thick and grey, stinging his eyes, clawing at his throat. The flickering orange light painted Duke Cassian's face in shifti

phina. He felt the slight tremor in her where she pressed against his back, her fingers gripping the damp

rasping from the smoke but sharp as his dagg

it has you rattled." He took another deliberate step forward. His polished boots crunched on fallen plaster. His hand, previously hovering near his hip, now rested c

sly, coughing. "Your Grace... the fire... it

opening of the narrow passage behind him. "Quickly, nephew. Before the smoke overwhelms us." His gaze flickered again to Seraphina, lingering on her

nd escaped her – not a sob, but a stifled gasp for clean air. He could feel the f

he fire closed in was suicide. And Cassian's insistence, his positioning blocking the

is voice tight. He didn't lower his d

on. "Of course, Lucian. Whatever makes you feel secure." He turned smoothly, his back to them,

e heat intensified as they moved away from the main corridor inferno, but the smoke was thicker here, trapped in the narrower space. It burned Lucian's lungs. He pulled a corner

is figure a dark silhouette against the orange haze. Lucian kept Seraphina close, his free hand on the cold stone wall for balance, the other still gripping his dagge

ness deepened. Lucian could barely see Cassian a few steps below. Seraphina stumbled on a worn step, her hand fly

p, smooth and mocking from the gloom below. "T

dy as they descended another turn. They were deep in the palace bowels now. The air smelled of damp ston

are," he announced, his voice echoing slightly. "The lower storage level. Safe. We can cut through to the south cou

all space. It was a dead end. Only the stairs going up, and this door. His soldier's instincts screa

My mind is addled by the smoke." He made a show of rubbing his temples. "This old

t scrape of metal on stone. The barest shift

s voice dangerously calm

lence stretched, thick and heavy in the damp air. Then, a

rance, You

y. They moved with the quiet confidence of professionals. Each held a heavy, brutal-looking club. One stepped between

remained. His eyes were cold and hard as flint. "You always were too clever for your own good, Lucian. And too trusting of vipers." He nod

s close enough now that Lucian could smell the stale sweat an

r bloodline. Eldorra needs strong, pure leadership. Not weakness shackled to the enemy." He drew his sword with a soft, metallic hiss. The blade gleamed dully in the faint light filtering down the

ith the cl

away from the swing. "STAY DOWN!" he roared. At the same time, he ducked under

prise than pain, his swing faltering. Lucian ripped the dagger free in a spray of warm b

sed. And Cassian himself was advancing, his sword point aimed steadily at Lucian

One wounded thug. One fresh. And his uncle, a skilled swordsman, with a blade longer than

predator's smile.

ard, club ready to batter Lucian's defenses down. Lu

the corner where he'd shoved

eyes wide with terror, near the top of the stairs they'd just descended. Seraphina crashed into him, her hand diving into the leather p

the stone wall. It sparked violently. With a strength born of sheer despe