The ladies of the court mocked Sophie when she touched the royal crystal… but upon seeing what she was hiding in her hands, the prince ordered every door of the palace to be sealed.
A tale of crown intrigue, broken loyalties, and a right of blood buried for twenty-four years.
CHAPTER 1. THE MAID WHO CHALLENGED THE THRONE
—Look at her too! What a disgrace!
The echo of mocking laughter spread beneath the gigantic crystal chandeliers of Valdemar Palace.
Sofia Herrera stared at the floor as a dozen young women dressed in brocade, fine lace and glitter mocked her humble gray uniform.
He was twenty-three years old, the skin on his hands was rough from daily work, and he wore shoes that he had already had to sew three times during that harsh winter.
He lacked lineage.
He lacked riches.
He didn’t even know what his father’s name had been.
Despite everything, there she was, standing right in front of the most enigmatic relic in the entire court.
On a white marble column rested a sculpture carved from pure crystal that imitated the shape of a human hand.
His middle finger was upright, while the others remained folded towards the center of his palm.
Over the centuries, that piece had been called the Hand of the Oath.
No one knew for sure who its author was anymore.
However, the myth was in the public domain.
The old story told that this sculpture guarded the mystery of an ancestral pact of the crown, and that only a person linked to its original guardians would be able to reveal its true purpose.
On that day, fifteen girls from the high nobility had received the invitation to place their fingers on it in the presentation ceremony before Prince Adrian.
Each of them longed to be chosen as his future consort.
Sofia, for her part, was only there to hand out the wine glasses.
The incident broke out just as one of the contestants, Countess Isabella de Valcárcel, finished her walk in front of the marble column.
Isabella sported a perfectly styled blonde mane, a delicate diamond tiara, and a champagne-colored dress whose value exceeded Sofia’s salary in a whole decade.
—It seems the relic doesn’t respond to just anyone—Isabella blurted out, flashing a haughty smile.
Her circle of friends accompanied the comment with laughter.
At that precise moment, someone accidentally bumped into Sofia as she was crossing the room carrying a tray.
The girl stumbled.
In a desperate attempt to prevent the glasses from crashing to the pavement, he stretched out his right arm.
The tips of her fingers touched the glass.
It turned out to be a fleeting encounter.
Barely a sigh.
However, Sofia experienced such a sharp icy current that it crept up her arm and lodged in her shoulder.
He pulled his fingers away immediately.
The silver tray shook.
One of the glasses crashed onto the tiles and shattered into a thousand pieces.
“How useless!” Isabella snapped.
Sofia immediately bent her knees to gather the broken fragments.
—Excuse me, miss.
—Do you want me to forgive you?
Isabella looked down at her with utter disdain.
—You just ruined a solemn act of the crown and you intend to fix it with a simple apology.
The rest of the aristocrats began to whisper among themselves.
Sofia noticed how the blush burned on her cheeks.
She wished the earth would swallow her up right then and there.
That’s when something unusual happened.
Hidden beneath the cuff of her dress, she noticed that the thin chain tied to her wrist suddenly tightened.
It was a silver link blackened by the passage of time.
Attached to it was a tiny object covered by a piece of fabric.
He had carried it with him since he was old enough to understand.
His mother had bequeathed it to him inside a small wooden chest, accompanied by an old portrait and an unfinished letter.
Sofia had never been able to figure out what its purpose was.
That same morning she had decided to tie it before leaving, driven by a feeling that even she couldn’t explain.
Perhaps she just wanted to not feel so alone.
Perhaps she was trying to keep the memory of her mother alive.
As he stood up again, the small bulge slipped out from under the edge of his sleeve.
Sofia quickly caught it in her palms.
The fabric wrapping gave way.
And it revealed a tiny key made of glass.
It barely reached five centimeters in length.
It had a triangular cutting point, a diaphanous body, and a carved head imitating a six-petaled corolla.
Sofia stared at her in astonishment.
Never in his entire life had he witnessed such a reaction in the object.
He had spent entire years asleep in a corner.
And at that moment it gave off a coldness greater than that of ice itself.
“What are you hiding in your hand?” Isabella demanded.
—It’s nothing, miss.
—Show it right now, then.
Sofia clenched her fist against her chest.
—It’s just a family heirloom from my mother.
Isabella stretched out her arm with the clear intention of taking it away by force.
However, a man’s deep voice cut through the air.
—Take your hands away from there.
An absolute silence fell over the great hall.
Prince Adrian had stood up, leaving his seat behind.
He was thirty years old, had a tall stature, black hair, and a steely gray gaze.
He wore a military jacket made of dark cloth embroidered with gold thread.
Until that second I had witnessed the entire parade with the weary expression of someone attending purely out of a sense of duty to the state.
But now he was moving forward with a firm step in the direction of Sofia.
Isabella’s expression instantly changed to a charming smile.
—Your Highness, this maid has just caused an unforgivable embarrassment.
Adrian completely ignored her.
His pupils were fixed on the young employee’s closed fists.
“Extend your hand,” he commanded.
Sofia slowly obeyed the order.
The small crystalline piece was exposed on her skin.
The heir stopped abruptly.
All the blood seemed to flee from her cheeks.
He remained completely silent for a couple of seconds.
Next, he looked around for his mother, Queen Elizabeth.
The sovereign had already risen from her royal seat.
He gave the impression of having encountered a ghost.
“Mother,” Adrian said softly, ” come closer.”
The monarch descended the steps of the platform one by one.
Upon noticing the transparent object, he placed his fingers on his heart.
—Good heavens.
Isabella sought complicity in the eyes of her companions.
None of those present could understand what was happening.
Adrian turned his face towards the commander of the royal escort.
—Block each of the entrances.
The officer opened his eyes in bewilderment.
—Send it, Your Highness?
—Each door of the enclosure.
—But the families are invited…
—Not a soul leaves this palace without my express authorization.
The monumental gold-plated leaves began to come together heavily.
The metallic click of the pins made the walls of the room vibrate.
The ladies of the court suddenly lost their smiles.
A chilling fear settled in Sofia’s chest.
—I swear to you, Your Highness, I haven’t stolen anything.
Adrian fixed his eyes on her.
The severity of his expression had vanished.
Instead, a far more disturbing shadow had appeared.
—Where did you get this piece?
—My mother left it to me.
—What was his name?
Sofia swallowed with difficulty.
—Her name was Elena Herrera.
A muffled groan escaped from Queen Elizabeth’s lips.
The prince turned his head towards the sovereign.
—Do you know who it is?
Isabel nodded heavily.
—Twenty-four years ago, a young woman by that name served under this roof.
An involuntary tremor shook Sofia’s shoulders.
—My mother never told me that I had been suitable for the crown.
The monarch lowered her eyelids in sorrow.
—There were more than enough reasons for me to keep that secret.
With utmost care, Adrian lifted the key from the young woman’s palm.
She held it up to the light, searching for the glow of one of the hanging lamps.
At the very heart of the piece, some tiny characters could be seen.
They had not been drawn with a pen.
The signs lay carved into the very heart of the crystal.
TRUTH UNDER THE CROWN.
The truth beneath the crown.
Adrian held his mother’s gaze.
—It corresponds to the lock of the Chamber of Names.
The commander of the guard made the sign of the cross on his chest.
Isabella frowned.
—What is the Chamber of Names?
The queen fixed her gaze on the young aristocrat.
—I strongly suggest you keep your mouth shut, Countess.
However, Isabella carried the blood of Duke Ramiro de Valcárcel, one of the most influential figures in the entire territory.
She had never been taught to accept reprimands.
“I demand that my father be present for this,” he exclaimed loudly.
That simple mention caused Adrián to immediately raise his head.
