Semua Bab Coronation Of A Disaster: Bab 1 - Bab 10

ARMANO POVShe was loud.Even in the suffocating silence of the private hangar, where the air smelled of jet fuel, ozone, and the biting cold of a Washington winter, she was loud. It wasn't her voice—she hadn't spoken a word since the Secret Service agent handed her over to me like a unstable isotope. It was her presence. It was the violent clash of that emerald silk against the industrial grey of the tarmac. It was the sharp, aggressive click of her heels on the metal gangplank, each step a declaration of war.I stood at the entrance of the Royal Regalian transport jet, my hands clasped behind my back. I rolled my left shoulder, feeling the familiar, grinding ache in the joint—a souvenir from a sniper's bullet in Kandahar three years ago. The pain was a constant companion, a low-level hum that kept me awake when I should be sleeping and reminded me that I was still alive when I should be dead. It was my flaw, perhaps. I didn't know how to stop. I didn't know how to rest.I watched her

MARIGOLD POVFor a long time, the only sound in the room was the frantic thumping of my own heart and the wind howling around the tower like a grieving widow.I stayed pressed against the balcony doors, the cold wood seeping through my thin dress, clutching the silver knife Armano had given me until my fingers ached. The roar from the courtyard didn't repeat itself, but the silence that followed was worse. It was the silence of a holding breath.Eventually, the adrenaline began to leach out of my muscles, leaving me shaking and exhausted. I turned away from the doors and looked at my prison.It was beautiful, in a haunting, Victorian Gothic sort of way. The bed was massive, a mountain of velvet and dark wood, hung with heavy curtains that looked thick enough to smother a person. The wardrobe was carved with intricate vines that seemed to strangle the wood. There was a dressing table with a silver mirror, but the glass was obscured by a layer of dust, as if no one had looked into it for

CHAPTER 6 MARIGOLD POVThe transition from the grey, windswept courtyard to the opulent suffocation of the Council chamber gave me whiplash.We left the fresh, sharp air and the smell of wet stone for a room that smelled of beeswax, old paper, and decades of suppressed rage. The Council of Vultures didn’t meet in the throne room—that was for tourists and coronations. They met in the Long Gallery, a narrow, cavernous hall lined with portraits of stern-faced men who looked like they hadn’t enjoyed a single meal since the 14th century.Cian walked ahead of me, his boots clicking rhythmically on the parquet floor. He didn't look back to see if I was following. He didn't need to. He knew I had nowhere else to go.Armano walked two steps behind me. A shadow. A threat. A constant, brooding presence at my back.As we moved deeper into the belly of the castle, the atmosphere grew heavier. The torches on the walls were spaced further apart, casting long, stretching shadows that seemed to reach

ARMANO POVThe castle slept, but I did not.I moved through the corridors like a ghost, the soles of my boots absorbing the sound of my footsteps on the ancient stone. The banquet had ended two hours ago. The guests had dispersed to their chambers, the musicians had packed their instruments, and the candles in the Great Hall had been snuffed out, plunging the room back into shadow.But I was awake. I was always awake.I walked the perimeter of the East Wing, checking the locks on the windows, verifying the positions of the night watch. My body moved on autopilot, a well-oiled machine performing the functions it had been trained for since I was a boy. I checked the alcoves, I scanned the rafters, I counted the shadows. It was a dance I had performed a thousand times, a rhythm as familiar as my own heartbeat.But my mind... my mind was not on the perimeter.It was on a balcony. On a cold wind. On a hand that had lingered against mine for a fraction of a second too long.I stopped at a wi

ARMANO POVThe pain was a white-hot spike in my side, radiating out like a shock wave with every shallow breath I took.We dropped from the rooftop into a narrow service alley on the other side of the building. I landed hard, the impact driving the air from my lungs and sending a jolt of agony through my ribs that nearly dropped me to my knees.I swallowed a groan, locking my jaw tight. I couldn't show weakness. Not now. Not here."Armano?" Marigold whispered. She was at my side instantly, her small hand gripping my bicep, trying to steady me. She was trembling, her eyes wide and darting toward the mouth of the alley where the smoke billowed like a grey curtain."I'm fine," I bit out, though the words sounded like gravel grinding together. I pushed off the rough brick wall, forcing my body to obey the command to stand. "We need to get off the street. They will be sweeping the sector."She didn't argue. She moved to the heavy wooden door set into the stone foundation of the building we