THE CHASE BENEATH THE CASTLE
612 Words
CHAPTER 8
Darius knew something was wrong the moment the guards lied to him.
“She’s in her chambers, Your Highness,” said one, shifting uncomfortably outside Arabelle’s door. “She requested not to be disturbed.”
Darius narrowed his eyes. “Did she also request that you lie to me?”
The guard stiffened. “I—I beg your pardon, sir?”
“I know Arabelle. She doesn’t hide behind locked doors unless she’s planning something reckless. And right now, she’s not in that room, is she?”
The guard opened his mouth, then closed it.
Darius didn’t wait for permission. He pushed the door open himself.
The room was dark. Empty. Untouched since late afternoon.
And the window was slightly ajar.
His stomach twisted.
He paced the room once. Then saw it — just the edge of parchment sticking out from beneath a candleholder. A map. Poorly hidden. Definitely intentional.
He snatched it up.
At the bottom: a faded corridor marked beneath the palace library.
The same cursed “X” she’d been staring at during breakfast.
“You i***t,” he muttered under his breath — though whether he meant Arabelle or himself, he wasn’t sure.
He didn’t hesitate.
He grabbed a cloak, laced a dagger into his belt, and slipped out through the east hallway. If she thought she could play secret heroine without backup, she was about to be proven very wrong.
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Beneath the Palace
The old tunnel door groaned as Darius pushed it open — ancient stone grinding against stone.
He entered slowly, every step lit by the small lantern he’d borrowed from a storage room. The air was thick with damp earth, mildew, and secrets.
He followed the map, counting left turns and narrow passages.
Then… voices.
Faint.
Echoing.
He doused the lantern and pressed forward, silent as a cat.
Then he saw her.
Arabelle.
Cloaked and crouched behind a crumbling pillar, peering through a sliver in the stone into a candlelit chamber beyond.
He crept beside her without a sound.
“Tell me what you see,” he whispered.
She jumped, nearly hitting his chin with her elbow.
“Darius?!”
“Missed me already, didn’t you?”
She glared, whisper-shouting, “Are you insane?! I told you not to follow me—”
“You didn’t tell me anything. You just vanished and left behind a map with a giant red ‘X’. Honestly, you’re lucky I’m the only one who found it.”
She opened her mouth to argue—then closed it. “Fine. Since you’re here… look.”
They both turned toward the slit in the stone.
Inside the hidden chamber sat three figures around a table.
One wore the black wolf insignia on his chest.
Another wore a palace ring — a royal advisor.
The third…
Darius’s eyes went cold. “Harland.”
Arabelle’s mouth tightened.
“He’s the one orchestrating it all,” she whispered. “He wants to end the alliance. Blame Westmoor for a staged attack. Collapse the talks. Start a war.”
“Why?”
“Because war keeps the old houses rich. Keeps him powerful.”
As they watched, Harland passed a scroll across the table.
“Tomorrow,” he said, his voice carrying just enough, “at the council session. We expose the prince. Plant forged letters. Accuse him of espionage. Once he’s arrested, the treaty collapses. Elvaria stands alone. As it should.”
Darius stared.
Arabelle barely breathed.
But then — her foot shifted. A small stone clattered down the wall.
Every head inside the room snapped toward the sound.
Harland stood.
“We’re not alone.”
To be continued....
- Writer