—In what part of the hall is the duke?
One of the sentries scanned the crowd.
—You were in this very room just a moment ago, Your Highness.
—Find him right now.
The commander left the compound by crossing a secondary entrance.
Sofia remained rooted to the spot, right at the foot of the marble column.
He found it impossible to comprehend that such a tiny piece of glass could have unleashed such a storm.
The queen took a couple of steps in his direction.
—Did your mother ever tell you which lock opened this room?
-Never.
—Did he leave anything written for you?
Sofia hesitated for a moment.
—Just one card.
—What did it say on those lines?
The girl recalled that phrase she had repeated endlessly throughout her life.
—He warned me to always distrust anyone who came with the promise of restoring my true surname.
The queen took a step back, livid.
The gesture did not go unnoticed by Adrián.
—I demand an explanation right now, mother.
Isabel took a few seconds to speak.
He directed his pupils towards the sculpted hand on the column.
Then, she placed them back on Sofia’s face.
—Twenty-four years ago, an entire enclosure was erased from all the court’s architectural maps.
Sofia furrowed her brows in confusion.
—Are you talking about a hidden room?
—I’m talking about a vault where documents were kept that could completely alter the historical course of our dynasty.
—And was my mother the one who kept the key to that place?
—Everything points to yes.
—But for what purpose?
The queen sealed her lips.
Adrian’s patience reached its limit.
—Speak now, mother.
Isabel raised her face to her son, her eyes brimming with tears.
—Because Elena was never an ordinary maid.
Before he could add another syllable, the commander burst back, breathless.
—Your Highness, there is no trace of Duke Ramiro.
Adrian’s features turned to stone.
—What do you mean by there’s no trace?
—His horse-drawn carriage is still parked in the royal stables, but the duke has vanished.
Between her teeth, the queen let out a murmur that Sofia’s ears failed to pick up.
The heir stood in front of her.
—Repeat what you just murmured.
Isabel’s voice broke with tremor.
—I said that Ramiro had been dreading the arrival of this moment for decades.
Sofia looked down at the piece of glass.
For the first time, he had the sensation that that tiny object had the weight of lead between his fingers.
It was at that precise moment when, from the other end of the great hall, a strange voice resounded.
—And he wasn’t the only one awaiting the arrival of this date.
Every head in the room turned toward the source of the sound.
Standing beneath the main lintel was the silhouette of an elderly man, wrapped in the folds of a dark cloak.
He leaned on an ebony wooden cane and sported an old cut that ran across his left cheekbone.
Queen Elizabeth seemed to turn into a statue when she saw him.
—Leopoldo.
Adrian stared incredulously at the newcomer.
—It can’t be true.
The old man curled his lips ironically.
—Faking one’s own burial remains the most effective method for disappearing off the map.
Sofia was completely lost.
However, as soon as Leopoldo’s pupils touched the glass she was holding, his mocking expression vanished abruptly.
—So, in the end Elena chose to send her own blood.
The queen took a determined step forward.
—Your mere presence in this place is an affront.
Leopold ignored the queen.
—Tell me, young lady, do you even have the slightest idea who the woman who gave you life really was?
Sofia shook her head silently in denial.
The man with the scar closed the distance without haste.
—In that case, it would be advisable for one of those present to explain to you why the crown ordered your birth certificate to be torn out of every official book.
A deathly silence fell over the crowd.
Adrian placed his palm on the golden pommel of his ceremonial saber.
—If he utters one more syllable, I will order him to be locked in the dungeons.
Leopoldo let out a dry, loud laugh.
—Send me to jail?
He fixed the heir with a look full of pity and contempt.
—Boy, if you knew what the first name at the top of the book in that hidden vault was, I assure you that you would never again in your life place your body on that throne.
Sofia felt as if the marble floor was opening up beneath her shoes.
And beside her, Queen Elizabeth broke down in silent tears.
CHAPTER 2. THE VAULT ERASED FROM HISTORY
Prince Adrian’s first order was to isolate all the attending nobles in an adjoining wing.
The second measure was to put Leopoldo under custody.
The third instruction was to lock the general archive of the crown, barring entry to any individual who was not personally escorted by him.
However, at the moment the soldiers moved forward to immobilize the old man, Leopold raised his arms in a sign of peace.
—I didn’t cross those doors with the intention of escaping.
His gray eyes fixed once more on Sofia’s figure.
—My only purpose here is to prevent this girl from stumbling over the same stone that destroyed her mother.
Adrian stood in front of him.
—Which stone are you referring to?
A sour smile curved Leopoldo’s mouth.
—The naive belief that bringing the truth to light always brings freedom.
Queen Elizabeth abruptly cut off the dialogue.
—Get him out of my sight right now.
A pair of sentries escorted him to an adjacent building.
The man with the cane walked on without offering any resistance.
Just before crossing the threshold, he turned his neck to look at Sofia.
—Demand that His Majesty tell you about what happened in the early hours of November 17th.
Isabel squeezed her eyelids shut.
For Sofia it was clear that that day on the calendar held a fundamental key.
Later it would come to light that that date marked the lost trail of her mother.
And it also coincided with the evening in which the farce of a death had been staged.
Adrian guided Sofia and the sovereign into the private bibliographic office of the royal family.
It was an imposing hall, flanked to the ceiling by bookshelves carved from aged walnut.
The large windows offered a view towards the inner courtyards of the complex.
Occupying the middle of the room was a desk upholstered with geographical maps from another era.
Sofia had never set foot in such a place.
Throughout his time working at Valdemar, his world had been limited to the stoves, the back corridors, and the humble rooms intended for servants.
Instead, he now occupied a seat opposite the heir to the throne.
And placed on the wooden desk, right halfway between the two, shone the key inherited from his mother.
“I need you to think back and tell me any details you remember about Elena Herrera,” Adrián asked.
Sofia took a long breath.
—I remember his hands very well.
A look of surprise crossed the prince’s face.
—Do you remember his hands?
—They always gave off a clean aroma of handmade soap and lavender flowers.
She lowered her pupils towards the piece of glass.
—Whenever nightmares frightened me as a child, she would run her fingers through my hair and repeat to me that there are mysteries in life that only unlock the day a person manages to overcome fear.
Adrian remained silent for a few moments.
—In what year did he die?
Sofia stared down at her lap.
—According to what my aunt Clara told me, she died when I was only six years old.
—Did you see her body?
-Never.
—Were you present when he was buried?
-Neither.
—Do you at least know the cemetery where his remains rest?
Sofia slowly moved her head from side to side.
It had never occurred to her to question the lack of a gravestone to which to bring flowers.
At that time, he was nothing more than a child.
And at that age, one takes for granted the versions that come from the mouths of the elders.
Only at this moment did that emptiness take on the hue of a deliberate deception.
Queen Elizabeth turned her face towards the windows.
The gesture did not escape Adrian’s scrutiny.
—Your turn, mother.
With tired steps, Isabel took a seat opposite the couple.
—Elena crossed the walls of this palace while still a very young girl.
The phrases came out of his throat very slowly.
—He possessed a brilliant mind, knew how to keep silent, and enjoyed a prodigious memory.
—What kind of work did you do in here? —Sofia wanted to know.
—In her first stage she was assigned to the care of my personal quarters.
The monarch’s fingers nervously fidgeted with a ruby ring.
—Some time later he went on to collaborate directly with those in charge of the royal archive.
Adrian frowned sternly.
—In thirty years I never heard his name from your lips.
—Your own father gave the express order never to mention her name again.
—It has been six winters since my father lay underground.
—Despite this, maintaining that pact of silence was essential.
The heir sat up abruptly, pushing his chair back.
—My tolerance for half-truths is over.
Isabel raised her eyes to him.
