CHAPTER 107: THE FAILED ATTEMPT

The crack ripped across the arena like the sound of bone breaking. Dust plumed. The dais lurched... and then buckled away from Leroy, collapsing in a deafening crash that sent splinters and stone scattering over the arena floor.

Screams echoed under the vaulted sky. The Emperor’s box remained high and untouchable, its golden canopy quivering but intact. Above, nobles pressed hands to mouths, silks and jewels glittering like trapped birds.

But below, on the sand, the world had broken.

The Corvalith envoys, who had only just finished laying their tributes at the foot of the dais, were the first struck as they protected their royals. One man disappeared beneath a slab of wood, another staggered with blood running down his temple, and a third was dragged to the ground by a panicked horse screaming in its harness.

Leroy still lived.

He pushed himself up from the dust, his cloak gray with grit, the raw shock of survival flashing across his features. For a single heartbeat, the crowd only stared, breathless—then roared in chaos.

He took one look around, at the seats of the arena though, the area where the commoners were at. After that, he did not wait. He did not look back at the Emperor’s safe perch or to the nobles above. He sprinted straight into the ruin. With bare hands, he heaved a shattered beam off a Corvalith envoy’s legs, dragged another man out from beneath the rubble, his arms bracing the staggering with steady strength. He then checked on the Royal couple.

The crowd surged, voices clashing in disbelief and awe. The hostage prince was not fleeing, not cowering, not waiting for rescue. He was the first in the dust, bleeding for men not his own.

Lorraine’s pulse thundered. He lived. Her gamble had held.

And... this was her husband.

The first to move when others faltered, the one who never measured risk before hurling himself into it. He did not wait for orders, nor weigh reputation, nor cling to safety. He ran head first into dust and ruin, dragging strangers from under shattered beams, shielding the wounded with his own body.

And she, hidden above, could only watch.

A heat coiled in her chest, fierce and aching. She envied those who had stood beside him on the battlefield, those who had seen him raise his sword against enemies, his voice rising over the clash of steel, his fury made flesh. They had seen him, glorious.

She had not.

She wanted to.

But the yearning twisted sharp, because she knew: that sight would not come without blood. To see him as he once was, as the warrior prince, unbound and blazing, meant the world itself would have to demand it of him.

And the gods rarely demanded without taking in return.

Her eyes flicked to the Emperor. He was ringed by guards, his face hidden, shuffling back like a shadow behind steel. The Empress and Crown Prince had already been whisked away, and now he followed.

Always the coward. Lorraine’s lip curled.

Down in the dust, Leroy was still pulling men from under the rubble, dust coating his shoulders, his voice rising above the chaos. Pride and dread twined in her chest like a noose. He looked every inch the hero her enemies feared, and that was exactly why they would keep trying to kill him. She prayed she would never see the day her wish—to see him in battle, glorious—was granted.

For it would come only at a terrible cost.

And Gaston? His neat little play had overturned itself. What was meant to shatter Leroy had instead crowned him as a prince of the people. Her husband. The victor. Always.

But she did not celebrate. Not yet. The ceremony was broken, which meant the true game was only beginning.

Her gaze swept the nobles. Then she saw him. Hadrian Arvand. Her father. While the others fled, he remained, his eagle eyes sharp, his finger pressed against his nose, rubbing... a signal.

"Get down!"

Damian’s voice cracked in her ear as he wrenched her low. An arrow hissed past her head, loosed from somewhere behind... straight for Leroy.

Lorraine’s heart stopped.

But then, a rose. Damian flicked it from his cloak, and impossibly, the bloom shifted the arrow’s path, just enough. The shaft skimmed past Leroy’s shoulder and buried itself harmlessly in the dirt.

She whipped her head toward Damian, wide-eyed. Did he just...save Leroy?

But Damian wasn’t looking at her. He vaulted back, disappearing into the crowd, hunting the assassin. A heartbeat later, he returned, boot grinding into the chest of the bowman, who lay breathless on the trampled ground. Panic surged into a stampede around them as more arrows flew around.

Lorraine’s eyes, however, found her father again. His mouth was tight, his face darkening as failure settled on his shoulders. He turned to leave.

She smirked.

Oh, Father. I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this. I was ready to walk away from all of it—from you, from the past. But you touched my husband. You aimed your venom at him. For that, I will not leave until I’ve made you writhe.

Her face twisted with anger as more arrows hissed through the air, each aimed for Leroy. Yet Lorraine only folded her arms. Let them come. Her husband was no stranger to arrows; he had cut down archers on real battlefields. And more importantly, her shinobi were in place, silent guardians in the dust. Every shaft was knocked aside before it could find flesh.

Damian returned to her side, calm even as the mob churned around them. He ground his heel deeper into the dead archer and glanced at her. "You planned for this too?" he asked.

Lorraine blinked out of her storm of thoughts, meeting his smile. "Thank you," she said, her voice clipped. Gratitude was not owed, not really. Leroy would have survived regardless, but she gave it.

"That’s for lying to you," Damian said.

She lifted her chin, unimpressed. Could she trust him? No. He was still a zealot, still too dangerous to draw close.

But then he leaned close, his breath warm against her ear. "I found where your father is keeping that person."

Lorraine froze, her eyes narrowing. The other day, Damian had whispered hints that her father had kept someone hidden in the dungeons for years. He even told her that Leroy had poked the hornet’s nest. Now... her pulse hammered.

Was he telling the truth?

And just then, as if all hell broke loose, came a loud shout.

Lorraine turned in that direction, and her eyes widened.

No way!

She almost jumped down, but Damian held her back.