Chapter 58

Stirling Vance

Betrayal had a distinct taste. It tasted like cold rain, old paper, and the sweet, intoxicating scent of an Omega who held a dagger to the throat of the entire empire.

The heavy iron door of the map room hadn’t been broken down by the Empress’s guards. The twelve Royal Guards who had stormed inside weren’t her personal soldiers at all. They were my men, wearing borrowed uniforms from the Imperial Guard. My personal captain, Torin, was leading them.

The whole scene, from the broken lock to the shouted orders, had been carefully planned. It was all an act, meant to fool the palace spies watching through the gallery windows.

When the oak doors closed again, leaving us alone in the flickering candlelight, I lowered my eyes to the small, pale hand resting on my rough knuckles.

Elouera didn’t flinch. She hadn’t even reached for the silver stiletto hidden inside her velvet sleeve.

She had stood her ground the entire time, watching my captain’s every move with sharp, cold eyes. Her gaze was steady and calculating, just like that of an experienced general studying the battlefield.

“You know how to move your pieces without making a sound, Lord Vance,” she murmured.

Her voice was calm and steady. There was none of the weak, breathless trembling she usually pretended to have whenever she appeared in public as Prince Elian.

“The Northern House has survived three centuries of royal purges by knowing when to stay quiet, little bird,” I said in a rough voice.

My thumb gently brushed the back of her hand before I slowly pulled away. The moment our skin touched, a strange, burning sensation rushed up my arm. My shoulders stiffened beneath my heavy wool cloak.

Every Alpha instinct inside me urged me to pull her closer, hold her against my chest, and protect her from the dangerous people hunting her throughout the palace.

But I wasn’t Callan.

Callan wanted to lock her away in a beautiful room and convince himself that he was protecting her.

I wanted something entirely different.

I wanted to watch her destroy the throne and bring the entire royal rule crashing down.

“The Empress’s spies believe you’re lying sick in bed in the East Wing, heavily sedated,” I explained, walking toward the long oak table covered with maps of the capital.

“I had my quartermaster change the guards’ schedules along the servants’ passages. For the next three hours, every security camera from the underground archives to the western gate will show the same recorded footage from two nights ago.”

I glanced back at her.

“As far as the Crown Prince knows, you’re still fast asleep, with Jace Corowa’s short sword standing guard over you.”

Elouera leaned over the map, using her slender fingers to trace the dark lines showing the underground drainage tunnels beneath the Grand Conservatory.

The candlelight fell across the side of her neck, revealing the high lace collar she wore to hide the glowing golden mark Jace had left on her skin.

A sharp pang of jealousy stabbed at my chest, but I forced myself to ignore it. I let out a harsh breath and pushed the feeling aside.

“Callan is losing his mind,” I said, unable to hide the satisfaction in my voice. “He spent three hours in the lower cells this morning, breaking his own captains’ fingers because they couldn’t find even the slightest trace of your scent anywhere in the city.”

I gave a dark smile.

“He knows you exist now. He knows the whole story about the sickly prince was a lie.”

“Let him lose his mind,” Elouera whispered, keeping her eyes on the map of the underground royal vaults. “A mad dog is easy to predict. He’ll search the Under-Market and the houses along the northern border. He won’t think to look for me right under his own mother’s feet.”

“And what about Holden?” I asked.

I placed both hands flat on the table and leaned closer to her. Her scent filled my lungs—the sweetness of wild honey, the freshness of rain, and the sharp, metallic smell of the Night-bloom poison.

“He still thinks you’re his helpless little weapon,” I continued. “He believes the Catalyst-7 he released in the barracks will trigger a violent heat in you during tomorrow’s public trial.”

A slow, frightening smile appeared on her lips. It was a bold, dangerous smile that made my heart pound against my throat.

“Uncle Holden spent six years poisoning me because he wanted to turn me into a weapon,” she said quietly. She looked straight into my amber eyes, standing firm without a hint of fear. “But he doesn’t know that I’ve spent the last forty-eight hours preparing my body for what he’s planning.”

Her smile grew colder.

“When he releases the gas tomorrow, it won’t break my mind, Stirling. Instead, it will give me the perfect excuse to execute him in front of the entire High Council.”

Her plan was so daring that a deep laugh escaped my chest. She wasn’t simply trying to escape the trap Holden had set for her. She was changing his entire plan and turning it against him.

The danger of it thrilled me.

Protecting her from Callan, feeding false reports to the Empress’s spies, and using secret underground passages to move people and supplies without the Vanguard discovering them—this was the boldest act of treason the Northern House had carried out in fifty years.

“My cavalry is waiting three miles outside the valley pass,” I said, lowering my voice. There was a quiet but dangerous devotion in my words. “By dawn, my captains will cut the communication lines between the capital and the southern military camps. When you make your move against Holden tomorrow, the Northern House will seal the iron gates. Nobody will be allowed in or out.”

She turned to look at me, her dark eyes searching my face. She seemed to be looking for a hidden motive, for the price an Alpha might demand from an Omega who had no one else to protect her.

“Why are you doing this, Stirling?” she asked softly. Her rough voice broke the silence. “You could take this file to the Empress today and demand that the North be exempted from all its taxes. You could rule half the continent without spilling a single drop of Vance blood.”

I took one step closer to her, stopping just inches away. I raised my scarred hand toward her face, my thick fingers hovering near her jaw. I could feel the heat coming from her skin, but I didn’t touch her.

“Because the Empress is a tyrant sitting on a throne that was never rightfully hers, Elouera,” I said in a rough, honest voice. “I would rather burn in hell beside a Queen who knows how to fight than spend another day bowing to a family of cowards.”

Her breathing caught for a moment, and her eyes met mine. The silence between us grew heavy. Even the candle flames seemed to stop moving.

Suddenly, the brass communication horn attached to the stone pillar near the door let out a sharp whistle.

Captain Torin’s panicked voice came through the pipe, sounding rough and distorted.

“My Lord! Someone has broken into the lower security system! Crown Prince Callan didn’t fall for our trick. He’s bypassing the city gates!”

I turned toward the brass pipe, my jaw tightening.

“Where is he?”

“He’s in the maintenance vaults directly beneath this room, My Lord!” Torin shouted. The sound of fighting could be heard in the background. “He brought thirty heavily armed Vanguard executioners with him! He’s not looking for a runaway prince anymore. He’s spreading military pitch beneath the floors! He’s planning to set the entire East Wing on fire from below. We have ten minutes before he does it!”