The Crown's Deception

Chapter 4: Shadows in the Web

The tavern air was thick with smoke and silence, the kind that pressed against your ribs until you could barely breathe. Every pair of eyes in the room was fixed on me — waiting to see if the crown princess of Lysara would submit… or rebel.

Malrik stood like a statue of polished ice, hands clasped loosely behind his back, a study in false civility. His six cloaked men had closed off every exit, their boots scuffing against the uneven wooden floor.

“Princess Elara,” Malrik said softly, “I do not relish using force. But I will, if you make me.”

Beside me, Kael’s body was all coiled steel, ready to spring. “You’re not taking her,” he growled.

Malrik tilted his head, amusement flashing in his dark eyes. “Ah, the loyal guard. Still playing the hero? Or is there something… more?”

I felt the question hang in the air, dangerous and sharp. Kael didn’t flinch, but I caught the faint tightening of his jaw.

“Your Highness,” Malrik continued, turning back to me, “you have a duty to your father, to the throne, to your people. Do not throw it away on the whispered lies of a disgraced man.”

The words pricked at my heart — not because I believed him, but because he knew exactly which doubts to press.

Kael stepped closer, his voice barely above a whisper meant only for me. “If you go with him, you won’t see the outside of a locked room again. I won’t be able to reach you.”

My mind raced. If I refused Malrik now, we would have to fight our way out. If I went with him, I might live… but at the cost of my freedom and the truth we’d just begun to uncover.

Malrik extended a gloved hand, his smile that of a man who knew he’d already won. “Choose wisely, Princess.”

I took a slow breath. And then—

The window beside our table shattered in a spray of glass.

A figure dressed in street leathers and armed with twin daggers tumbled through the opening, landing in a crouch. My heart lurched.

“Lysa?” I breathed.

Her eyes, fierce and wild, met mine for a single heartbeat. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Lysa’s arrival was like a lightning strike — sudden, blinding, impossible to ignore.

Kael didn’t waste a breath. “Move!” he barked, grabbing my arm and shoving the table toward Malrik’s men. The wood splintered under the force, scattering mugs and coins across the floor.

Lysa was already in motion, her daggers flashing as she slashed the ropes holding the tavern’s side shutters closed. “Out, out!” she hissed.

We dove through the narrow opening into the cold night air. My boots struck the cobblestones, and the three of us bolted down the winding street, the shouts of pursuit close behind.

The moonlight caught Lysa’s face for the first time in months, and my breath caught. She was thinner now, her cheeks sharpened by hunger, but her dark eyes burned brighter than I’d ever seen. Her hair, once neatly braided under a maid’s cap, was now tied back with a strip of leather, wild strands framing a face streaked with soot.

This wasn’t the quiet, gentle maid who used to lace my gowns and press flowers into my hair. This was someone honed by survival — her movements sharp, her stance ready to fight.

“Lysa,” I gasped as we ducked into a side alley, “how—where have you been?”

She didn’t look back. “Hiding in plain sight. Learning the streets, the people, the ways out your father’s guards never think to watch.” She shot me a glance over her shoulder, fierce and unyielding. “I told you I’d keep you safe, Princess. I never break my promises.”

We skidded around another corner, Kael taking the lead now. Behind us, Malrik’s men were gaining ground — their armored boots clanging against the stones like war drums.

“Left!” Lysa shouted. “There’s a stair to the old aqueduct. They won’t follow if they think it’s collapsed.”

We plunged into the shadow of a crumbling archway, the scent of damp stone and moss filling my lungs. Somewhere above, I could still hear Malrik’s calm voice calling orders, his words echoing through the maze of streets.

We were not safe yet. But for the first time since my escape began, I wasn’t running alone.

We were not safe yet. But for the first time since my escape began, I wasn’t running alone.

Kael’s voice was low but urgent. “We can’t go to the main gates. Malrik’s men will have locked them by now.”

“Then where?” I asked, trying to match his pace despite the burning in my legs.

Lysa’s answer came in a sharp whisper. “There’s an old smuggler’s path through the aqueduct. No one uses it anymore — too dangerous.”

“That’s your idea of safety?” I hissed.

“It’s my idea of staying alive.”

We splashed through shallow water pooling in the cracked stone channel, the echo of our footsteps bouncing off the high, arched ceiling. My lungs screamed for air, but fear kept me moving. Every time we turned a corner, I expected a shadow to detach from the darkness and become one of Malrik’s men.

Then came the sound that froze us all — not footsteps, not shouts — but a slow, deliberate tapping against stone.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

It was close. Too close.

Lysa’s eyes widened. “They found us.”

Kael gripped the hilt of his sword. “No… this isn’t Malrik’s men.”

The tapping grew louder, joined by the faint scrape of metal. From the tunnel ahead, a figure emerged — cloaked, hooded, face hidden.

“Who’s there?” Kael demanded.

The figure tilted its head, and in a voice that was both calm and cold, said:

“You’re in the wrong part of the city, Princess.”

Before I could react, more shapes began to appear in the shadows behind them.

We were surrounded.

The silence between us stretched, broken only by the faint drip of water from the cracked stone wall. I could still feel Kael’s words lingering in the air, heavy and edged with something unspoken. He’d given me his promise — but it wasn’t the sort of promise that erased my fear. It was the kind that made you wonder if the person in front of you was your salvation… or your ruin.

Lysa shifted uncomfortably, glancing from him to me. “Princess,” she murmured, her voice quieter than usual, “perhaps… you should know something.”

I turned to her. “About what?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line before she spoke. “About who I am — or at least… who I was.”

Kael’s gaze sharpened, but he said nothing.

“I wasn’t always a palace maid,” Lysa continued. “Before I was assigned to your service, I… lived in the lower districts. I learned how to survive there. Pickpocketing, blending into crowds, slipping away before trouble found me. I know the city in ways maps will never show you. And I can get us past patrols — even Draven’s men.”

The revelation hit me harder than I expected. Lysa, the quiet girl who brushed my hair and whispered court gossip in the dead of night, had walked streets I’d only ever seen from a carriage window.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” I asked.

“Because,” she said softly, “if anyone knew, I would’ve been sent back to the streets — or worse. Serving you was… the first time I’d been safe in years.” Her eyes flickered with something I couldn’t name. “But if we’re going to survive this, you need to understand — I’m not as helpless as I look.”

Kael’s mouth curved in the faintest, almost mocking smirk. “She’s right. And if you’re smart, Princess, you’ll start trusting the people who’ve actually seen the world outside your palace gates.”

I met his eyes, unflinching. “I am trusting you. Both of you. But I expect the truth from now on.”

“Truth is dangerous,” Kael said flatly. “It can get you killed faster than a lie.”

Before I could answer, a sudden commotion erupted at the mouth of the alley — shouts, the clanging of steel. The three of us froze.

“They’ve found us,” Kael muttered, already reaching for the blade at his side.

But when the figures emerged from the shadows, my blood turned cold.

It wasn’t the king’s guards.

It wasn’t Draven’s soldiers.

It was worse.

The men wore no insignia — only black leather armor and hoods pulled low over their faces. And in the dim torchlight, I recognized the emblem etched into their belts: a serpent coiled around a dagger.

Kael cursed under his breath. “Thorne’s men.”