"Crowns topple easily. Thrones crumble like dust. Hearts cease to beat. Thorns draw blood."
In a country torn into two, there should have been no room for mistakes. Especially not at the very core of the royal family. That was what she was. Yes, a...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Things have not gone the way that Oleg Lantsov wanted them to happen. What with all the failed missions and the failed attempts to kill those deserving of death.
Even Prince Antero wanted nothing to do with scheming with him. He seemed to be completely entrapped with Irina and nothing could have changed that. That was the thing with Fjerdans, they were unreliable.
Truth be told, the young prince was beginning to feel hopeless.
But suddenly, things took an unexpected turn. In one night, the Shadow Summoner and his whore of a sister disappeared from the palace.
The events of that night were being kept quiet by King Andrei, his idiotic father. Lucky for Oleg, he did have the brain to realize what had actually happened.
He had seen the dead bodies being dragged from the palace foyer. He had seen the bloodstains on the marble floors. He had seen the shattered door of his sister's bedroom.
Whatever had happened that night would change everything. Everything was now so much simpler. It was as if the Saints decided to finally bless him.
Oleg knew that Irina and the Darkling were involved romantically. If their longing looks and stolen moments were indications of anything. Disgusting. If they had disappeared on the same night, then it must be that they disappeared together.
No one knew yet of what happened. The story was that his sister had been staying in her room for her health. A believable excuse especially when she had almost died of poison. While the Darkling was said to have gone to his lands in Balakirev.
However, should the real story manage to get out, the king of Ravka would be a laughing stock. A king who lost a powerful Grisha and his own daughter. A king who could not maintain order. The agreement with Fjerda would fall apart since poor Prince Antero's betrothed had run away.
The country would be in tatters and ruins. War on every front. A war from its own people and war from the foreigners. It would be anarchy.
Oleg let out a laugh, slipping his hands into his pockets as he strolled casually to his father's chambers. He whistled softly under his breath, his eyes twinkling with amusement and victory. Anarchy would be fun.
Oleg stopped in front of his father's chambers, smirking at the guard with an unusual smile. Almost mad. "Tell my father that his firstborn son is here to see him."
The guard nodded, disappearing into the room without another word. Oleg scoffed, crossing his arms in front of him. Irina never had to knock or wait, their father always made time for her. Once he was done with what he had planned, his father would never put Irina first ever again.
The guard exited the room and opened the door for the young prince to enter with nary a bow to show respect. Everyone in this palace was irritable, no one deserved to stand in his presence. Not even this stupid guard.
