Chapter 7 - The Reckoning of the Crown
The nobles scattered like rats before a rising tide.
Some tried to run for the main terrace doors, only to find them blocked by silent, unyielding figures in ancient mail. Others collapsed onto the Persian carpets, weeping and praying to gods who had long since abandoned the royal house of Veyne.
Master Vane tried to slip away through the servants’ archway on the side of the dais, his velvet cloak pulled tight around his thin shoulders.
“Don’t let him move,” Elara said sharply.
Two skeletal figures in tarnished silver armor lunged forward with terrifying speed, grabbing Vane by the shoulders and slamming him face-first onto the banquet table among the shattered crystal and roasted fowl. The physician let out a high-pitched, feminine squeal of absolute terror as a cold iron dagger was pressed against the soft skin of his neck.
King Cassian stood alone on the raised dais now, his golden crown sliding further down his forehead as he backed away until his spine hit the carved wooden back of the royal throne.
“Guards!” Cassian screamed, his voice cracking with hysteria. “Where are the guards?!”
“Your guards are currently welcoming their ancestors,” a cool, smooth voice replied from the doorway.
Princess Aurelia walked into the hall. She had changed out of her blood-stained bridal gown into a simple velvet traveling dress provided by the kitchens, her copper hair falling loosely around her shoulders. She looked pale, but her eyes were steady, sharp, and entirely devoid of fear.
“Aurelia?!” Cassian gasped, staring at her as if she were a ghost—which, technically, she half-was. “You… Vane gave you the draught! You were supposed to be locked away!”
“Vane is thorough, I’ll give him that,” Aurelia said, stepping up the dais stairs until she stood just six feet from the trembling king. “He measured the dose down to the milligram. Enough to stop my heart for twelve hours, enough to convince the high council that I had peacefully expired in my sleep. But he made one fatal mistake.”
She glanced back toward Elara, who stood near the entrance with the broadsword resting casually across her shoulder.
“He didn't check who was on cemetery duty,” Aurelia finished, her gaze returning to Cassian with a look of lethal calm. “He forgot that the daughter of an executioner knows the difference between a corpse and a prisoner.”
Cassian swallowed hard, his eyes darting wildly toward the heavy golden sceptre resting on the armrest of the throne. His hand twitched toward it.
“Don’t,” Aurelia warned softly, her hand resting on the hilt of a small dagger she had tucked into her belt. “You’ve ruled long enough on stolen breath, Uncle. The bells have been ringing down there for three hundred years. It’s time to answer them.”
May you like
The ancient queen—the first Aurelia—stepped up beside her modern descendant, placing a dry, skeletal hand on the young princess’s shoulder. The contrast between the two women was stark, yet their eyes held the exact same fire.
“The throne does not belong to a murderer,” the ancient voice echoed through the hall, vibrating in the chests of everyone present. “The bloodline is cleansed. The debt is paid.”
