Silence stretched.
Not empty silence.
The kind that pressed.
The kind that waited for someone to break first.
The man in gold broke it.
"How did you come here?"
Same question.
Different weight.
I swallowed.
"I do not know."
A murmur rippled through the guards.
He did not look away from me.
"You appeared inside royal grounds."
"I know."
"You appeared inside my private enclosure."
"I know."
His voice dropped slightly.
"Explain."
I inhaled.
"I was… working."
The word felt small for what I couldn't say.
"Something went wrong."
Not a lie.
Not the truth either.
Just the safest piece of it.
One of the guards muttered something under his breath.
I caught a single word.
Sorcery.
My stomach tightened.
"No," I said quickly.
Too quickly.
Several heads turned toward me.
"I am not doing sorcery."
The sentence sounded clumsy in the old language.
I forced myself to slow down.
"I was not doing sorcery."
My mouth opened.
Closed.
Because I had absolutely no alternative explanation that would not get me burned, stabbed, or both.
I lifted my head.
Looked directly at him.
Which felt like voluntarily stepping in front of an oncoming cart.
"I did not perform magic."
"I do not know how this happened."
"I am as confused as you are."
The room felt very still.
Not quiet.
Watchful.
He studied my face.
Not glancing.
Not skimming.
Studying.
Like a man used to spotting lies.
Used to extracting them.
I held his gaze.
Not because I was fearless.
But because I had nothing to hide in this particular moment.
Confusion is difficult to fake.
And mine was real.
Something shifted in his expression.
Not trust.
Not belief.
But the smallest fracture in certainty.
He spoke again.
"Where do you come from?"
I hesitated.
Not because I wanted to lie.
Because I had no version of the truth that would make sense here.
"The place I come from…"
I searched for words that did not exist in his world.
"…is not known to many."
A weak sentence.
I hated it.
"It is complex."
That was worse.
His jaw tightened.
Patience was leaving him.
I could feel it.
I didn't blame him.
If I were him, I would already be ordering my execution.
He stepped closer.
Close enough that I could see the faint lines at the corners of his eyes.
"Do you know where you are?"
I swallowed.
"No."
"Do you know who stands before you?"
I looked up at him.
At the man everyone else treated like gravity itself.
"I do not."
The answer landed heavy.
Not because it was shocking.
But because it was absolute.
I knew nothing.
Not the land.
Not the era.
Not the rules.
Not the man who could decide whether I breathed tomorrow.
The silence that followed was different from before.
Thicker.
Colder.
Like the moment before a storm breaks.
And I understood something with terrible clarity.
Not knowing was no longer just a problem.
It was my greatest danger.