Chapter 8 - Checkmate in the Dark
“Well, well, well,” Malrec purred, stepping over the threshold of the Sunken Vault with slow, measured strides. He held a heavy iron-keyed ring in one hand and a drawn shortsword in the other. “It seems street rats are notoriously difficult to exterminate once they crawl into the palace.”
Rhys stepped in front of Amara and Sera, his broadsword catching the torchlight with a lethal gleam. “You’ve played your last hand, Malrec. The real princess is alive, and your treason is exposed.”
Malrec threw back his head and laughed—a harsh, barking sound that echoed off the vaulted gold and silver piles.
“Exposed to whom, boy?” Malrec sneered, his eyes locking onto Rhys with venomous hatred. “The cathedral doors are sealed. The royal guard outside take their orders from me, not a lovesick king from across a hostile border. By morning, the official report will state that the barbarian King Rhys slaughtered both the princess and her escort in a fit of savage rage, forcing our northern armies to march in righteous vengeance.”
Malrec’s gaze shifted to Sera, a sickening grin spreading across his face.
“And as for you, little thief... you should have stayed in your cell. You almost made a convincing princess. Too bad your performance was cut short.”
Malrec raised his hand, signaling his guards to level their crossbows directly at the trio trapped against the far wall of the vault.
Sera’s heart hammered against her ribs. She looked at the piles of gold, at the heavy iron chests, and then down at her right hand—the hand with the burn scar. She didn't have a sword like Rhys. She didn't have a crown or an army.
What she had spent her entire life learning in the brutal, unforgiving slums was how to survive when the odds were stacked a thousand to one against her.
As Malrec opened his mouth to give the final order to fire, Sera didn't cower. She kicked out hard with her foot, sending a massive, unsecured chest filled with ancient heavy gold coins sliding directly across the slick stone floor.
Crash!
The heavy chest slammed violently into the legs of the front row of guards, knocking two of them off balance and tangling their crossbows in a chaotic mess of iron and limbs.
“Now, Rhys!” Sera roared.
May you like
Rhys didn't need a second invitation. With the battle cry of a seasoned warlord, he lunged forward, his broadsword sweeping in a wide, devastating arc that shattered the crossbow of the nearest guard and sent him sprawling into the dark.
Chaos erupted inside the Sunken Vault. Gold coins rained down like hail as guards scrambled to regain their footing on the treacherous, rolling wealth beneath their boots.
