Chapter 3 - Blood in the Arcade
The disruption outside was instantaneous. Captain Marcus Hale burst into the alcove, his sword drawn and dripping with fresh blood.
“Your Majesty! Lord Cedric has mobilized the inner guard. He claims the beast is a demonic omen and has ordered a full execution protocol. They are moving on the menagerie now!” Marcus panted, his eyes darting to Rowan. “And they are bringing the fire-scythes.”
Helena stood up, her regal composure hardening into pure wrath. “Cedric has overstepped his bounds for the last time. He thinks because Lucian is young and impressionable, he can seize control of the Regency council.”
“We have to stop them,” Rowan said, rising to his feet, casting the wool blanket aside. The confusion and fear that had gripped him earlier were gone, replaced by a strange, humming clarity. Every beat of his heart syncopated with the distant vibration of the winged tiger’s roar.
“If you step out into that courtyard, Cedric will kill you on sight, royal blood or not,” Marcus warned, grabbing Rowan’s shoulder. “He wants you dead to secure Lucian’s uncontested rule.”
“He can try,” Rowan said. He picked up the heavy silver key Helena had left on the table. As his fingers touched the cold metal, a surge of blue fire flared across the back of his hands, tracing intricate, glowing patterns beneath his skin—the exact same emblem as the medallion on the beast.
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Marcus stepped back in shock, staring at Rowan’s glowing hands. “By the gods…”
“The time for hiding in the shadows is over,” Helena declared, drawing a slender, jewel-encrusted dagger from her belt. “Let them come to the courtyard. Let them see what happens when the true heir answers the call.”