—The man who occupied the throne before you was far from being the impeccable figure you remember.
Adrian froze in place.
Sofia witnessed a veil being torn from the prince’s gaze.
Up until that precise moment, the young soldier had managed to keep his temper under control.
But faced with that confession, he was reduced to a mere offspring about to realize that his entire existence was built on a foundation of lies.
The queen began her story.
Two and a half decades ago, the fate of Valdemar was in the hands of King Alfonso, closely supported by his younger brother, Infante Fernando.
The firstborn son stood out for his iron will, his thirst for power, and the devotion he inspired among the military ranks.
The younger one, on the other hand, had won the hearts of ordinary people.
Fernando had turned his back on any ambition for command in order to focus his efforts on building schools, sanatoriums and assisting the most forgotten regions of the territory.
It was precisely during a day of solidarity work at a hospice that his path crossed with that of Elena Herrera.
The young woman collaborated there, teaching the first letters to the offspring of the day laborers.
The Infante Fernando was hopelessly captivated by her.
And Elena, defying any sense of caution, reciprocated the love of that member of the royal family.
They managed to keep their relationship out of the public eye for almost two years.
Everything changed the day Elena discovered she was carrying a life in her womb.
Sofia noticed her pulse racing until it was pounding in her ears.
—Are you trying to tell me that my biological father was Prince Ferdinand?
Isabel’s delay before answering was eloquent in itself.
—This is a hypothesis that we never had the legal means to certify.
—However, you were aware of everything.
—I was aware of the deep love that Fernando had for your mother.
—And did you know that you were going to give birth to a girl?
The queen lowered her eyelids in pain.
—I was aware of it, yes.
Sofia jumped to her feet.
—By what right did he then allow me to grow up thinking that I had come into the world without a father?
Isabel was unable to formulate any defense.
A wave of fury, the likes of which she had never felt before, burned within the girl.
She had had to swallow scorn throughout her youth for bearing the stigma of being the illegitimate daughter of a single mother.
He had worked himself to the bone since his earliest childhood.
She had been raised to bow her head to ladies and gentlemen who looked at her as a being of inferior status.
And suddenly it came to light that the same people who condoned his misery were keeping the secret of his birthplace.
“What became of my uncle Fernando?” Adrian interjected.
The monarch turned her face towards the prince.
—His trail was lost while he was making a crossing through the mountain range.
—He lost his life on that trip.
—That was the story that was written for the people.
Adrian closed his hands until his knuckles turned white.
—What are you implying with that?
Tears finally overflowed Isabel’s cheeks.
—I’m suggesting that his mortal remains never appeared.
A sepulchral stillness took hold of the office.
Sofia had the feeling that oxygen was scarce inside the room.
—Is there a possibility, then, that my father is still alive somewhere?
The sovereign shook her head in sorrow.
—It would be cruel of me to nurture in you an illusion that probably lacks foundation.
Adrian turned around and headed towards the central office.
—It is imperative that we enter that hidden chamber today.
His mother stared at him with panic etched in her eyes.
—You have no idea of the ghosts we can unearth in there.
—That’s exactly why we need to open it.
The prince picked up the crystal key from the desk.
—Guide us to the entrance.
Isabel fixed her gaze on the closed doors of the library.
For a brief moment he gave the impression of weighing up the alternative of weaving a new deception.
After a sigh, he got up from his seat.
—Follow my steps.
He marched ahead of them, going into a narrow passage that in past centuries had served for the discreet passage of servants.
They descended two flights of steep steps and crossed a tunnel devoid of any skylight.
The route ended in front of a gate forged from iron eaten away by rust.
Isabel unhooked an antique key that hung from her royal sash.
The internal mechanism gave way with a dull click.
On the other side opened a round-shaped room.
Right on the axis of the vault stood a complex old bronze gear whose arms rose towards the ceiling, connecting directly to the marble base of the main hall.
Sofia immediately recognized the silhouette of that device.
It was the exact mold, but upside down, of the famous Hand of the Oath.
“There was never any miracle in that crystal statue,” the young woman whispered.
Adrian reviewed the cogwheels with a critical eye.
—It is nothing more than the visible end of a mechanical opening system.
The queen confirmed the deduction with a gesture.
—The entire debutante ritual was a pantomime set up to disguise its true purpose.
Century after century, the most exalted lineages had nurtured the fable of a relic capable of vibrating in the presence of the true royal lineage.
However, cut glass remained indifferent to noble titles.
All that dormant machinery only came to life the instant the piece carved with millimeter precision entered the eye of the hidden keyhole.
Sofia gazed at the amulet that had silently accompanied her since childhood.
—You mean that my mother was the keeper of the master key.
—I kept one of the two that exist—Isabel corrected in a low voice.
Adrian immediately raised his face.
—Who has the second piece?
The monarch kept her mouth sealed.
And for Sofia it was clear that they had just stumbled upon a new link in that chain of falsehoods.
Before they could demand an answer from him, the echo of hurried boots resounded through the tunnel behind them.
The silhouette of the guard commander was outlined in the entrance of the circular room.
—Your Highness, a serious setback has arisen.
Adrian spun around on his heels.
—Speak clearly, captain.
—My men have just located Duke Ramiro.
—Where was he hiding?
—He wasn’t hiding; he was inside his own quarters.
The officer swallowed with a grim expression.
—He lies lifeless on the floor.
The sovereign stifled a scream, bringing her fingers to her lips.
An icy chill ran down Sofia’s spine.
Adrian issued the immediate order to increase surveillance at every entrance to the building.
He then turned towards the bronze pillar.
—Time is against us; we have to open this now.
With a steady hand, Sofia fitted the triangular end into the metal slot.
The piece went in without the slightest looseness.
She turned her wrist with utmost delicacy.
A first metallic click echoed in the bowels of the load-bearing wall.
A second sharp blow immediately followed.
And after him, a third one.
The heavy bronze wheels began to rotate on their axles.
An entire block of masonry slowly shifted to the left side.
The resulting gap revealed an extremely narrow corridor.
From that dark mouth spouted a rancid mouthful of accumulated earth, rotten boards, and centuries of confinement.
Adrian took an oil lamp down from the wall.
—She always walks behind me.
Sofia categorically denied it.
—If my mother kept this crystal for so many years, it was so that I could reach the bottom.
The heir held her gaze for a second.
—We don’t know what kind of traps or threats await us in there.
—I have spent twenty-three years walking blindly with respect to my own origin.
A slight tremor crept into his words.
—I assure you that I am not going to back down at this point.
Adrian chose not to refute his argument.
Cross the stone threshold together.
The hidden enclosure was much larger than what they had calculated from the outside.
The space housed wrought iron shelves, solid wood chests, and a stately desk hidden under a white canvas.
Oil paintings from bygone eras hung from the stone cladding.
On the back wall stood a sturdy oak gate that bore the carved emblem of a six-petaled flower.
Exactly the same design that adorned the head of his key.
Sofia headed towards one of the open trunks.
His hands stumbled over entire bundles of parchments and official documents.
Complete lists with the surnames of the high aristocracy.
Original baptismal certificates.
Court marriage contracts.
Letters of a strictly confidential nature.
However, a good number of those sheets bore transverse marks drawn with sealing wax and crimson ink.
MODIFIED SEAT.
SUPPRESSED SUCCESSOR.
TRANSFERRED ASSETS.
Adrian randomly picked up one of the files.
Astonishment suddenly distorted his features.
—This goes beyond any imaginable limit.
Sofia peeked over the prince’s arm.
The documents certified how extensive lands and small palaces that had belonged to lineages fallen into disgrace passed, one after another, to increase the personal patrimony of Duke Ramiro.
The adulterations were obvious.
