Chapter 3 The Prince Without a Mask
865 Words
Rain poured from the heavens.
Lightning flashed across the royal gardens, illuminating Prince Cedric as he stood beside the black carriage.
For years, Seraphina had imagined what her future husband truly thought of her.
Whether there was kindness beneath the coldness. Whether duty simply made him distant. Whether one day he might learn to love her.
Standing in the storm, she finally had her answer.
There was nothing beneath the mask.
Nothing except ambition.
Cedric adjusted his gloves calmly as if they were meeting for tea rather than in the middle of a palace coup.
"Hello, Seraphina."
The familiar voice felt foreign now.
The assassins emerged behind her.
Blocking every path back to the palace.
Elara moved closer to Seraphina's side.
Fear radiated from her friend.
Seraphina felt strangely calm.
Dangerously calm.
Because something had clicked into place.
All the pieces.
The missing guards. The strange route assignments. The disappearances within the archives. The officials suddenly transferred after speaking to her.
Cedric had known.
For months.
Maybe longer.
"You tried to kill me."
The prince smiled faintly.
"No."
His gaze flicked briefly toward the assassins.
"I tried to capture you."
"That's supposed to make me feel better?"
"It should."
The confidence in his voice sent a chill down her spine.
Cedric genuinely believed he was being reasonable.
The realization was horrifying.
Lightning split the sky overhead.
For a brief second his face became starkly visible.
Beautiful.
Perfect.
Empty.
"You've been investigating things that don't concern you," Cedric said.
"There it is."
The smile vanished.
"There what is?"
"The truth."
Seraphina stepped forward despite Elara's whispered protest.
"This isn't about my safety."
"No."
"This is about the archives."
Cedric said nothing.
That silence confirmed everything.
Her stomach tightened.
Months of research.
Months of hidden documents.
Months of discovering that the kingdom's official history had been fabricated.
She had been right.
Every bit of it.
"You found out what I was doing."
Cedric's expression hardened.
"You found things that should have remained buried."
The words echoed through the storm.
Seraphina suddenly felt very cold.
Not because of the rain.
Because she understood what kind of secret required this level of violence.
What kind of truth demanded assassins.
"What happened during the Rogue Wars?"
For the first time, genuine irritation crossed Cedric's face.
"You don't understand enough to ask that question."
"Then explain it."
"No."
The answer came instantly.
Final.
Absolute.
Because whatever truth existed was too dangerous to share.
Or too damaging.
The prince took a step closer.
"Come with me willingly."
Seraphina laughed.
A short, disbelieving sound.
"You attacked the palace."
"You forced my hand."
That sentence stunned her.
Not because of what it meant.
Because he believed it.
Cedric honestly believed she was responsible for his actions.
The logic of a tyrant.
The logic of a man who never heard the word no.
"I loved you once."
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Cedric froze.
Just for a moment.
Then his expression softened into something almost regretful.
Almost.
"If that's true," he said quietly, "then you'll understand why this is necessary."
Something inside Seraphina broke.
Not dramatically.
Not loudly.
Just a small final thing.
The last fragile hope that there had ever been goodness in him.
Gone.
Dead.
She looked at the man she was supposed to marry.
The man she'd spent years trying to understand.
And realized she had never known him at all.
"Necessary for what?"
Cedric's eyes darkened.
"For the future."
The answer meant nothing.
And everything.
A future built on lies.
A future built on buried history.
A future that apparently required a princess in chains.
One of the assassins stepped forward.
Enough.
The conversation was over.
The trap was closing.
Elara grabbed Seraphina's hand.
"Run."
Cedric sighed.
Almost sadly.
"Don't."
The prince raised his hand.
The assassins moved.
Seraphina reacted instantly.
The dagger hidden in her sleeve flashed through the rain.
One assassin screamed.
The blade buried itself in his shoulder.
Not fatal.
But enough.
Chaos erupted.
"Go!" Seraphina shouted.
She shoved Elara toward the hedge maze bordering the gardens.
The two women sprinted.
Boots splashing through mud.
Branches tearing at their clothes.
Behind them, voices erupted.
Pursuit.
The assassins were coming.
The maze swallowed them whole.
Dark stone walls rose on every side.
Rain hammered the narrow pathways.
Left.
Right.
Another turn.
Seraphina dragged Elara deeper into the twisting labyrinth.
The princess knew these gardens.
Had played here as a child.
Had hidden here.
Had explored every corner.
The assassins hadn't.
That was their advantage.
For now.
A shout echoed somewhere behind them.
Closer.
Too close.
Elara stumbled.
Seraphina caught her before she fell.
Then she saw it.
The old gate.
Half-hidden behind ivy.
Locked.
Forgotten.
Leading beyond the palace grounds.
Hope surged through her chest.
"We can get out."
The words had barely left her mouth when a voice spoke behind them.
Cold.
Amused.
Dangerously close.
"I'm afraid you can't."
Seraphina turned.
The masked assassin stood at the entrance to the pathway.
Alone.
Rain dripping from black leather.
Sword in hand.
Watching them.
Waiting.
Not rushing.
Not worried.
Like he already knew how this ended.
And for the first time all night...
Seraphina felt fear.
- Writer
