Chapter 4 Narrow Escape

I was still awake past midnight in the Concubines' Quarters, the scent of incense unable to soothe my racing brain. The velvet drapes sighed in a light draft, and a single lantern burned dimly near the door. After seeing that cloaked figure in the courtyard, sleeping felt impossible. It was too tense like there was a warning bell ringing somewhere inside of me that any minute would be the last one without catastrophe.

A soft scraping sound suddenly disrupted the hush. My pulse quickened. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something dark sweep behind the curtains. A chill coursed through my veins. My instincts cried out that I wasn't alone, that the assassin had found me.

I got up cautiously, barefoot on the thick carpet, looking into the gloom. My heart pounded and echoed in my ears. And then a swift movement lunged toward me, the steel catching a stray strand of lantern light. I gasped, backing away, arms flailing as I sought balance. Then terror cut through me as a blade sliced the air and missed my arm by inches.

The bright glare of a lantern-lit the chamber. Wren stormed in, face tight with alarm, holding that lantern like a weapon. "Lois!" she cried, her voice hoarse with urgency. The intruder, snarling beneath a dark hood, was startled by her sudden presence. The figure turned, cutting off Wren's approach with deadly elegance.

Throwing the lantern forward and startling the assassin. Glass smashed, and flames licked at the rug. Thick smoke curled upward. In that beat of chaos, I saw the opportunity to duck beneath the blade's reach. I jumped aside and seized the heaviest object I could find, a bronze candlestick, which I swung with all my might. My attacker swept aside, and the motion opened a path for Wren to slip in behind them.

For an instant, we met the eye of the assassin, who manifested no fear, no mercy. Then, a rush of movement: they raced by us, melded into shadow, flowing through the half-open doors that led deeper into the long hallways. My lungs screamed, adrenaline racing. Wren coughed through the smoke, looking back at me.

"Are you hurt?" she said in between ragged breaths.

I shook my head, but my hands were still shaking. Where the oil poured from her lantern caught fire, little sparks glimmered though Wren stomped out the small conflagration. I looked around, shaken for any clue. Something dark near the threshold caught my eye. As I bent down, I noticed just one black feather resting on the charred rug.

My stomach churned. There were legends of mercenaries who left behind feathers, a macabre calling card, evidence of powerful hands that had need of them. I gripped it tightly, breath coming unevenly, certain that Steve had ordered this. The last shred of naive hope crumbled, leaving in its place stark certainty that now I was being hunted in my own palace.

I held tight to the black feather, my heart still doing the disjointed thump of being caught off guard by the assassin's rapid exit. Wren led me to a nearby chaise and ordered me to sit before shock buckled my legs. Her lantern had been smashed in the scuffle, so the only illumination of her worried expression was moonlight streaming through the high windows. She knelt down next to me and put a hand on my arm.

"Lois, we need to speak," she whispered, her voice shaking. "I noticed that assassin several hours ago, hanging out near Steve's guard. I warned you, but the corridors were crawling with soldiers."

My heart thundered at her admission. "You saw them close to Steve's men?"

She nodded, her expression full of regret. "They remained in the shadows, waiting as the guards talked like they were there waiting for orders. By the time I understood their intentions, it was too late for me to come to you in secrecy."

The realization hit me like a bucket of cold water. "So he might have done this." My voice scraped out raw. "Steve ordered them to kill me, or he wanted to see if I was loyal. Both are vile."

Wren's eyes sparkled with tears, but she kept her composure. "You survived, and that is the important thing. We can't let him destroy you. Not after all that you went through."

I had to swallow a hard lump in my throat, thoughts pummeling me with betrayal. Once, I'd thought Steve cared about Valtara's future as much as I did. Now, apparently, he'd hired a mercenary to make sure I'd never regain power. My rage stoked heartache, galvanizing grim resolve deep within.

A noise beneath the bed interrupted our dark reflections. Wren stiffened, raising the broken candlestick we'd used in the fray. We took a cautious approach together. Something swished, and I held my breath, picturing the assassin back, injured or biding time.

I squatted and slid my hand under the bed. My fingers grazed parchment. Relief battled a new alarm. I pulled out a small envelope, sealed with unknown wax. It felt thick, with several pages inside. The surface bore cryptic symbols, coils of twisted lines that could not be readily fathomed.

Wren's eyes widened. "What is that?"

I shook my head, too dazed to answer right away. Someone had concealed crucial evidence right here. The design of the seal was something I didn't recognize from official palace documents. A swirl of dread coursed through me, fearing it might lead to answers regarding this conspiracy.

"We probably should open it," Wren said, her voice tight.

I exhaled shakily, nodding. The chamber still reeked of smoke and fear, but a new riddle now glowed in my hands, promising secrets about the ones who wanted to end my life. The day would break soon, but a sinister tension predicted that my hours were numbered.

Wren and I withdrew to a hidden antechamber, where a single torch flickered over dark wood walls. We moved in a way that felt deliberate, mindful, and aware of the soldiers and the gazes beyond these rooms. I shut the heavy door behind us, feeling my heart speed up at the thought of cracking the envelope we had found. I needed every shred of it before time ran out-if it had the proof of who had brought me down.

We laid the pages out on a beaten table, the arcane symbols mocking us in the hesitant light. Soot still clung to my gown, a reminder of how close I'd come to a deadly finish tonight. Clearing my lingering terror, I regulated my breath, willing myself to calm myself to think. Wren held the torch at an angle so its beam broke over the page and read the script with keen curiosity.

"Maddox Creed," I said quietly, remembering the whirl of speculation connecting him to Steve's sudden takeover. He'd been an advisor, mentoring me through political theory. But the letter suggested something more: mentions of trade deals, shipments arriving at suspiciously convenient times and names in code. My stomach knotted.

Wren ran a finger over a stylized crest sketched at the bottom. "I see pieces of this crest." Maddox's family line uses a phoenix motif. Several of these lines echo that design." She hesitated, looking up at me. "Could he have betrayed you?"

I wanted to reject it outright, to declare no mentor of mine would be complicit in a treacherous scheme. But the words and symbols strongly hinted at shady dealings. I wondered if Maddox was to blame for the ruse, thinking Valtara's safety should trump my sitting on the throne. Grief fought with anger, unsettling my equanimity.

We decoded snippets of government catchphrases. Several lines included urgent deadlines: "Remove her by dawn," read one haunting order. I froze all over, from my limbs to my hair. Dawn loomed a couple of hours away, the horizon bound to pale soon. With each thump of my heart, the gravity of that threat magnified.

Wren exhaled, voice wavering. "If they really intend to hit before sunrise, we need to go quickly."

I nodded, adrenaline still pumping despite my fatigue. "We can't fight blindly. We have to see if Steve and Maddox are in this together or if one of them is using the other,"

In a moment of shared resolve, her hand sought for mine. We could find few allies, but knowledge was our weapon now. My mentor's cryptic letter said more than enough for me to suspect a conspiracy of unprecedented ramifications. I feared the fury welling up inside me that demanded I survive at any cost.

A shrill ache pushed back behind my eyes. The last line glimmered in my mind like a flash of a siren: "Kill the queen before the next dawn." I slowly swallowed the terror that was choking me. Without the truth, I might see the sun rise over my corpse tonight.