Chronicles Of The Ruthless king

The night King Alaric died, the palace gates were locked from the inside. That was the first thing Olivia noticed. The second was the blood. It ran down the marble steps beneath the eastern balcony, disappearing between the cracks before the palace servants could wash it away. And the third— Someone was screaming. Olivia pressed herself against the cold stone wall, her breath trapped in her chest. “Don’t look,” whispered Mara, the palace maid beside her. But Olivia looked anyway. A royal guard lay motionless near the fountain. Another man was being dragged across the courtyard by two soldiers. Beyond them, the palace windows glowed with firelight, throwing enormous shadows across the walls. Something terrible had happened. And everyone was pretending it hadn’t. “What’s going on?” Olivia whispered. Mara grabbed her wrist. “We need to leave.” “Leave?” “Now.” Mara pulled her toward the servants’ corridor. Olivia resisted. “My father is still inside.” “Your father ordered you to stay away from the palace tonight.” “He didn’t tell me why.” “He didn’t have time.” Olivia stared at her. Mara’s eyes were filled with fear. That frightened Olivia more than the blood. Mara had served the royal household for more than thirty years. She had witnessed births, weddings, funerals and political wars. Olivia had never seen her afraid. “What happened to the king?” Olivia asked. Mara’s lips parted. Before she could answer, a horn sounded. Once. Twice. Three times. The entire palace fell silent. Mara’s grip tightened. “The king is dead.” Olivia’s stomach dropped. King Alaric had been ill for months, but nobody had expected this. “How?” Mara looked toward the palace doors. “Poison.” Olivia’s heart pounded. “Who did it?” “We don’t know.” Another horn sounded. This time, it came from outside the kingdom. Mara’s face drained of color. “Oh God.” “What?” She looked at Olivia. “The eastern army has arrived.” Olivia frowned. “Whose army?” Mara didn’t answer. Then the palace gates opened. Not slowly. They were forced apart. Hundreds of soldiers marched into the courtyard. Their armor was black. Their horses were black. And at the front of them rode a man dressed in a long dark coat. He dismounted without assistance. The soldiers immediately formed two lines. The man walked between them. Olivia could not see his face clearly from where she stood. But she could see the sword at his waist. A royal sword. The sword that had disappeared twenty years ago. Mara whispered one word. “Lucas.” Olivia’s heart skipped. The name was familiar. Everyone in Valoria knew it. Prince Lucas. The king’s only surviving son. The heir who had disappeared after the palace m******e twenty years earlier. The prince who was believed to be dead. But the man walking toward the palace was very much alive. He stopped beneath the balcony. Slowly, he lifted his head. Olivia saw his face. He looked nothing like the portraits she’d seen as a child. Those portraits showed a smiling young prince with soft eyes. This man had no softness left. His dark hair was slightly disordered from the journey. A thin scar crossed one side of his jaw. His eyes were cold. Not angry. Not frightened. Cold. Like he had already decided what every person around him deserved. He looked toward the palace. Then he spoke. “Open the doors.” No one moved. A palace commander stepped forward. “This palace belongs to the royal council.” Lucas looked at him. “No.” The commander swallowed. “It belongs to King Alaric.” Lucas slowly drew his sword. “It belonged to my father.” He raised the blade. “Now it belongs to me.” The soldiers behind him lowered their weapons. The commander stepped back. “Your Highness…” Lucas’s eyes hardened. “Don’t call me prince.” Silence. “I didn’t come back for a title.” He looked toward the palace. “I came back for my throne.” ⸻ By sunrise, the palace had changed hands. The royal council had surrendered. The guards who resisted were imprisoned. The royal banners were removed from the towers. And the black-and-gold banner of House Valorian flew above the palace once again. Olivia stood in her father’s study, staring through the window. “He actually took the throne,” she whispered. Her father said nothing. Lord Adrian stood behind his desk, his face unusually serious. “He didn’t take it.” Olivia turned. “He inherited it.” “No.” Her father walked toward the window. “He reclaimed it.” Olivia frowned. “What’s the difference?” Her father looked at her. “An inheritance is given.” He lowered his voice. “Lucas Valorian has come for revenge.” A knock sounded. Neither moved. Another knock. Then the door opened. A royal guard stepped inside. “Lord Adrian.” Her father straightened. “Yes?” “The new king requests your presence.” Olivia’s father went pale. “When?” “Immediately.” The guard’s eyes shifted toward Olivia. “And he requests that your daughter accompany you.” Olivia’s stomach tightened. “Me?” The guard nodded. “His exact words were: ‘Bring Olivia Adrian.’” Her father looked at her. Something passed between them. Fear. Guilt. And something Olivia couldn’t understand. “What aren’t you telling me?” she asked. Her father looked away. “Nothing.” “You’ve been acting strangely since last night.” “I said nothing.” “Father—” “Olivia.” His voice became sharp. “Whatever happens in the throne room, do not speak unless the king asks you a question.” She stared at him. “Why?” Her father didn’t