, his eyes, or his hair. Only his build. But I do know that he is some sort of secret guard to the King. I have seen him before, near His Majesty’s chambers."

Bridget nodded slowly.

"You should not involve yourself in this matter concerning Baron Frederick," he said. "It is dangerous. More dangerous than you realise."

Bridget shook her head.

"My new master is the Princess," she said. "And she wants information. I answer to her now."

His expression darkened.

"It is dangerous even for the Princess," he said. "I suspect there is more to what Baron Frederick saw than he has told us. He is withholding something."

Bridget nodded.

"It seems we both suspect there is more, then."

She turned to leave, but paused.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "For helping me."

He pulled his hood back over his head.

"You are as stubborn as ever," he told her.

She allowed herself the smallest smile.

"I know," she replied.