Chapter 17

• The door stands before me, an innocent enough object on its own, but its presence weighs heavily on my mind. Behind it lies so much fear, a chasm I’ve never dared to cross alone. I’ve been standing here for what feels like an eternity, staring at the dark wood as if I could will myself to move beyond it.
• Peter had spent hours last night trying to calm me, assuring me that everything would be fine—that if the King wanted me dead, he would have already acted. The words were meant to comfort, but they did little to quell the churning storm inside me. My thoughts are full of doubt, swirling with worry. I can’t stop imagining the worst-case scenario, each one worse than the last.
• I tell myself I’ll be fine, that I’ll keep my head down, remain silent, and hope for the best. That’s what Peter says, and perhaps he’s right. But I can’t shake the feeling that I am playing a game I don’t fully understand, with stakes higher than I’ve ever known.