Signatures copied with someone else’s hand.
Seals with the crown’s coat of arms stamped outside the bounds of the law.
Queen Elizabeth’s breathing became rapid and shallow.
—Deep down in my soul I always harbored the suspicion that someone was manipulating the kingdom’s books.
Adrian fixed his eyes on her like daggers.
—And you never lifted a finger to get to the bottom of the matter?
—Every time I asked a question, your father would cut me off, claiming they were state secrets.
—And was that enough of an excuse for you to look the other way?
Isabel kept a guilty silence.
At that moment, Sofia’s fingers came across a file tied with a light blue silk ribbon.
On the cardboard cover was a name written in clear calligraphy:
ELENA HERRERA.
An uncontrollable tremor took hold of the young woman’s hands.
She untied the ribbon knot.
The interior contained handwritten letters.
Sepia portraits.
And an official marriage certificate.
Sofia ran her fingers along the lines of the sheet a couple of times.
It took a third reading to assimilate the content.
The identity of the contracting parties left no room for doubt.
FERNANDO DE VALDEMAR.
ELENA HERRERA.
The marriage had been arranged on February 12th, exactly two decades and four years ago.
Sofia noticed that her knees were wobbly, almost causing her to fall.
—They were married before the law.
Adrian took the parchment from the girl’s hands.
He checked the relief of the official seal.
He then checked the signature of the minister in charge of the registry.
There was no doubt about its legitimacy.
Queen Elizabeth slumped helplessly onto the edge of a rickety armchair.
—It was Elena herself who begged me to come as an eyewitness.
Sofia raised her eyes to the sovereign.
—Do you mean you witnessed the wedding?
Isabel nodded slightly.
—Ferdinand’s firm intention was to make his marriage known to the entire kingdom.
—What prevented him then?
—The fact that the news reached a third party ahead of time.
Adrian fixed his gaze on his mother.
—Are we talking about my father?
The monarch did not need to pronounce a single syllable.
His silence confirmed everything.
Sofia continued examining the rest of the papers contained in the file.
He brought to light a document written in Fernando’s own handwriting.
It was headed with the name of his brother, the monarch Alfonso.
Through those lines, the prince formally recorded his irrevocable renunciation of any title or prerogative that could overshadow the reign of his older brother.
His only request was to obtain royal approval to start a family with Elena and legally give his surname to the child on the way.
The reply dispatch signed by the sovereign was dated just seventy-two hours later.
It was limited to a single, blunt line.
THE CROWN WILL NEVER VALIDATE THIS BOND.
At the bottom of the sheet shone the monarch’s official sealing wax.
Two burning tears of pure indignation rolled down Sofia’s cheeks.
—My father didn’t care about occupying the throne.
Adrian did not take his eyes off the following pages.
—However, in the palace, the idea that the fruit of that womb could one day claim succession rights was terrifying.
The queen squeezed her eyelids shut in sorrow.
—It all comes down to the clauses of the old dynastic treaty.
Adrian frowned.
—Which treaty are you talking about?
Isabel proceeded to relate how, generations ago, the sovereigns had signed a secret agreement in order to stop bloodshed between two rival lines of the same reigning house.
According to the provisions of said document, access to the crown was not subject exclusively to the order of primogeniture.
A specific article linked to nuptial unions that had been directly endorsed by the guardians of the master book carried significant weight.
Fernando had signed his marriage certificate in the presence of said custodians.
And for legal purposes, that sacred bond had not been annulled in any way.
Adrian looked up to look at Sofia.
For the first time since the day had begun, he realized that his own title as future monarch hung by a thread.
Sofia, however, was completely indifferent to the question of the royal scepter.
His entire mind was focused on the whereabouts of the woman who gave him life.
—Where is my mother right now?
Isabel bowed her head to the ground.
—I have no idea.
—Is he still alive at least?
With extreme slowness, the sovereign raised her eyes to the girl.
—I was still breathing half a year ago.
Sofia froze in place.
—What did he just say?
Isabel activated the spring of a small drawer concealed in the side of the table.
From inside, he pulled out a cover of paper yellowed at the edges.
—This document came into my hands clandestinely last spring.
Sofia instantly recognized the stroke of that pen.
It matched, feature for feature, the handwriting of the unfinished letter she treasured in her wooden chest.
He tore the edge of the envelope with fingers that wouldn’t stop trembling.
Isabel, my pursuers have managed to find my whereabouts again.
Ramiro is aware that my daughter serves within the palace walls.
Do everything in your power to prevent him from approaching the sculpture of the hand.
The moment the key is revealed, they will understand that the original book remains intact in our possession.
And if the day comes when Sofia inquires about my fate, let her know that not a single minute has passed without me looking for a way to return to her side.
The final line showed signs of having been written in haste.
Do not trust Leopoldo under any circumstances.
Sofia lifted her face from the paper.
—My mother is not dead!
The monarch found herself unable to meet his gaze directly.
—Right now, I wouldn’t vouch for it.
—But you yourself confirm that six months ago you were still in this world.
-That’s how it is.
Sofia clutched the yellowed paper to her heart.
She had spent her youth mourning a mother she believed to be buried.
And suddenly the certainty opened up before her that, in some hidden corner, that woman had been waiting for the moment of reuniting.
Meanwhile, Adrian ran his fingers along the edge of the large desk.
Her fingertips touched the eye of a second keyhole.
It had the exact outline of a six-petaled corolla.
—Bring the key here.
Sofia shortened the distance to the piece of furniture.
However, in the split second before the glass touched the metal, the sharp crack of a gunshot tore through the silence.
The glass of the lantern shattered into pieces.
The vault was plunged into almost total darkness.
One of the guards protecting the entrance collapsed heavily against the flagstones.
With a protective shove, Adrián threw Sofía behind the parapet of the solid desk.
—Keep your head down!
A second projectile lodged itself against the stonework of the wall.
A shriek of terror erupted from the queen’s throat.
Emerging from the mouth of the narrow tunnel was the silhouette of an individual with his face covered by a hood.
In a swift movement, Adrian drew his steel from its sheath.
—Show your face right now!
The intruder took a couple of steps back.
Then, he blended into the blackness of the underground corridor.
The prince took off running in pursuit.
Sofia made a gesture as if to follow in Adrian’s footsteps.
However, the sovereign’s fingers closed like pincers around her forearm.
—Don’t move from here.
“If we don’t help him, the attacker will manage to escape!”
Isabel, however, kept her eyes fixed on the stone tiles.
A small object had slipped out of the shooter’s clothes during his escape.
It was a metal locket.
Sofia bent her knees in the dim light.
He lifted it from the ground.
Its design was a perfect replica, down to the last millimeter, of the one that had belonged to his family.
When the hinge was popped open, a miniature portrait was revealed.
The image showed a young girl cradling a baby of a few months old in her arms.
Upon turning the piece over, he read a single name engraved in the metal.
SOFIA.
The young woman felt trapped in her lungs.
And at that very moment, a broken murmur caressed the back of his neck from behind.
—My dear girl.
Sofia spun around on her heels as if in slow motion.
Silhouetted beneath the lintel of the oak gate at the back was a woman who was around fifty years old.
Her dark hair already displayed abundant silver strands.
Her face reflected the wear and tear of the years and showed a fine white mark next to the arch of her eyebrow.
Despite everything, those pupils still held intact the light that Sofia treasured in her childhood memories.
-Mother…?
Elena Herrera burst into inconsolable tears.
—Have mercy and forgive me, daughter.
Sofia covered the distance that separated them by running.
She hung on to his neck with all the strength of her arms.
For a few moments, the palace walls ceased to exist.
The intrigues vanished.
Lineages lost all value.
All that remained was the reunion of a daughter with the woman who had brought her into the world.
