To cap off the day's spiral into indignity, my legs gave out completely. And Orien ended up carrying me to a shaded rest alcove. I'd love to pretend it was a composed retreat, but the flurry of whispers and barely-suppressed giggles from the nearby knights it painfully clear that wasn't the case. I now understood that yesterday's look of sympathy was due to the embarrassment I would make of myself.
"I must have the authority to execute people," I muttered bitterly, sipping from a cup of water like it was fine wine and not slightly warm disappointment.
"I-I-I'm s-so sorry, m-my lord!" Ella squeaked. "P-please forgive me for my i-insolence! I have a family! I don't w-want to die!"
She threw herself to the ground in full prostration, trembling like a leaf in a storm.
"I wasn't talking about you, Ella. Calm down," I said, drained. My voice barely had the strength to carry the words, but it didn't matter. She kept trembling, face pressed to the ground, still begging for her life like I'd pulled out a blade.
"Ella," I said more firmly, pinching the bridge of my nose. "The only thing that might get you executed is this continued behavior."
That did the trick. Her shaking slowed just enough to suggest she might be reprocessing the situation. Apparently, threats landed better than reassurance. Wonderful.
Maybe I should request a new servant. But then again, what servant wouldn't already have heard the horror stories? It felt like everyone in this blasted palace knew who I was.
"Come. I'm starving, and I intend to bathe." I'd been yanked from bed and thrown straight into training without so much as a crust of bread, and now that my stamina had returned, so had the gnawing hunger in my gut.
"Y-yes, Highness!" Ella hurried behind me as we made our way back to my chambers.
"Ella," I said, not even trying to keep the hope out of my voice, "did they mention when my studies will take place?"
"This afternoon, Highness," she replied, a little more confidently. "You'll have physical training five days a week, and studies every day."
And just like that, I discovered my resolve to overthrow the king on charges of cruelty.
We walked in silence, our footsteps muffled against the long carpeted halls. Normally, the palace buzzed with activity, servants moving briskly and distant conversations drifting through the corridors. But now, it was eerily still. The only sound was the occasional creak of old stone settling, and even that seemed too loud in the hush.
The sconces along the walls flickered faintly, casting pale light across the polished floors and high archways. The further we went, the more the silence seemed to press in on me, thick and watchful. I tried to shake the unease crawling up the back of my neck, but it lingered.
I was halfway to the door of my chambers when the first shadow moved.
A blur in the periphery, fast and quiet. My body turned before my mind caught up, but I wasn't fast enough. The glint of a blade caught the light, and then there was pain.
It wasn't sharp at first. More like pressure, then heat. I stumbled back, hand instinctively going to my side. It came away wet.
Ella screamed.
Three figures emerged from the shadows, faces hidden behind smooth, expressionless masks. Pale ivory, with no markings. Not even eye slits. They moved in silence, their footsteps soundless against the floor.
Each was draped in a mantle of shadow, a living fabric that clung and shifted, never still. The darkness didn't flutter like cloth; it pulsed with breath, twisting into slow spirals that curled across the floor before fading into nothing. One raised a dagger, its blade dark with fresh blood. The shadow coiled around their wrist, guiding the strike like a second will.
One of them surged forward, too fast to track. The hallway seemed to bend with the motion, shadows stretching like claws toward me. I knew there was no dodging, my body wasn't responding fast enough. I gritted my teeth in preparation for the blow.
But Ella slammed into me from the side, knocking the air from my lungs. We crashed to the floor, her body sprawled half across mine. A whisper of steel followed, too fast to react. The blade barely caught her, sliding across her back like a breath of wind.
Blood splattered onto the marble. She gasped.
"R-Run, Your Highness," she murmured, her voice paper-thin as she curled protectively around me.
The idiot. Brave, loyal… but utterly foolish. I wouldn't make it three steps. They were too fast, too silent. The dread clawed up my spine as I looked into her pale face, her eyes squeezed shut, trying to brace for a blow that hadn't yet come.
The masked assassin who struck her tilted its head slowly, unnervingly. The blank ivory face caught a flicker of torchlight. Still silent. Still death incarnate.
Then, pressure. A burning tension built between my eyes, sharp and suffocating, as if the world was squeezing in on that single point in my skull.
And I pushed.
It was instinctive, like flexing a muscle I hadn't known was there. A silent force burst outward from me, wild and desperate, aimed at the three cloaked figures. They flinched.
My mind seized on it immediately. This was my birthright.
I locked onto them. That force surged again, and I gripped. Not their bodies, but something underneath, something closer to the soul.
But the victory was short-lived.
I strained, pouring everything I had into the force gripping them—but they pushed through it. Like walking through water. Slowed, but not stopped. I was weak. I'd always known it, but with death closing in, it hit me like a confession.
I forced myself upright. Every movement screamed. My limbs were heavy, trembling from strain and pain. Blood dripped steadily down my side, the pull of my birthright worsening the wound with every heartbeat.
No plan. No backup. Just panic and instinct.
An idea surfaced, half-formed and reckless. As the nearest assassin lunged, I dropped the pressure and twisted away. The blade missed, just barely. But my relief died the instant I saw the second attacker closing in from behind.
No time to dodge.
I stepped into the strike.
The dagger punched into my stomach, white-hot. I gritted my teeth and surged forward, grabbing for the thing's throat.
My hand slipped through smoke.
I didn't hesitate. With a snarl, I kept going and snapped my head forward in a brutal arc.
My forehead crashed into the assassin's mask. This time, it hit.
Stars burst behind my eyes. I staggered, dizzy, but so did they. The attacker reeled, stepping back as a hairline fracture split across the smooth ivory surface. One breath passed.
The mask shattered.
With a sound like cracking glass, the shadow peeled away, dissolving into mist. A naked man stood blinking beneath it, eyes wide with shock.
Then the third assassin stepped forward and, without hesitation, sliced his head clean off.
The shadows swarmed the head like flies. Consumed it.
And something inside me screamed to remember that face.
A breathless stillness settled over the corridor.
The two remaining assassins stood motionless, masks tilted toward me. Even their cloaks of shadow had stilled, no longer pulsing or writhing. They watched, waiting. Calculating.
I couldn't match their speed, not truly. But their cloaks had been moving before. Now, their stillness gave them away. Subtle shifts. The quiet before the strike.
I saw one lean, the faintest twitch toward my right. Toward Ella.
No time to think.
I threw myself over her just as they lunged.
It was the right move, but not for the reason I expected. The feint had been a trap, bait meant to draw me into a fatal line. If I had dodged, I would've taken a blade straight through my skull.
Instead, the assassin's dagger buried itself in my shoulder.
Pain exploded, but there was no time to scream. The second assassin was already closing in again, blade flashing—
And then they were gone.
Slammed against the palace wall hard enough to crack stone. The mask shattered mid-air, shadows unraveling as the body collapsed in a heap, bare and broken.
The one who had stabbed me stood frozen. No sound. No movement. Just the headless corpse suddenly upright… until it slumped.
Next to it stood Lord Orien Thalvane, radiating quiet violence. His armor hummed faintly, crystalline plates still catching the light. He said something, low and urgent, but I couldn't make out the words.
A deafening pop cracked through the air.
My vision flipped sideways. The hallway spun in wild, nauseating loops. I hit the floor hard, choking, the taste of iron filling my mouth.
Then everything went black.