The crown began begging before anyone touched it. From her place on the floor, the scullery girl heard it whisper, “Please. Don’t put me on his head.”

The air in the lower dungeons was thick with the stench of damp moss, rusted iron, and centuries of despair. Water dripped rhythmically into puddles somewhere in the dark, sounding like a slow, cruel clock ticking away their remaining hours.

Lucy sat huddled in the corner of the stone cell, her arms wrapped around her knees to ward off the biting chill. Across the narrow aisle, separated by heavy iron bars, Prince William paced back and forth like a caged wolf, his boots scraping against the wet floor.

“Stop pacing,” Lucy whispered, her voice cracking slightly. “You’re making the stones nervous.”

William stopped abruptly, staring at her through the bars. Despite the dirt smeared across his aristocratic face and the dried blood staining his collar, there was a fierce, desperate intelligence in his eyes. “The stones nervous? You’ve spent too much time talking to the architecture, girl.”

“They talk back if you actually listen,” Lucy muttered defensively. “The wall behind you has been trying to tell you that the southern mortar is rotting for ten years. If you’d fixed it, maybe the whole dungeon wouldn't smell like a swamp.”

William let out a dry, exhausted chuckle, leaning his forehead against the cold iron bars. “You have a remarkable talent for gallows humor, Lucy. Considering we are scheduled to be sacrificed to an underground monster at midnight, your composure is unsettling.”

“I’m terrified,” Lucy admitted softly, dropping her chin to her knees. “I’m twelve years old, Your Highness. I’m supposed to be scrubbing grease off plates, not fighting immortal shadow-chancellors.”

William’s expression softened. He slid down the bars until he was sitting on the damp floor opposite her cell, the iron barrier the only thing separating them. “You’re braver than any knight in my royal guard. When I ran, I ran with a sword. You ran with the truth.”

“The truth doesn't stop a sword,” Lucy replied bitterly.

“No,” William agreed, reaching his hand through the bars, his fingers brushing against the hem of her apron. “But it’s the only thing that breaks a spell. The Chancellor said the ritual happens at midnight under the blood moon. That gives us a few hours.”

“A few hours in a locked cell with no keys, no weapons, and half the palace guard standing outside,” Lucy said flatly.

“Not all the guards are loyal to him,” a low voice echoed from the darkness of the cell next to them.

Both Lucy and William startled. From the shadows of the adjacent cell stepped a massive, broad-shouldered man with a thick beard and a heavy royal guard uniform. It was Captain Marcus, head of the outer palace guard, whom William had promoted just a month ago.

“Marcus?” William scrambled to his feet, pressing against the bars dividing their cells. “What are you doing down here?”

“Refusing to bow to a parasite, Your Highness,” Marcus said grimly, stepping into the dim torchlight filtering down the corridor. He held up a thick piece of heavy wire he had twisted into a makeshift lockpick. “When the Chancellor locked you away, half the barracks realized the rumors were true. The old man isn't just an advisor; he’s a leech.”

“Can you get these doors open?” William asked, hope flaring in his chest.

“Give me two minutes,” Marcus replied, sliding the wire into the ancient, rusted keyhole of William’s cell door.

With a satisfying click, the heavy iron lock sprang open. Marcus pushed the door wide, then quickly moved to Lucy’s cell, unlocking hers with the same practiced ease.

Lucy tumbled out onto the stone floor, scrambling to her feet. “The keys! The Chancellor took the Vault Keys!”

“He didn't take all of them,” Marcus said with a grim smile, reaching into his heavy belt pouch and pulling out a single, heavy iron key that pulsed with a faint blue light. “One of the junior guards was loyal enough to slip this out of the Chancellor’s desk before they dragged me down here. It’s the master key to the inner seal.”

William took the key from the captain’s hand, feeling the cold, pulsating magic thrumming beneath the metal. “If we reach the inner vault before midnight, we can break the connection between the throne and the vault permanently.”