A Puppet’s Broken String (The Fated Blood Trilogy #2)

Chapter 1 Downfall

Downfall

Lucian

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apers rustle beneath my fingers, slipping off the pile one by one.

Labyrinth claimed to care for my father, yet no trace of him exists within these cursed walls.

I sink to the floor, reaching for the final drawer of the glass desk.

A hum vibrates through my hand as I touch the handle.

I tug hard, to no avail, as sweat collects in my palms.

The room is suffocating, the air stale. There are no windows, only the flickering yellow light overhead. It’s just dim enough to read without attracting attention—hidden in the kingdom’s second most private chamber: Labyrinth’s study.

The drawer is stuck, not locked. I continue to pull, the tendons in my wrist burning as I try to open the damned thing. Then, as the echo of footsteps approaches, my fingers freeze.

Quickly, I rise, flick the lights off, and curl into the darkest corner of the room, praying it’s Yuki. The door opens, light slanting in from the hallway, and I hold my breath.

Yuki’s voice breaks the silence, thank the gods. “We gotta go, hotshot.”

I pull myself up and flick the lights back on. “Get ready to exit.”

Yuki moves like a shadow, the soft scuff of his boots pressing against stone as he climbs toward the vent. I head back to the drawer, wrapping my fingers tighter this time.

Down the hall, another set of footsteps grows nearer, just behind Yuki. He must have sprinted here.

Yuki whispers down from above, voice tight, “Lucian—”

I hold up a finger to silence him, wishing I could also silence the footsteps that blare with each breath. Anxiety grows with each thump from the hall, my palms slick with sweat, making it difficult to grasp the drawer.

“You have maybe sixty seconds,” Yuki warns.

My teeth grit as my jaw tightens involuntarily. “Who is it?”

The pressure in my chest mounts. The silence is heavy, as if the question was uncalled for. We both know the answer.

Finally, Yuki says, “Leiana.”

I pull once more, desperate. With that final, agonizing tug, the drawer opens. My heart stops. Inside is nothing like the other drawers—no papers, no trinkets or pens. Instead, there is an array of silver carvings, each familiar and all protected by a layer of glass.

Labyrinth did keep a piece of my father—a piece of my childhood. I recall my father giving me each of these silvers and instructing me to imbue them with my magic.

I could shatter the glass with little consequence—nothing but a touch of blood—and reach for one.

“Luc! What are you doing?” Yuki hisses.

“Get out of here,” I say, settling my hand on the glass. The silvers throb, even from beneath the barrier.

Then, something grabs my hand. My heart drops as I twist away from their hold, swinging my arm in hopes of hitting the assailant in the nose, shattering it and ridding them quickly.

They catch my hand. I fight to free it.

“Luc!” they scream.

Yuki. He squeezes my fist, cursing beneath his breath. My arms slacken, trembling.

He twists my body towards the door and shoves me. “Go, now!”

He climbs back into the vent as I open the door and step into the hallway of Ilyria’s kingdom.

My head pounds; I have to turn around, go back to the silvers.

My torso twists as the sound of clinking heels grows closer.

I hurry to right myself, moving forward down the hall when I spot Leiana, smiling as though she’s caught me red-handed.

I walk nonchalantly; I don’t feel it—though I have nothing incriminating on me.

The masses of Folkara are screaming that I don’t belong on the throne, on account of my allegiance to the Nepenthes.

Everyone is watching, waiting for a reason to take me down.

Leiana is likely the head runner of the public vilification.

“Lucian,” Leiana says with a faux smile.

“Leiana.” I bow my head slightly. “If you’ll excuse me.”

I walk past her, foolishly hoping to escape this encounter.

Then her voice rings—shrill as it bounces between the walls behind me, “Guards. Pat him down.”

I stop in my tracks, cursing beneath my breath. Thank the gods I didn’t take a silver.

Guards flank me on either side. I walk ahead with them, guiding me into a private room. At the very least, Leiana gives me that.

One guard steps behind me. He raises my arms, patting down my sides, then moves down my legs and tells me to turn. I meet Leiana’s eyes as they touch every part of me.

“Would you like us to strip him, Your Majesty?”

I take a deep breath, clenching my jaw.

Leiana raises a dismissing hand. “No, that will be all.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose as the guards position themselves beside Leiana.

“It’s a shame for you lot.” I take a step forward. “I’ve heard I’m prettier nude.”

Leiana places a hand on my chest before I can leave the room. She flashes a fake smile. “You’ll have to address the people.”

I offer her the same smile. “My pleasure.”

“Of Folkara,” Leiana adds. She stands taller, trying to stare down at me. “Concerning the Nepenthes.”

My jaw clenches, pain shooting through my temples. I straighten my spine and lift my chin. “You might not enjoy what I have to say.”

Leiana raises a finger to my cheek. Silver jewelry adorns her hand from the tip of her nail to her wrist, cold against my skin. “Fret not, darling. I can spin you however I wish.” Her hand runs down my face, dropping to her side as she steps back, exiting the room before I do.

I clench my jaw, taking a deep breath before following her out. I wish I’d taken those damn silvers. Labyrinth surely doesn’t possess them to honor my father. They’re filled with my magic.

What could he possibly use them for?

I step out of the room as servants pass, forcing me to regain composure quickly. They offer a smile, and I return it, causing one of the young women to blush. She holds my gaze until she’s reprimanded by an elder.

I keep walking until I reach Azaire’s room.

I sit on his barren bed and open the drawers.

It feels wrong to visit the kingdom and not step foot into this room; that would mean admitting he’s truly gone.

Yet the drawers are empty, his belongings gone, and I shut them harder than I mean to, my hands trembling.

When Father passed, I missed him, though in some ways, it feels like he has always been gone, and those first few years I spent with him were the dream. With Azaire, there’s a hole in me—a missing limb, a loose organ.

I know what he would say: the wound never closes, but life will begin to grow around it. That, one day, it will scar.

I would like to believe that to be true. I’m not so sure it is, for a scar is always visible.

I make my way to the armory, guilt in each step.

I should have destroyed the Weapon when Azaire wanted me to.

Now, it will be used to threaten every lesser planet beyond Ilyria and Folkara.

Everyone knows it—I exposed Leiana and Labyrinth’s plans at the press meeting where I stood beside Azaire.

To the audience, the latter was the greater sin.

The armory door is unlocked—the same room where the Ilyrian soldiers tried to force my magic into the Weapon. I step inside, surrounded by swords, bows, and arrows lining every wall, though nothing imposing sits in the center. As usual, the Weapon isn’t here, which scares me more than if it were.

It’s somewhere I can’t reach, ready to be used.