However, Elena’s expression was far from reflecting tranquility.
Her pupils kept drifting towards the dark mouth of the entrance tunnel.
—It is imperative that we leave this site immediately.
Sofia loosened the hug by a few centimeters.
—Why the rush?
Elena cradled the young woman’s cheeks between her calloused palms.
—Because you still don’t know the true identity of the shadow that pulls all these strings.
Queen Elizabeth took a tentative step towards them.
—Elena…
The newly arrived woman fixed her eyes, filled with glacial severity, upon the monarch.
—You gave me your royal word that you would watch over your safety.
Isabel’s voice broke with tears again.
—I did everything in my power.
Elena shook her head bitterly.
—It’s obvious that it wasn’t enough.
At that precise moment, Adrian’s boots echoed back through the stone passageway.
He marched flanked by a pair of halberdiers.
Upon coming face to face with Elena, the prince stopped dead in his tracks.
—Can you tell me who you are and how you got in here?
Sofia anticipated any response.
—She is my mother, Your Highness.
The heir scrutinized the woman’s features by torchlight.
A flash of recognition seemed to cross his forehead.
Elena held his gaze without blinking.
—You have inherited the same traits as your father Alfonso.
Adrian took a step towards the stranger.
—Did you ever meet the late king?
—More than I would have liked, unfortunately.
The prince frowned in bewilderment.
Elena closed her fingers tightly around Sofia’s wrist.
—Listen carefully, Your Highness: the moment you turn the lock on that last oak gate, a document will be revealed that can shatter your entire future.
Adrian didn’t take his eyes off her.
—All the more reason we must cross that threshold right now.
Elena shook her head very slowly.
—I’m afraid he doesn’t fully grasp the consequences of his words.
A veil of moisture covered the woman’s pupils.
—The papers stored back there are not limited to certifying the true birthplace of my daughter Sofia.
He looked away to fix his gaze directly on Queen Elizabeth.
—They also certify that not a single drop of King Alfonso’s blood runs through your veins.
Adrian’s face seemed carved from cold marble.
The queen stumbled backwards.
And for the first time since that storm had broken out in the throne room, Sofia managed to understand that the greatest mystery of the vault did not revolve around her own surname.
It revolved around the very origin of the heir to the crown.
CHAPTER 3. THE SECRET BURIED BENEATH THE THRONE
Adrian seemed to have put down roots on the stone slabs.
The only light inside the compound came from a pair of handheld flashlights that the sentries had brought closer after the shooting.
The silhouettes of those present danced distortedly against the damp walls.
Elena wouldn’t let go of her daughter’s fingers for anything in the world.
A few steps away, Queen Elizabeth gave the impression of having aged two decades in the blink of an eye.
“Say that again,” Adrian demanded hoarsely.
Elena bowed her head to the ground.
—I am truly sorry to be the one to say this.
—I have ordered him to repeat his words.
Sofia clearly perceived the tremor shaking her mother’s arm.
—The official record of his birth was deliberately falsified.
Adrian turned his steely pupils towards Isabel’s figure.
—Look me in the face, mother.
The sovereign’s first syllables were drowned out by her tears.
—Every decision I made in the past had the sole purpose of keeping you safe.
A dry laugh, devoid of all joy, burst from the prince’s chest.
—You’ve been hiding behind that same phrase for thirty years.
He closed the distance until he was just inches from the queen.
—Tell me once and for all whose blood I carry.
Isabel kept her lips sealed in despair.
Adrian slammed his fist against the wooden desk.
—What man am I the son of, Mother?!
Sofia took a step back purely out of instinct.
I had never imagined that the voice of that composed military man could break with such anguish.
It was Elena who spoke in the dim light.
—All the truth you seek lies hidden on the other side of that oak leaf.
Adrian filled his lungs with a deep breath of humid air.
He then extended his open palm towards the women.
—Give me the glass key.
Sofia made a gesture as if to place it in her hand.
However, Elena’s arm blocked his path.
“It has to be my daughter’s hand that operates that lock.”
The heir raised his eyebrows suspiciously.
—Why?
—Because the masters who forged this second invention conceived it in such a way that no one could manipulate the files without leaving a trace of who had breached the entrance.
Sofia fixed her gaze on the floral shield carved in iron.
He carefully fitted the transparent tip of the key.
He turned the stem slowly.
The hinges of the heavy oak gate gave way, letting out a prolonged groan.
On the other side, a small cell was exposed, free of all moisture and preserved in an amazing state despite the passage of decades.
The furniture consisted of a black wrought iron desk, a set of sealed chests, and a glass urn armored with iron bars.
Dominating the front wall hung an oil painting depicting two men in the bloom of youth.
The one on the left belonged to the late King Alfonso.
The one on the right depicted the infant Fernando.
Sofia looked into her mother’s eyes.
Elena raised her index finger, pointing at the man on the right.
—There you have the man who gave you life.
The girl took a few slow steps towards the painting.
Infant Fernando had warm brown pupils and his lips displayed the same serenity that she saw reflected every morning when she looked in a mirror.
He had spent his entire childhood trying to picture her face in his dreams.
Finally, I had him face to face.
Even if it were only through the strokes of an old brush.
Sofia timidly raised her fingers to caress the golden frame of the canvas.
“His love for the two of us never wavered for a single day,” Elena murmured behind her.
Tears streamed uncontrollably down the young woman’s eyelashes.
—What became of him, Mom?
Elena lowered her eyelids in infinite pain.
—He gave his last breath trying to cover our escape.
Sofia felt as if a dagger had split her chest in two.
Her mother’s arms instantly encircled her to hold her.
—But she closed her eyes with the comfort of knowing that you had arrived safe and sound in this world.
The girl buried her face in her mother’s shoulder.
They remained locked in that embrace for a long time.
Adrián waited in the background, showing absolute respect for that duel.
When silence settled again, the prince approached the iron desk.
Three separate files lay on the surface.
The cover of the first one bore the personal sealing wax of King Alfonso.
The second one bore the arms of the Infante Fernando.
The third one, however, had nothing more than a date on the calendar as its title.
November 17th.
Exactly the evening on which Elena’s trail was lost in the palace.
Adrian’s fingers opened the covers of that third file.
Inside lay an original birth announcement sheet.
Her pupils scanned the heading.
ADRIÁN DE VALDEMAR.
The day and year of his birth coincided without error.
Also the royal residence where he had seen the light.
However, one detail stood out in the middle of the parchment.
The line intended to record the name of the parent appeared crossed by a thick stroke of ink.
Right at the bottom there was a marginal note.
UNPROVEN PATERNAL FILIATION.
Adrian slowly raised the front of the document.
—I demand that someone explain the meaning of this note to me.
A violent tremor shook Queen Elizabeth’s body.
It was Elena who stepped forward to answer.
—King Alfonso suffered from sterility from birth, which always prevented him from fathering children.
The prince absorbed the revelation as if he had just been whipped across the face.
—That’s nothing but slander.
Isabel squeezed her eyelids shut, defeated.
—He’s not lying, son.
Adrian took a step back, tripping on the carpet.
—You can’t tell me this, mother…
The queen tried to shorten the distance with outstretched hands.
—For endless years, the king and I sought by all means to conceive an heir to the crown.
His sentences broke apart between stifled sobs.
—The day the doctors confirmed that we would never make it, a storm broke out in the palace over the future of the throne.
Adrian’s clouded gaze shifted towards Elena’s figure.
—Please continue with the story.
Elena took a breath before continuing.
—According to the laws of the kingdom, the crown should fall directly upon the head of his brother Fernando.
Sofia put two and two together in a second.
—And after him, the right passed to me as his only descendant.
Elena confirmed with a nod.
