The Banished Heiress

The Coronation Ball

CLARA'S POINT OF VIEW

The golden light of the Sun Stone still hummed under my skin, warm and intoxicating.

Around us, thousands of nobles and citizens remained flat on their faces in the dirt. But my eyes were locked on Valerius. His hand moved from my face down to my waist, pulling me close until the hard plates of his chest armor pressed against my velvet gown.

Rise, people of Solaria! I commanded, my voice echoing off the high marble walls with a power that surprised even me.

Slowly, the crowd began to stand. Lord Malakor scrambled up from the marble steps, his face pale and contorted with humiliation. He clutched his cane, his grey eyes flashing with venomous hatred as he slunk back into the shadows of the High Council balcony.

We must prepare the Coronation Ball immediately! the Chief Priest announced, bowing low to me. The city must celebrate the return of the true heir!

Valerius did not let go of my hand as we walked back through the palace doors. He led me away from the cheering crowds, guiding me up the private stairs toward the royal quarters.

You handled Malakor well, Valerius murmured, his golden eyes scanning the high stone archways above us for hidden guards. But a cornered rat is always the most dangerous.

He thinks he can still stop me, I said, leaning my shoulder against his arm as we walked.

He knows he is running out of time, Valerius corrected, his thumb rubbing small, possessive circles over my knuckles. Once the crown touches your head at midnight tomorrow, you hold absolute authority to execute traitors. He will strike before then.

He stopped outside my private chamber doors, turning to face me completely. The hallway torches threw warm shadows across his sharp jawline and dark hair.

Rest, Clara, he whispered softly, his fingers gently lifting my chin until my eyes met his. I have double-guard rotations on your door tonight. No one enters without my personal command.

Are you staying? I asked, my voice barely above a breath.

A dark, dangerous smile touched his lips. His head dipped down, his warm mouth brushing against the sensitive skin right beneath my jaw, making a sharp gasp escape my lips.

I will be right outside your door, little Princess, he growled softly against my neck. Guarding what belongs to me.

Three hours later, the palace was transformed.

The Grand Ballroom was bathed in golden candlelight, filled with music, flowing wine, and hundreds of glittering aristocrats. I stood at the top of the grand staircase, dressed in a sweeping gown of silver silk that clung to my waist before flowing down to the floor. Around my neck sat a delicate diamond choker, hiding the raw marks left by the iron collar.

Beside me stood Valerius, looking towering and lethal in a tailored black velvet coat lined with silver embroidery, his sword strapped to his hip.

Look at how they smile at you now, Valerius muttered close to my ear as we walked down the stairs together. The same nobles who would have stepped on your head in the scullery three days ago.

They don't care about me, I whispered back, holding his arm tight. They only care about power.

Then give them none, he replied.

A young maid approached us carrying a silver tray with two crystal glasses of dark red wine. She bowed her head low, her hands trembling slightly as she offered the glasses to us.

A toast to the Princess, the maid squeaked out, her voice high and nervous.

Valerius reached for a glass, but before his fingers touched the crystal, his nostrils flared sharp and hard. He grabbed the maid's wrist in an iron grip.

Where did this bottle come from? Valerius demanded, his voice dropping an octave into a terrifying growl.

The... the main kitchen, my Lord! the maid whimpered, tears springing to her eyes.

Valerius took the glass and tipped a small drop of the red wine onto the silver tray. The moment the liquid hit the metal, it began to hiss and smoke, eating a black hole straight through the silver!

Poison! a noble lady screamed nearby.

The ballroom erupted into chaos. High-born lords and ladies scrambled away, knocking over tables and glass cups as terror swept through the crowd.

Guard the doors! Valerius thundered, shoving me behind his broad back as his broadsword flew from its sheath with a sharp hiss.

Before the royal guards could react, the grand glass windows along the balcony shattered into thousands of flying shards!

Dozens of elite shadow assassins dressed in black leather armor dropped from the ceiling rafters, their curved daggers gleaming in the candlelight.

At the head of the assassins stood Lord Malakor, holding a heavy iron crossbow aimed directly at my heart.

If I cannot rule this empire, Malakor shrieked, his face twisted in psychotic rage, then no one will! Kill the maid!

Shoot! Malakor commanded.

A black iron bolt whistled through the air, heading straight for my chest!