The Knife That Missed the King
Chapter 06 - The Knife That Missed the King
Elara entered the cathedral tunnels before midnight.
Agnes had begged her to wait for Rowan, but waiting was another word powerful people used when they wanted someone else to remain helpless.
A narrow stair twisted beneath the queen’s apartments. The deeper Elara went, the colder the stone became. Water dripped through the ceiling. Somewhere ahead, bells groaned in the wind.
She carried a candle in one hand and a kitchen knife in the other.
At the bottom of the stair, she found an iron door standing open.
Too easy.
Inside was a cell with fresh straw, an empty bowl, and chains bolted to the wall. On the floor lay a silver falcon button from her father’s coat.
“Elara.”
She spun.
Rowan stepped from the dark passage behind her.
For one second neither moved.
He looked older than the man she remembered. A pale scar crossed his brow. Exile had sharpened him, but his eyes were the same—steady, gray, and incapable of hiding pain from her.
“You came,” she said.
“I always came. I was simply late.”
She wanted to strike him for that answer. She wanted to hold him. Instead, she showed him the button.
“My father was here.”
“Recently.”
Rowan touched the straw. “It is still warm.”
Footsteps rushed through the corridor.
Rowan pulled Elara behind him as armed men charged into the chamber wearing blue-and-gold badges. They shouted his name as though following his command.
“Take the king!” one yelled.
Rowan swore. “They are not mine.”
The men fled toward the palace stair. Rowan and Elara followed, reaching the map room just as a masked attacker lunged at King Aldren.
The blade never touched him.
Elara grabbed a heavy brass candle stand and struck the attacker’s wrist. The knife fell. Rowan tackled the man while the king’s guards flooded the room.
Varrick arrived moments later.
He looked from Rowan to the attacker on the floor, then to the badge sewn onto the man’s coat.
“Captain Ashford’s rebellion has reached the palace,” he announced.
“He saved the king,” Elara said.
Varrick pointed to the fallen knife. “After arranging the attack?”
The masked man began to laugh.
Before anyone could question him, he bit down hard. His body went still.
Poison hidden in a false tooth.
Aldren stared at Rowan. “Did you command him?”
“No.”
“Can you prove it?”
Rowan pointed to the attacker’s boots. “Those are royal armory boots. New leather, palace issue.”
Varrick’s gaze flickered downward.
Elara saw it.
So did the king.
Aldren ordered the body searched. Inside the man’s coat, they found a folded command bearing Rowan’s forged signature.
The ink was still wet.
The king turned slowly toward Varrick.
But the chancellor had already prepared his answer.
“The palace copyist who identified Ashford’s hand,” he said, “was Lady Elara’s father.”
Elara stopped breathing.
May you like
Varrick lowered his voice.
“Lord Vale is alive,” he said. “And he has confessed to everything.”
