Crowned in Crimson Cinders

Chapter 14: The Murderous Maid - remastered

I woke with a dull ache in my skull—nothing sharp, just a reminder of yesterday's power drain. Brock had warned me this might happen.

Everything else unfolded as it always did. My maids brought breakfast, I offered my thanks, and the room fell back into its usual hush. But time stretched oddly today. Brock, who always arrived an hour or two after breakfast, was late. Very late.

At first, I brushed it off. He's probably running behind, even though it was uncharacteristic of him to do so. But as minutes dragged into an hour, worry slipped in like smoke under a door. He was almost assassinated days ago. That thought clung to me.

I paced. Bit my nails. The room grew warm. The temperature was slowly rising, something I would have failed to notice a week ago.

Relax, Aleah. Remember what Brock told you.

I sat on my bed and forced deep breaths through my lungs. Think of anything else. Anything but—

A knock at the door. Light. Controlled. My heart leapt. Finally Brock had come.

My steps stopped halfway to the door, my hand already oputstretched for the handle. What if it wasn't Brock behind that door. What if it was someone else? It could be—

"Aleah. It's me. Let me in, please."

Brock. Relief surged through me, but when I opened the door, it stopped short. His face was pale. Hollow. He had this look of devastation on his face.

"What happened?" The words rushed out before I could stop them.

He didn't answer right away. His eyes dropped to the floor, shoulders hunched like the news itself had weight. "There was another attempt," he finally said. "But this time... they succeeded."

"What.. do you mean? Another assasin?"

How could this be possible? We just caught one of them an now there were more. Who knew how many other would come.

A cold grip clenched my stomach. "Who?"

He looked up. "Breya. She's dead."

Breya. My sister. Not the kindest, but she had never been cruel. She hadn't deserved this. She was a good person deep down. I remember times when I was younger and she actually cared enough to step up for me. Though we don't speak very often, the news of her death still sent a wave of panic and regret down my spine. I would never get to say goodbye.

Why would anyone try to assasinate her? She is involved in the court life but not as much as Amora. Even Brylee spent more time chatting with the nobles at every court meeting or ball.

"Did they catch who did it?"

Brock nodded and held out his arm. "They're holding her in the throne room."

"Her?"

"One of Breya's maids. She poisoned the drink."

I didn't speak. I didn't need to. We both knew what this meant. Even within palace walls, even in our own rooms—we weren't safe. No one could be trusted. Not even our maid which we practically grew up with.

The walk to the throne room was silent. Our footsteps echoed through the halls as the guards' metal boots clanked behind us. Their presence made me feel uneasy, as if they might turn on us at any second.

The throne room was unchanged, but everything felt different.

People lined the walls in a suffocating silence. My parents stood on the dais, flanked by guards and courtiers. Brylee stood nearby, head bowed, tears sliding down her cheeks.