Chapter 40
CHAPTER FORTY
Duke Leander Vaughn of Valneth also exhibits signs of madness, bashing his head against the wall, blood running down his face and dripping onto the stone below.
Guards rush across the room in an attempt to calm Leander, but he only takes a sword from his belt and stabs it into the gut of another, causing a mass panic as people flee the room.
Someone grabs a piece of shattered glass from the floor to examine it, sniffing the liquid before calling out. “Scorpion’s Haze! Don’t drink the wine!”
The room descends into chaos. Nobles scatter in a frenzy, pushing one another out of the way as they race for the doors.
The thunder of hurried footsteps and the sharp edge of panicked cries fill the chamber as wine glasses fall.
Glass shards scatter across the stone, coating the floor with red, causing people to slip as they flee.
“My, Princess, you seem rather relaxed given the circumstance,” Roderick points out.
Shit. I stood there in silence, watching the manic scene unfold before me without reacting. I didn’t gasp or flinch, my face an unreadable calm mask while others ran for their lives. It is my error—not playing the part, letting Roderick observe me so closely.
I lift my gaze to meet his. “So are you,” I counter.
“Was that truly necessary?” Roderick’s voice turns harsh.
“Nikolas is the leader of the rebellion,” I whisper.
“Then you should have told the King that.”
“I was going to tell Casimir myself, but he seems a bit preoccupied now,” I reply calmly.
The chaos around us grows. Leander dives into the crowd of nobles, punching one across the face.
White foam spills from Nikolas’ lips as he screams in agony, writhing on the floor.
More highborns fall into psychosis, the poison taking hold of their bodies as they go insane.
Casimir and Barnham enter the room, confusion crossing their features as they take in the scene around them.
“He told you his namesake?” Roderick’s brows lower into a scowl.
“He did.”
“He shouldn’t have.”
I scoff. “He can do what he pleases.”
Roderick’s aura is wildly threatening. “You are a little hellion who is a stain on this court and a direct threat to our people.”
“You have no idea what I’m capable of,” I threaten, clenching my jaw.
“Spoken like a true Valantis.” He watches me with precise scrutiny.
I gather the fabric of my dress into my hands and move through the sea of royals.
My body weaves in and out of the disorder, dodging blows from nearby fights as people try to defend themselves against the crazed ones.
Running down the hall, I push open the door to my room and slam it shut behind me.
I quickly loosen the corset strings to undress myself. I pull on the pair of riding pants, tuck in the tunic, and cinch a belt around my hips. With my satchel and dagger in hand, I tie my cloak around my shoulders and dart from the room.
The halls are alive with chaos as I run toward the library. Kieran, Gilead, and Marek move past me as they head toward the banquet hall, alerted to the scene. As I turn the corner, the ornate doors of the library come into view. Once I escape through the secret tunnel I found, I will be free.
“Hey!” A voice booms across the space.
Glancing behind me, I see men running in my direction. They wear a strange set of armor, the plates made of bronze, with a wolf stamped in the center. Underneath, they wear blue and gold, their clothing oddly patchworked together.
Rebellion soldiers.
An arrow whizzes past my head, narrowly missing me.
A yelp escapes my throat as I duck and turn to keep running toward the library.
This is bad. They shouldn’t be here. The rebellion must be mounting an attack on the castle the same night I decided to poison Nikolas.
Casimir is in danger—a pit forms in my stomach at the thought.
“Get the princess!” I hear a man’s voice call out.
A gust of wind hits me, causing me to stumble as I run.
I grasp at the walls to hold me up as I continue running, desperate to get away.
My fingers close around the library door handle, but a vine shoots out, wrapping around my ankle.
I try to lift my foot, but it’s too late.
I hit the stone, and the impact forces the air from my lungs.
Vines drag me across stone, panic surging as I dig through my bag and pull out my dagger, swinging my arm to cut the tendril. It snaps, curling back down the hall as it retreats. Standing, I turn and keep running. Up ahead, a few stray Elvarrans are lingering in the narrow hall, blocking my path.
“Sorry!” I cry out, shoving past them as I run through.
“Stop her!” I hear someone call out, their voice echoing after me.
My boots slide across stone as I run around the corner, desperate to get away.
I descend deeper into the chaos, the reverberation of blades clashing as I step over fallen bodies.
A bolt of panic strikes through me—I must escape now, otherwise I may never be free.
An arrow narrowly misses me once again, the tip scraping against my arm and tearing the fabric of my cloak.
Glancing over my shoulder, I see a rebellion soldier lining up another shot in my direction.
“Rae!” I hear someone call out.
Turning, I see Hans and Lucio. Relief floods through me like a tidal wave as I run toward them. They will be able to fight off these soldiers and rescue me from certain death.
“A little help!” I call out, adrenaline pumping through my veins. My steps slow as I realize Hans and Lucio are wearing bronze armor, and I come to a sudden halt.
They are rebel soldiers.
An arrow hits my shoulder, causing me to stumble as I cry out in pain. Grunting, I twist and yank it out. The pain is excruciating as a river of hot blood runs down my back.
“Rae, I’ve got you.” Hans stops in front of me, concern filling his features. “Are you hurt?”
I shake my head, backing away slowly. “No…” My voice trembles with fear as I glance over my shoulder at the men closing in on us. “I must go.” I turn to my left and dash down a nearby corridor.
The smell of ash invades my senses, and when I look up, I can see banners aflame in the hall. Thick smoke makes it difficult to see and stings my eyes as I run. An arm bands around my waist as someone yanks me back.
I turn to swipe my dagger at the man, but he knocks my attack away with ease.
I thrash in his grip, kicking and punching to break free, but his grip only tightens around me.
In a panic, I swing my arm and feel my dagger make contact with flesh.
He lets out a roar of pain from the stab.
The soldier’s fist closes around a section of my scalp as he throws me against the wall.
The stone is hard and unyielding when I hit it, and the breath knocks from my lungs once more.
Head spinning, I try to remain standing, but the man grabs me again.
“What do you want?” I cry out, swinging my dagger.
He lets out a hearty chuckle at my distress. “The commander requested we fetch you.”
The commander of the rebellion? I don’t understand what Nikolas wants with me.
He should be incapacitated entirely by now, the poison taking control of his whole system.
He is not of sound mind to give any orders—likely still in a frenzy in the banquet hall—which means this plan to capture me was in place long before.
I kick out my boot, his knee crunching from the force.
The brute stumbles back. In the slight moment of opportunity, I pull the burning banner off the wall and wrap the fabric around the soldier.
Ash rains down around us, and the man screams in horror.
The smell of scorched flesh invades my senses, acrid and pungent.
He attempts to pull himself free from the fabric, but I keep wrapping it over his head, pulling it taut from behind to suffocate him.
The soldier’s fingers claw away at the banner.
I reach out and yank more fabric back, the black smoke growing around us.
I feel no pain, the fire blazing against my skin as I hold the burning banner in place.
Eventually, the soldier stops moving and falls to the floor.