RUN LIKE ROYALS DON'T
530 Words
CHAPTER 9
We’re not alone.”
The words echoed like a dagger thrown in the dark.
Arabelle’s breath hitched.
Darius didn’t wait. He grabbed her wrist. “Move.”
They spun away from the stone slit, their boots barely making a sound as they raced back into the narrow passage. Behind them, angry shouts and the thundering of chairs crashing back echoed through the underground chamber.
“They’re coming,” Arabelle gasped.
“Then let’s give them something to chase.”
They turned left, then another left — retracing the path they’d memorized from the map. The tunnels twisted like a snake’s spine, old and uneven. Cobwebs brushed past them. Muffled curses grew louder behind.
Darius yanked her down a side tunnel. “There’s a ladder to the servant wing access. If we make it, we can disappear before they reach the surface.”
“Unless they catch us first.”
He glanced back, his grip still tight on her hand. “Would you stop sounding so optimistic?”
Another corner. Another stairwell.
Arabelle’s cloak snagged on a jagged stone. She hissed and tore it free.
Boots clanged behind them. Torchlight flickered.
“Split up,” she said suddenly, breath sharp. “They’ll expect us to run together.”
“No,” Darius snapped. “That’s a stupid plan.”
“It’s a smart one—”
“I just found you. You think I’m letting you vanish alone down a murder tunnel?”
Their eyes met in the dark.
Arabelle’s chest rose and fell. “Fine. But next time I say something smart, try listening before we both die.”
“I’ll think about it,” he muttered, dragging her toward the hidden ladder tucked behind a broken support beam.
They climbed fast — one after the other, dust raining down with every movement.
“Once we’re out,” Darius said between breaths, “we tell your father. We bring this to the council before Harland does.”
“And if we don’t make it to the council?”
He glanced down. “We will.”
They reached the trapdoor. Arabelle pushed against it. It didn’t budge.
“No, no—don’t you dare—”
Darius shoved her aside gently. Then rammed his shoulder into the wood.
Crack.
The panel split just enough for moonlight to shine through. He shoved it open, then helped her out onto the cold stone floor of the old laundry cellar.
The door slammed shut behind them.
Silence.
Only their breathing filled the air.
Arabelle collapsed against the wall, heart pounding like war drums.
Darius leaned beside her, wiping dust from his brow. “You okay?”
She nodded. “You?”
He smirked. “Still handsome, still alive.”
Arabelle looked at him, eyes wide with adrenaline, fear, and something else she wouldn’t name.
“You really shouldn’t have followed me,” she said softly.
He didn’t break eye contact. “And you really shouldn’t have gone alone.”
They stood there for a long second — longer than a second should feel.
Then footsteps echoed down the hall above.
They both straightened.
This wasn’t over.
Not even close.
To be continued....
- Writer