—The moment he learned of Sofia’s birth, His Majesty Alfonso was overcome with the fear that his family branch would be displaced from power forever.
Adrian’s fists clenched in helplessness.
—How far was he able to go?
The confession came from the queen’s lips like an almost inaudible whisper.
—He chose to register you in the royal books as if you carried his own blood.
The heir seemed to lose every last trace of breath.
—Knowing perfectly well that I was another man’s son?
Isabel burst into bitter tears.
—We gave you all our love and raised you like the crown prince from the cradle.
—That still doesn’t answer my question.
—That’s the truth, Adrian.
The monarch let her chin fall against her chest.
—King Alfonso was never the man who fathered you.
The weight of that silence seemed to crush the small stone cell.
Adrian turned around, pressing his forehead against the bare wall.
For a few moments, Sofia was certain that the man was going to collapse to his knees.
Despite everything, the prince managed to control the trembling in his shoulders with a deep breath.
When he spoke again, his tone was icy:
—What was my real father’s name?
Isabel’s move took so long that it was Elena again who broke the silence.
—He was an officer who served as a captain in the palace escort.
Adrian slowly turned his neck to look at her.
—Tell me what his name was.
It was the queen herself who pronounced the name.
—Gabriel de Montes.
A flicker of disbelief crossed the prince’s pupils.
That surname sounded extremely familiar to him.
Captain Gabriel had fallen in combat protecting the royal gates during an armed uprising decades earlier.
His oil painting occupied a place of honor in the hall of those who died for their country.
Adrian himself had come year after year to lay a laurel wreath at the foot of that painting.
Throughout his life he had thought that he was paying tribute to the loyalty of an exemplary soldier.
And she had just discovered that she had been bringing flowers to the memory of the man who gave her life.
His legs gave way and he ended up collapsing onto an iron stool.
Sofia gazed at him with a lump in her throat.
That powerful young man who just a couple of hours before seemed to own the world had just been orphaned of his own history in the blink of an eye.
Elena took a few steps until she stood next to the desk.
—There is still one file left to review.
He untied the tapes that sealed the second file.
Inside was a sworn statement bearing the signature of Fernando de Valdemar.
In those documents, he provided full and legal proof that the girl Sofía Herrera was his own flesh and blood.
Additionally, a formal request was attached addressed to the Council to alter the chain of command, adhering to the clauses of the old family treaty.
Adrian picked up the parchment from the table.
He read through each paragraph in a deathly silence.
When he finished, he raised his gray eyes to Sofia.
—According to the letter of these documents, you are the only person with a legitimate right to wear the crown.
Sofia took a step back, shaking her head with both hands.
—I have never aspired to sit on any throne.
Adrian placed the document back on the iron of the desk.
—Your personal wishes do not invalidate the legal force of what is signed here.
Elena tenderly put her arms around the young woman’s shoulders.
—Your father was never interested in the power of the court either.
Sofia raised her tear-filled eyes to her mother.
—Why was he killed then?
Queen Elizabeth’s cries could be heard again in the corner of the cell.
Elena turned her gaze towards the oak threshold.
—They silenced him because he managed to reveal the name of the person who was falsifying the kingdom’s books from within.
Adrian abruptly stood up from his seat.
—He speaks of Duke Ramiro.
Elena shook her head in the negative.
—The Duke of Valcárcel was nothing more than a pawn carrying out instructions from above.
—Instructions from your father, Leopoldo?
—Leopoldo was indeed the mastermind behind the entire counterfeiting network.
The woman took a heavy breath.
—However, the first order of adulteration that inaugurated this farce bore the signature of King Alfonso himself.
The sovereign squeezed her eyelids shut as if she wanted to erase herself from the world.
Adrian looked up at the canvas where the monarch he had revered all his life was depicted.
—He was behind it all from day one.
Elena nodded silently.
—And the moment his brother Fernando gathered the evidence of that infamy, he made the decision to expose it before the Council.
Sofia clenched her jaws in barely contained rage.
—That was the real reason why I never returned from the mountains.
-Exactly.
Elena pulled a folded sheet of paper from the bottom of the folder.
—Your father wrote these lines for me on the very eve of embarking on that journey of no return.
Sofia’s eyes began to scan the first few lines.
My beloved Elena: if fate prevents me from crossing that door again, keep our little one safe and never allow the powerful to turn her arrival into a death sentence.
The drops of tears began to stain the old ink on the parchment.
I have never longed for the weight of a royal tiara on our Sofia’s forehead.
My only dream is that she grows up free, without the need to hide her face in the shadows.
But if tomorrow someone tries to erase his name from the face of the earth, promise me that you will open the vault and hold the entire kingdom up to the mirror of truth.
The letter concluded with a final reflection.
The true value of a human being is never calculated by the titles they receive from birth, but by the nobility of their actions on the day they stand up to the truth.
Sofia clutched that testament of love to her chest.
It was at that precise moment that the echo of multiple footsteps resounded in the outer chamber.
With one swift motion, Adrian once again unsheathed the steel of his saber.
Leopold’s figure stood out against the oak frame, closely escorted by four armed men.
However, those individuals did not wear the insignia of the royal guard.
They all wore a distinctive black cloth badge tied to their arm.
Queen Elizabeth backed away until she hit the wall.
—Who let you out of the dungeon?
A triumphant smile curved the old man’s lips.
—I remind you, Your Majesty, that half of the passageways of this palace were built under my direct supervision.
She turned her mocking gaze towards Adrian.
—And I assure you that the remaining half of the court still has outstanding debts with my house.
The prince stepped forward, shielding Sofia with his own body.
—Don’t take another step, Leopoldo.
Slowly, the old man raised the barrel of a flintlock pistol.
His four henchmen leveled their muskets in the direction of the group.
—Give me that crystal key right now, young lady.
Sofia retreated to the back of the room.
Elena stood like a wall in front of her daughter.
—First he’ll have to go through me.
Leopoldo swept her gaze away with a look full of venom.
—My only sin twenty-four years ago was not personally making sure you were underground.
Elena clenched her fists fiercely.
—God knows it wasn’t for lack of effort on his part.
The man with the scar raised an eyebrow.
—It was the price of having placed my trust in the effectiveness of my son Ramiro.
Adrian stared at him without blinking.
—Duke Ramiro lies dead in his chambers.
Leopoldo’s face did not reflect the slightest surprise at the news.
—I am perfectly aware.
The queen put both hands to her chest, horrified.
A monstrous certainty suddenly struck Sofia’s mind.
—It was his own hand that took his life.
Leopoldo turned his cold eyes back towards the girl.
—Ramiro always proved to have a temperament that was too soft for state affairs.
—It carried your blood!
—And yet, he was one step away from selling me out to save his own skin.
The absolute coldness with which he pronounced that sentence caused even his own mercenaries to exchange doubtful glances.
Adrian knew how to read that crack on the spot.
—Put down those weapons immediately.
None of the four men obeyed the instruction.
Leopoldo let out a nasal laugh.
—Your voice has ceased to carry any weight within these walls, boy.
The prince did not take his eyes off the cannon pointed at him.
—Staining this ground with more blood will not resolve your situation.
—My only goal here is to reduce those files to ashes.
—To achieve this, he will have to shoot me point-blank in front of all these witnesses.
The old man aligned the crosshairs directly with the young man’s chest.
—Don’t test my pulse, Adrian.
Far from being intimidated, the prince moved one boot forward towards the weapon.
—I have walked this world for three decades convinced that I carry the blood of a sovereign.
His voice resonated without a single crack in the stone vault.
—And just a few minutes ago I found out that my whole upbringing was a sham.
Leopoldo frowned impatiently.
—In that case, you know that you lack any authority to give orders to this troop.
