A Heart Divided

Chapter 45

The Reckoning

Prince Julian reined in his horse, a wicked smile playing on his lips as his gaze fixed on Eliza. His cold eyes, once filled with affection for her, now radiated nothing but disdain and malice.

"Did you really think you could escape, Eleanor?" he called out, his voice carrying across the battlefield, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Did you think you could defy the throne and live to tell the tale?"

Eliza's grip on her sword tightened, her breath steady despite the fear clawing at her insides. She had never once been afraid of Julian—not until now, when she saw what he had become. His ambition had twisted him into someone unrecognizable.

"I didn't escape, Julian," she said, her voice ringing with a quiet strength. "I took control of my own fate. Something you'll never understand."

The prince's eyes narrowed, and he dismounted, drawing his sword with a swift motion. His soldiers parted, forming a ring around the two of them, leaving them alone in the center of the chaos.

"You think you're worthy to wear that crown?" Julian sneered. "You're nothing but a child playing at rebellion."

Eliza stood tall, feeling the weight of her destiny settle into her bones. "I am a queen," she said, her voice hard as steel. "And I will take back what was stolen from me."

Without warning, Julian lunged at her, his sword raised high. The clang of steel on steel rang out as Eliza parried his blow, the force behind it almost knocking her off her feet. The prince was strong, his skill with a blade undeniable. But Eliza was faster. She had trained for this, and every ounce of her strength was now focused on defeating him.

She blocked another strike, and then, with a swift movement, drove her sword forward, catching him off guard. The tip of her blade scraped across his armor, but she didn't stop there. She knew this fight was more than just about a crown. It was about her future, about the kingdom she would rebuild.

Julian stumbled back, his eyes flashing with rage. "You're nothing without me. You always were."

Eliza didn't respond. Instead, she pressed forward, her heart burning with the knowledge that this battle wasn't just for her—it was for everyone who had ever been oppressed, for every soul crushed under the Duke's rule.

"Your reign ends tonight," Eliza said quietly.

With one final, decisive strike, Eliza disarmed Julian, sending his sword clattering to the ground. His breath came in ragged gasps as he stared at her, his face twisted in disbelief.

"You... you can't..." he gasped.

Eliza stepped forward, her sword at his throat. "The throne doesn't belong to you. Not anymore."

For a moment, everything stood still. The rebels, the Duke's men, the distant sound of the storm—everything was silent, as if the world itself was waiting for the final word.

"Leave," Eliza said, her voice unwavering. "Return to your master. And never come for me again."

Julian's gaze flicked to his soldiers, then back to her. With a final, venomous look, he turned and signaled his men to retreat, his pride shattered. He was no longer a prince in her eyes, but just another broken man.

As the battle began to wind down, the remaining Duke's soldiers saw their leader retreat and began to disperse. The rebels surged forward, reclaiming the pass. Eliza's chest heaved with exhaustion, but there was no time to rest. The war was far from over. The real fight for her kingdom had only just begun.