answer. That was when Olivia realized something. Her father wasn’t afraid of the king. He was afraid of what the king might remember. ⸻ The throne room was packed. Nobles stood along both sides of the enormous hall. The royal council sat beneath the balcony. And at the center of everything sat Lucas. His father’s throne looked different with him in it. Perhaps it was the man sitting there. Lucas leaned back, one hand resting on the armrest. A crown sat on his head. But Olivia noticed something strange. He wasn’t wearing royal robes. He was still dressed like a soldier. Like someone who had come to conquer rather than rule. Her father walked forward. Olivia followed. They stopped several feet from the throne. “Your Majesty.” Lucas looked at her father. “Lord Adrian.” His voice was calm. Too calm. “Twenty years.” Her father’s shoulders stiffened. “Yes, Your Majesty.” Lucas studied him. “That’s how long it has been since we last stood in the same room.” Olivia looked between them. Her father had never told her he knew Lucas. Lucas rose. The room became silent. He walked down the steps. “Do you remember the night my family was betrayed?” Her father’s face tightened. “Your Majesty, I—” “Do you remember?” “Yes.” Lucas stopped. “Good.” He turned toward Olivia. For the first time, his eyes settled fully on her. Olivia felt an unfamiliar chill. He was looking at her as though he was searching for something. “What is your name?” “Olivia Adrian.” Something flickered across his face. It disappeared quickly. “How old are you?” “Twenty-four.” Lucas looked at her father. “Twenty-four.” Her father lowered his eyes. Lucas returned his gaze to Olivia. “You’ve grown.” Olivia froze. Her heart began pounding. “You know me?” Lucas didn’t answer. Instead, he walked past her. He stopped beside her father. “Your daughter was born shortly before my family fell.” Olivia looked at her father. “Why have you never told me?” Her father said nothing. Lucas smiled coldly. “Because some truths are easier to bury than to explain.” Olivia stepped forward. “What truth?” Lucas looked at her. “Your father knows.” “Then ask him.” “I am.” Lucas turned toward Lord Adrian. “Where is the royal ledger?” Her father’s face changed. “I don’t know.” “The ledger that recorded every birth, marriage and succession in the royal family.” “I don’t have it.” “You’re lying.” “No.” Lucas’s voice remained calm. “I gave you one opportunity to tell me where it was.” Her father looked at him. “And if I refuse?” Lucas’s eyes became empty. “Then I take away something you value.” Olivia stepped forward. “Don’t threaten my father.” Lucas looked at her. The entire room went silent. Her father whispered: “Olivia, stop.” But Lucas didn’t seem angry. Instead, there was something almost curious in his expression. “You have courage.” “I have no reason to fear you.” A few nobles exchanged nervous glances. Lucas stepped closer. “You should.” Olivia refused to move. “Why?” He leaned slightly toward her. “Because I’m not the prince you remember from the stories.” “I don’t remember you.” Lucas stared into her eyes. For a moment, neither spoke. Then he said quietly: “You will.” ⸻ That evening, Olivia returned home alone. Her father had not been released. Lucas had ordered him to remain in the palace until the royal investigation was complete. Olivia paced her bedroom. Something was wrong. Lucas knew her. Not her name. Not simply her family. Her. He had said, You’ve grown. As if he had seen her before. But Olivia had never met him. At least, she didn’t remember meeting him. She opened an old wooden chest that belonged to her mother. Inside were letters, jewelry and childhood belongings. She searched through everything. Nothing. Then she found a small folded piece of cloth at the bottom. White silk. She unfolded it. There was a symbol embroidered in gold. A crown surrounded by roses. Olivia frowned. She had never seen it before. A knock sounded. She quickly hid the cloth. “Who is it?” No answer. Olivia slowly approached the door. She opened it. Nobody stood outside. Only a sealed letter lay on the floor. Her name was written across it. OLIVIA ADRIAN. She picked it up. Her hands trembled as she opened the seal. Inside was one sentence. You must leave Valoria before the new king discovers who you really are. Olivia’s heart stopped. Below the warning was another line. Because Lucas did not return for the throne. She read the final words. And suddenly understood why her father had been afraid. He returned for you. Olivia barely had time to breathe. A shadow appeared behind her. She turned. Lucas stood at the end of the corridor. He had somehow entered the house without anyone hearing him. His eyes dropped to the letter in her hand. Then slowly rose to hers. “Give me that.” Olivia stepped backward. “Why?” Lucas began walking toward her. “Because whoever sent it…” His expression darkened. “…has just signed their own death warrant.” And then, from behind Lucas, a wounded palace guard collapsed onto the floor. Blood covered his uniform. He looked directly at Olivia. “Your Majesty…” He struggled to breathe. “The queen…” Lucas turned sharply. “What about the queen?” The guard’s eyes filled with fear. “She’s alive.” He swallowed. “After twenty years…” His gaze shifted to Olivia. “…we found her daughter.” Lucas went completely still. Olivia’s blood ran cold. Daughter? The guard pointed at her. “She’s here.” Then he died.