Chapter 3
We waited until midnight.
It was Adrian's idea.
I hated admitting it was a good one.
The old chapel sat in the eastern wing of the palace, beyond rooms no longer used by the royal family.
Adrian carried a lantern.
I carried the key.
Two trusted guards waited outside the corridor.
No one else knew where we were going.
At least, that was the plan.
"You walk loudly," I whispered.
Adrian looked offended.
"I'm wearing boots."
"So are assassins."
"You've met many?"
"More than princes."
He glanced at me.
"You really were raised in a marsh."
"I was raised by a woman your court failed to kill."
That ended the conversation.
We reached the chapel.
Dust covered the pews.
Moonlight fell through colored glass.
At the altar, Adrian stopped.
"My father said beneath the chapel."
I looked around.
"No obvious door."
"Excellent observation."
I glared at him.
"You were kinder when you were frightened of my seal."
"I was never frightened."
"You looked ready to faint."
"I was surprised."
"You dropped your goblet."
"That was Harrow."
Right.
I hated that I almost smiled.
We searched separately.
The old stone walls revealed nothing.
Then I noticed an engraving beneath a kneeling bench.
A bird.
Wings spread.
Crown above.
Sword below.
The First Crown.
"Adrian."
He came over.
I moved the bench.
Beneath it was a small iron plate.
No keyhole.
Adrian crouched.
"Maybe the emblem."
I removed the seal from my bodice.
Its back had a raised ridge I had never noticed.
I pressed it into the plate.
A click sounded.
Part of the altar shifted.
I stared.
"You knew?"
Adrian shook his head.
"Apparently my ancestors enjoyed theatrical architecture."
We pushed the stone panel aside.
A narrow stairway descended into darkness.
I swallowed.
Adrian noticed.
"Afraid?"
"Of underground rooms?"
"Of what we'll find."
I looked at him.
"Yes."
He nodded.
"Me too."
It was the first honest thing he had said to me.
We descended.
At the bottom stood a black iron door.
This one had a keyhole.
My hand shook as I inserted the key.
It turned smoothly.
The door opened.
Inside were shelves.
Boxes.
Leather-bound books.
Weapons wrapped in cloth.
A table stood in the center.
And on it was an envelope.
ELARA.
My heart stopped.
Adrian saw it.
"Your name."
I approached slowly.
The handwriting was my mother's.
I opened it.
My hands trembled.
Elara,
If you are reading this, you stood before the royal court and chose not to run.
I closed my eyes.
Of course she had planned everything.
I continued.
Trust the king only with truth.
Trust the prince only after he earns it.
Trust no councilor.
Especially Harrow.
Adrian leaned closer.
"Charming."
"She knows you."
"She doesn't."
I read on.
The vault contains copies, not originals.
The originals are hidden elsewhere.
If the copies remain, then Harrow never found this place.
Begin with the red ledger.
I looked around.
A red leather book rested on the highest shelf.
Adrian retrieved it.
We opened it together.
Names.
Payments.
Dates.
Court offices.
Military officers.
Judges.
Nobles.
Harrow's network.
Adrian's face lost color.
"This is impossible."
"Why?"
"General Corwin."
He pointed.
"Commander of the western army."
Another name.
"Lord Estevan."
His voice became quieter.
"Head of royal finance."
The conspiracy wasn't half the council.
It might be half the kingdom.
Then I found my father's name.
Tomas Vale.
Beside it was a date.
Three days before his death.
Below that:
REFUSED.
Then another entry.
REMOVAL AUTHORIZED.
My vision blurred.
I gripped the table.
Adrian read it.
He went silent.
"That's him," I whispered.
"Elara."
"That's my father."
I touched the words.
"They killed him because he refused."
A tear struck the page.
I hated it.
I wiped my face angrily.
Adrian didn't speak.
For once, he didn't offer sarcasm.
I turned the page.
Helena Vale appeared next.
Beside her name:
FIRST CROWN.
INVESTIGATION COMPROMISED.
SEAL UNRECOVERED.
EXILE ACCEPTABLE.
I felt sick.
My mother survived because Harrow thought exile would destroy her.
He underestimated her.
A noise came from the stairs.
Adrian extinguished the lantern.
Darkness swallowed us.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Someone was coming down.
Adrian grabbed my wrist and pulled me behind one of the shelves.
I nearly protested.
Then a faint light appeared beneath the doorway.
Someone tried the iron handle.
Locked.
A man's voice whispered.
"Someone's been here."
Another replied, "The altar was open."
My blood ran cold.
We had been followed.
Adrian leaned close to my ear.
"Stay."
I almost laughed.
As if.
The door shook.
Once.
Twice.
Then metal scraped.
They were picking the lock.
I felt along the shelf until my fingers touched something cold.
A short ceremonial sword.
Not ideal.
Better than nothing.
Adrian felt the movement.
He whispered, "Can you use that?"
"My mother raised me."
That answered him.
The lock clicked.
The door opened.
Two men entered.
Masked.
The first carried a blade.
The second carried a crossbow.
Adrian stepped from the shadows.
"Drop them."
The men froze.
The crossbowman fired.
I moved before thinking.
I shoved Adrian aside.
The bolt struck the shelf.
He hit the floor.
The swordsman rushed me.
I turned.
Blocked.
Pain rattled through my arms.
He expected a frightened noblewoman.
He didn't get one.
I stepped inside his second strike and drove my shoulder into his chest.
He stumbled.
Adrian tackled the crossbowman.
The vault erupted into chaos.
Metal struck stone.
A box crashed.
The swordsman swung again.
I ducked.
My skirts tangled around my ankles.
I cursed my dress.
He grabbed my hair.
I twisted and struck his wrist with the pommel.
He released me.
I drove my knee into his stomach.
He fell.
Adrian pinned the other man against the wall.
"Who sent you?"
The attacker laughed.
Then bit down.
Adrian's eyes widened.
The man's body went limp.
"Poison," I whispered.
The swordsman heard.
Before I could reach him, he did the same.
Seconds later, both were dead.
I stared.
Adrian swore.
"Wonderful."
"You say that often when things are terrible."
"It's a royal skill."
I crouched beside the first man.
Nothing recognizable.
No insignia.
Then I saw black ink on his wrist.
A tiny hawk.
Adrian's expression changed.
"What?"
He stared.
"Harrow's private guard."
My pulse jumped.
"Then we have proof."
"No."
"What do you mean no?"
"Dead men with tattoos prove very little."
I hated that he was right.
We returned to the red ledger.
I found a folded document inside the back cover.
A list.
At the top were three words.
SUCCESSION CONTINGENCY PLAN.
Adrian came beside me.
We read.
King Aldric — removal when necessary.
Prince Adrian — controlled succession.
Future queen — approved bloodline required.
I looked at him.
"Approved by whom?"
He didn't answer.
Below it were women's names.
Lady Eveline Harrow.
Two daughters of council allies.
Several others.
Not mine.
Then, near the bottom, a note.
IF ADRIAN RESISTS, REPLACE.
Adrian went still.
"Replace with who?"
I turned the page.
There was only one name.
Prince Lucien.
I frowned.
"Who's Lucien?"
Adrian stared at the paper.
His face looked empty.
"My brother."
I had never heard of another prince.
Adrian swallowed.
"He died seventeen years ago."
The sound came again.
Not from the stairs.
From behind us.
A slow clap.
Adrian and I turned.
A stone panel in the back wall stood open.
Duke Harrow stepped into the vault.
Three armed men followed him.
He smiled at us.
"At last."
May you like
His eyes rested on the ledger.
"You found what I needed."