Adrian nodded his head, calmly agreeing with her.
—It is very likely that he has lost any right to that crown.
He then turned his gray eyes towards the four men with the black armbands.
—What no one in this world can take from me is the power to choose with what honor I want to live and die.
The barrel of one of the muskets descended a couple of centimeters towards the flagstones.
Leopoldo shot a withering look at his subordinate.
—Keep your weapon up, you idiot!
The mercenary remained rigid, without aiming again.
Adrián took it a step further, speaking directly to them.
—They have been trained for years under the lie that loyalty to the kingdom demands carrying out any atrocity without asking questions.
He scanned the faces of the escort one by one.
—But no royal shield on earth washes away the stain of shedding innocent blood for hire.
Leopoldo ground his teeth, beside himself.
—Shut your mouth already!
In a sudden turn, the old man deflected the muzzle of the pistol, aiming it directly at Sofia’s heart.
The whole scene unfolded in a flash.
Elena’s scream tore through the camera.
Adrian threw himself sideways, getting in the way.
The thunder of the gunpowder made even the foundations of the vault vibrate.
Sofia squeezed her eyelids shut reflexively.
The moment she opened them again, she found the prince kneeling on the pavement.
She was holding the upper part of her left shoulder with her right hand.
A scarlet stain was beginning to soak into the gold embroidery of his black jacket.
Elena dropped to her knees beside him to staunch the wound.
—We need to bring in a surgeon immediately!
With feverish hands, Leopoldo searched for the gunpowder flask to re-prime the weapon.
However, the figure of the commander of the royal guard burst running up behind him.
Two halberdiers fell on top of him, pinning his arms against the wall.
The pistol rolled noisily across the tiles.
“In the name of the law and the kingdom, you are under arrest!” the officer declared.
Leopoldo thrashed about in futile fury among the guards.
“Let go of my arms! You have no idea who you’re dealing with!”
With great effort, Adrián managed to lift his chin from the ground.
Despite the grimace of pain that tightened his mouth, he managed a half-smile.
—It seems my voice still carries some weight in this palace.
The sentries dragged the old man out through the underground tunnel.
Queen Elizabeth fell to her knees beside the young man’s bloodied side.
—My dear child…
Adrian turned his eyes towards the sovereign.
For the first time in thirty years, that nickname sounded different in his ears.
—Right now, I don’t know if I have the strength left to continue giving you the title of mother.
Tears flowed freely down Isabel’s aged face.
—I deserve it, Adrian.
The prince lowered his eyelids for a moment.
Then, in a whisper, she added:
—What I can never deny is that your arms were the only ones that took care of me from the cradle.
The queen placed her trembling lips on the young man’s sweaty forehead.
Standing next to the desk, Sofia contemplated the painting in silence.
He had crossed the doors of Valdemar that morning with the sole aspiration of serving the tables without anyone noticing his presence.
And the day ended witnessing how the foundations of an entire dynasty struggled not to collapse under the weight of their own sins.
Three weeks after that night, the discovery of the so-called Chamber of Names was made public throughout the territory.
The dusty files passed into the hands of a commission made up of magistrates, chroniclers, and members of the Valdemar citizen courts.
One by one, the adulterations concocted in the shadows over generations came to light.
Hundreds of dispossessed lineages succeeded in having their legitimate lands restored to them.
Countless sentences of banishment or imprisonment handed down based on false evidence were automatically annulled.
Elena Herrera’s surname was restored with all the honors before the law.
And the memory of the infant Fernando de Valdemar was the object of a solemn act of redress before all his people.
Sofia attended the funeral services dressed in full mourning attire.
Hanging from a chain on her chest, the tiny crystal key glittered.
Her mother walked beside her, holding her arm.
For the first time since she could remember, Sofia walked through life free from the terror of being alone in the world.
For his part, Adrián managed to recover satisfactorily from the gunshot wound to his shoulder.
As soon as the doctors discharged him, he urgently summoned the full Council of the Crown.
The old chancellors took it for granted that the prince would fight tooth and nail to retain his royal prerogatives.
There were even voices within the cabinet that suggested in hushed tones that he should throw into the fire the parchments that called his birth into question.
Adrián nipped any such suggestion in the bud.
—Any throne built on the foundations of deceit ends up sooner or later chained to its own lie.
He then placed on the Council table the document signed with his irrevocable abdication of succession rights.
The announcement hit the entire nation like a thunderbolt.
However, the uproar reached its peak on the day the magistrates ruled that the young Sofia Herrera was the legitimate holder of the dynastic rights according to the ancient treaties.
The official notification reached the girl while she was resting in a modest room in the inner wing.
No diadem rested on her temples.
Nor did she wear any jewelry adorned with precious stones.
She was wearing nothing but her usual gray cloth skirt and the locket she had recovered from her mother.
Adrian crossed the threshold of the room escorted by a couple of court secretaries.
—The members of the Council are waiting in the chapter house to receive you.
Sofia looked up from her seat by the balcony.
—You don’t need to tell me the reason for the hearing.
A serene smile softened Adrian’s features.
—In that case, you are also aware that you have the full right to reject the offer.
The young woman turned her gaze towards the panes of the window.
Down below, among the flowerbeds of the royal garden, half a dozen day laborers and maids were busy.
A young girl of the same age was brushing the marble steps with water.
Sofia saw her own reflection in the bent back of that worker.
—What path awaits me if I say yes?
—Years of study and an immense burden await you.
—And what will happen to the country if I step aside?
—The courts will be forced to design an unprecedented mechanism to choose who will lead the State.
Sofia fell into a reflective silence.
After a minute, she looked again into Adrian’s gray eyes.
—If you were in my shoes today, what decision would you make?
The former heir pondered the answer for a few moments.
—If you had asked me thirty days ago, I assure you I would have moved heaven and earth to avoid letting go of the scepter.
She arched her lips with a hint of melancholy.
—But after what I’ve been through, my only aspiration is to see a kingdom where no human being is forced to bury their true surname to save their skin.
Sofia nodded firmly.
The balance had just tipped within him.
The solemn ceremony took place four weeks later.
The grand throne room was not large enough to accommodate the crowd.
The glow of the crystal chandeliers was reflected on the foreheads of chancellors, nobles of ancient lineage, and delegates elected from the guilds of the common people.
Occupying the benches in the first row were exactly the same ladies of the court who a month earlier had mocked the maid’s sewn shoes.
Countess Isabella de Valcárcel wore a midnight blue velvet dress for the occasion.
The instant he saw Sofia’s silhouette appear under the entrance arch, he fixed his gaze on the tip of his shoe.
Sofia walked calmly across the same white marble tiles where weeks before she had knelt to gather the shards of a broken glass.
On this day, his hands were not carrying any tray.
She was wearing a simple, off-white dress, completely devoid of any flashy jewelry.
Flanking them were his mother Elena and Adrián himself.
At the foot of the royal dais, the Grand Chancellor read the edict proclaiming her the legitimate successor of the House of Valdemar.
Sofia waited for the protocol to conclude without uttering a syllable.
He then asked permission to address the assembly.
A buzz of anticipation spread like wildfire from row to row.
The young woman climbed the two steps to stand behind the wooden lectern.
He calmly scanned the preferred seating areas.
He effortlessly identified dozens of familiar faces.
Ladies and gentlemen who had never deigned to say good morning to him when he changed their plates at banquets.
Aristocrats who had burst into open laughter while she pricked her fingers picking up broken glass from the pavement.
The same people who at this moment bowed their heads in his presence.
Sofia filled her lungs with air before starting.
—Just a month ago I crossed those golden doors wearing the servant’s apron.
Not even the flight of a fly could be heard under the vaults of the hall.
