Chapter 53
It was, without a doubt, the worst idea Alaric had ever had.
The Rite of Shar'Deren, typically a perfect distraction, had been cancelled thanks to the investigation of Orvath’s chapel and its tunnels. Which meant no sermon. Just a kingdom’s worth of Silverwards standing around with too little to do and too much armor to feel subtle.
And so, naturally, it fell to Cedric—loyal, perpetually underpaid Cedric—to follow the brilliant plan of “breaking into the Lord’s Justiciar Office” to retrieve and replace the list of names.
Yes, that list. The one ending with Princess's name.
Now securely logged and filed away in the archive vault.
Behind men with swords who did not appreciate surprise visitors anymore.
Especially now that Cedric—along with the prince, the princess, and Vesena—had been reported to the guard registry as individuals requiring constant observation.
The pristine wing of the castle complex was elegant and utterly humorless.
Vaulted ceilings, polished stone, guards stationed at every marble archway.
Cedric, dressed in the neutral livery of an off-duty steward, walked like he belonged, heart thudding like a guilty drum.
He was good at this. Still, that didn’t stop him from muttering curses and imagining the worst-case scenarios.
All this, because Alaric decided the original list had “high historical value” and wanted to swap it with a version redacted just enough to avoid open war.
Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.
Cedric exhaled and tucked the replacement list into his vest. He was going to die today. Probably stabbed by a man named Branor who ate too much salted boar. What a legacy.
It was, of course, a flawless plan. Flawless, meaning doomed. Alaric—His Royal Depth of Bad Ideas—was in charge of the “confusion.” Cedric, as ever, was in charge of everything else. Including forging the revised ledger of names instead of sleeping like a reasonable person.
He took his place near the designated column, watching the way the guards glanced toward the growing crowd around Alaric as he recalled some made-up story.
Cedric stared, unimpressed and already imagining which shrub to bury him under.
Then, on cue, Alaric paused mid-sentence, squinting theatrically toward a decorative suit of armor near the far end of the corridor.
“Stop! You there—what are you doing by the Archives?”
That got everyone's attention.
Alaric bolted toward the armor, cloak billowing, calling over his shoulder that the intruder had run around the corner.
The Silverwards took the bait, breaking formation as Alaric disappeared down the corridor.
Two lingered, then moved a few paces forward, hand drifting to his weapon, leaving just enough space.
Cedric ducked past the guards and into the Justicar Office door, and made for the back shelves where sealed documents were categorized by event. His heart pounded, each step a silent curse toward Alaric, fate and all things princely.
The list was where Vesena told him it should be—neatly stored in a leather-bound folio marked “Inquiries – Royal Oversight.”
He was elbow-deep in treason when the handle rattled.
Cedric went still—mid-swap, one scroll in each hand, like some idiot street magician caught halfway through a trick no one asked for. The real death sentence was the sound that followed: footsteps. Multiple. Approaching fast.
Fuck.
His back dampened instantly. Where the hell was Alaric?
Think. Think. Think. His eyes darted to the nearest window—too high. Maybe he could hide behind the—
And then, miraculously, salvation arrived. In the shape of a very small, very serious grunt.
“Excuse me!” Royal Menace’s voice rang out just outside the door. “I saw someone sneaking with a dagger. At the end of the corridor! He looked like the one who attacked the Grand Marshal.”
Cedric blinked. There was a shuffle, metal shifting. The guards—bless their rulebook-loving hearts—moved away at once.
He had no idea what kind of chaos was unfolding beyond the door, but he wasn’t about to question it. With expert speed, Cedric slipped the false scroll into place, tucked the real one inside his jacket, and padded silently to the hallway.
Empty. Not a single guard or kid in sight.
He walked, sweating like a sinner in the chapel, toward the meeting point. A tucked-away corner behind the southern wing, where all good conspiracies and worse ideas were known to end.
And there, striding toward him like he hadn’t just hurled half the castle into panic, was Alaric.
“You have it?” he asked, as breezily as if inquiring about the wine list.
Cedric gave him a look. “Yes. And I’m alive. Thank you for your concern.”
Alaric grinned. “Oh, I had complete faith.”
“Which explains why I nearly pissed myself swapping state secrets in an archive guarded like a dragon’s arse,” Cedric muttered.
“Did you?” Alaric asked, visibly enjoying himself.
“I didn’t. But it was close.”
Alaric chuckled, then unrolled the scroll. His eyes skimmed the ink with sharp interest.
“Were you looking for something?”
Dead. They were so very dead.
Cedric turned slowly, as one might turn to greet Myrris.
Thalen stood behind them, hands clasped behind his back, expression pure as a monastery window. Which only made it worse. His eyes flicked between them with all the innocent curiosity of someone moments away from blackmail.
“I saw you acting strange,” Thalen explained, chipper, “and decided to help.”
Cedric resisted the urge to bang his head against the nearest pillar. Alaric, to his lack of shame, slid the scroll behind his back like that would help. “We… I… actually, it’s—”
Cedric was just about to fake a coughing fit and run when Thalen turned to Alaric, dead serious.
“I gave you a map,” he observed.
Alaric blinked. “You did.”
“There’s a passage,” Thalen continued, tone now bordering on wounded authority. “Hidden in the back corridor. It leads under the north wing. I marked it. It’s in the upper left corner.”
Cedric stared at him, mouth slightly ajar. Alaric opened his eyes like the boy had just confessed to building the palace itself.
“Excuse me?” Alaric stammered.
Thalen’s frown deepened. “What did you think? That I made it up? That map took me months. It’s a very accurate map. It even has the tunnels that got sealed.”
Cedric felt something unhinge in his brain.
Thalen sighed, full of disappointment. “I really do hope I’ll be smarter when I grow up.”
Then he turned on his heel and walked off, leaving the silence bloated with shame and incredulity.