—In this very place it was made clear to me that a woman of my condition was an obstacle amidst so much greatness.
On her bench, Isabella buried her head even further between her shoulders.
—I was ridiculed for the worn cloth of my clothes, the patches on my shoes, and the roughness of my skin.
Sofia raised both open hands, showing them to the audience.
—With these two palms I have scrubbed the flagstones you are standing on today.
—I have used them to carry buckets of ice water from the well.
—And with them I have filled the glasses of gentlemen who never even bothered to ask what my name was.
He turned his face slightly to look at Elena.
—But they also happen to be the same hands that allowed me to hold my mother close to my chest after having mourned her as though she were dead for almost my entire life.
The glimmer of tears appeared in her brown pupils.
—Today, ancient laws dictate that I have the right to wear a crown on my forehead.
He paused briefly, pacing around the room.
—However, if this path has taught me anything, it is that the dignity of a human being does not go up or down a single step because an old parchment with a title appears in a basement.
The entire auditorium seemed to hold its breath.
—I absolutely refuse to preside over a country where a humble girl needs to prove that she has royal blood in her veins to be treated with due respect.
Behind him, Adrián let out a barely perceptible smile of pride.
Sofia resumed her speech in a clear voice.
—I assume before you the historic commission that the courts confer upon me today.
The senior chancellor bowed formally from his seat.
However, Sofia raised her right palm, stopping the gesture.
—But I do so subject to a non-negotiable clause.
The old cabinet ministers looked at each other with obvious unease.
—I demand that a process be opened immediately to abolish the old regime of castes and privileges of birth, and that the political destiny of our nation be decided at the ballot box by the free will of all its citizens.
A wave of astonished murmurs shook every corner of the room.
Sofia turned her eyes towards the golden throne chair.
—I have not come here to take the position of new mistress and lady over the destiny of others.
—I am here to ensure that the tragedy that devastated my family never happens again under this sky.
For several seconds, no one in the room managed to react.
It was then that Adrian’s hands broke the ice with a firm applause.
Elena’s hands immediately joined in.
They were followed by the magistrates of the courts.
And in a matter of seconds, the entire hall was resounding with thunderous applause.
Only Countess Isabella remained glued to her seat.
Once the official ceremony was over, Sofia changed her steps to approach her directly.
Upon seeing her arrive, the young aristocrat stood up as if propelled by a spring.
—Your Royal Highness…
Sofia cut him off in a tone devoid of any bitterness.
—Just call me Sofia.
Isabella blinked a couple of times, taken aback.
—I don’t quite understand…
—My first name is Sofia, Countess; nothing more than that.
The late duke’s daughter bowed her head in shame.
—Please accept my apologies for what happened that day.
Sofia gazed at her silently for a couple of seconds.
—All I want is for this lesson to serve as a reminder in the future of how you treated others when you assumed no powerful person was watching you.
He did not consider it necessary to add another word.
He turned around and walked away calmly.
Well past midnight, Sofia retraced her steps until she entered the room where the Hand of the Oath rested.
Absolute peace reigned in the halls of the Alcázar.
The night watch had already extinguished most of the candles.
Beside the white marble column awaited the calm silhouette of his mother.
Elena kept her pupils fixed on the contours of the unique piece of glass.
“I confess that for years I had a deep aversion to this sculpture,” the woman said in a low voice.
Sofia let out a soft smile.
—Don’t think that I felt much sympathy for him.
He shortened the distance until he touched the edge of the pedestal.
The clear hand remained unchanged in its place.
His middle finger continued to point alone towards the heights.
By then, Sofia was already aware of the true story behind her size.
I had never had anything to do with ancient spells.
Nor did he possess any virtue to point out those chosen from the royal blood.
The piece had come from the chisel of a master glassmaker hired centuries ago by one of the original custodians of the secret archive.
That honest craftsman had had to silently endure the scorn and abuse of the nobility for having flatly refused to stamp false seals on the land books.
Shortly before surrendering his soul, he carved that hand with the finger raised and donated it to the court as a silent and perpetual mockery dedicated to all the proud who confused the gold in their coffers with the nobility of the soul.
Sofia scanned the transparent folds of the glass.
It was ironic to think that, generation after generation, the most distinguished ladies of the kingdom had paraded to caress that figure, convinced that the gesture consecrated their superiority of caste.
Without ever suspecting what they were really laughing about.
A melancholic smile lit up Elena’s face.
—Every time your father passed by this pedestal, he had to bite his lip to keep from bursting out laughing.
Sofia turned her face towards her with curiosity.
—Oh, really? And why is that?
—Because he used to whisper in my ear that this sculpture was the only inhabitant of the entire palace with enough guts to tell the powerful to their faces what they deserved.
Mother and daughter shared a clear laugh in the dimness of the living room.
Next, Elena put her hand in her skirt pocket to take out a small object.
It was the old, worn wooden chest.
Exactly the same little box that had accompanied Sofia in her humble room since she was a child.
—There is still a corner of this box that you never discovered.
He pressed with his thumb a hidden tablet under the false bottom.
The spring gave way, revealing a black and white portrait.
The image showed the infant Fernando holding with infinite care a baby just a few days old.
Elena’s young face was silhouetted beside him.
A luminous happiness emanated from all three faces.
Tears welled up in Sofia’s eyes again.
—Are those the three of us in the portrait?
Elena nodded tenderly.
—It was the only moment in our lives when we could pose together without feeling the breath of fear on the back of our necks.
Sofia held up the cardboard with trembling fingers.
Upon turning it over, he stumbled upon a dedication written in his father’s firm handwriting.
FOR MY LITTLE SOFIA: MAY SHE NEVER IN HER LIFE NEED TO WEAR A CROWN TO KNOW HER WORTH.
The girl squeezed her eyelids shut, letting those words embrace her soul.
She had walked the world for twenty-three years carrying the sorrow of believing herself to be a daughter of oblivion.
And that night she finally understood that she had come into this life enveloped in immense love from her very first breath.
He wrapped his arms tightly around his mother’s neck.
When she finally pulled her face away, she discovered Adrian’s silhouette waiting discreetly under the archway of the door.
The young man offered a warm smile from the doorway.
—Am I arriving at a bad time?
Sofia shook her head gently.
—Go ahead, you’re not interrupting anything.
Adrian walked leisurely until he stopped next to the marble column.
He gazed at the glass sculpture for a moment.
Then he turned his gray eyes back to the girl.
—It’s paradoxical, to say the least.
-What are you talking about?
—To the fact that we both spent our entire lives surrounded by a court that took for granted who we each were.
Sofia smiled back.
—Only to discover that they were all completely wrong.
Adrian nodded silently.
Sofia then unhooked the tiny glass key she wore around her neck.
She held it up for a second in front of the last lit candelabra, letting the light play among its six carved petals.
Then, she gently placed it at the bottom of her mother’s wooden chest and closed the lid.
“Don’t you plan to take it with you as an emblem of your right to the throne?” Adrian wondered.
Sofia shook her head peacefully.
—I will keep it under lock and key only as a tribute to the memory of those who gave their lives so that today we could walk without lies.
Elena proudly put her arm around her daughter’s shoulders.
Together, the three turned their backs on the stage and started walking towards the exit.
Behind it, on its white marble column, remained the Hand of the Oath.
Enveloped in the stillness of the night.
Stay put.
Keeping his single finger raised towards the golden vaults of the palace.
But, for the first time in centuries of history, the message carved into its crystal had ceased to be an enigma for the court.
Because throughout that historic evening, the young maid with the mended shoes had left behind a lesson that no palace ritual, no royal parchment, and no diamond diadem would ever have the power to grant.
True nobility isn’t found in surnames.
It is won through actions.
END.
