Bound by blood & Ink

Untitled Part 10

That day, Alex worked tirelessly with the court, preparing for the royal family's arrival and organizing her father's funeral. Invitations were sent out, arrangements were planned, and countless details were scrutinized. Hard questions arose about her father's final wishes—questions Alex had no way of answering. Unable to reveal her lack of knowledge, she cobbled together decisions by combining the suggestions of others with the only funeral she had ever known, her mother's.

By the time the day ended, Alex was completely drained. Odessa escorted her back to her chambers, her tone soft but firm. "Ma'am, if I may, I know today has been overwhelming, but now that you're officially in this position, it would be wise to select your personal guards. I can't always be by your side." She smiled gently as they reached the room.

"Right... yeah," Alex replied with a tired yawn, her eyelids heavy. "Where would I even start?"

Odessa chuckled. "I'll send word to the academy and your forces. We'll gather the best candidates for tomorrow at the training grounds near the royal guard barracks."

Alex nodded absentmindedly, too tired to process the details. "Okay... goodnight."

She opened the door and shuffled toward her bed.

"Goodnight," Odessa replied, stepping in behind her. She moved to the balcony, drawing the curtains and closing the doors to shield Alex from the chill. By the time she turned back, Alex was already fast asleep, curled up in her bed. Odessa smiled softly. "Sleep well," she whispered before quietly closing the door behind her.

But Alex did not sleep well.

As soon as she drifted off, a nightmare consumed her. She was paralyzed, just like the morning in her room —unable to move, speak, or even open her eyes. Her father's furious shouts echoed endlessly, overlapping until they became deafening. Then came the high-pitched ringing, sharp and relentless.

A blinding flash of light snapped her into a new scene. She found herself low to the ground, like a creeping beetle, following four masked figures down an unfamiliar hallway. One of them withdrew a small pipe from his pocket, loaded with darts.

He crept to the corner, knelt, and fired. Two dull thuds followed. Alex crawled forward, finding two unconscious guards slumped against a wall. The intruders stepped over their bodies, heading for a grand wooden door with intricate golden carvings. They opened it and slipped inside.

Alex hurried after them, feeling her perspective shift. She was climbing the wall now, her vantage point rising as if she were no longer tied to the ground. Below her lay a spacious, luxurious bedroom—and someone unfamiliar sleeping soundly in the bed.

"Oh no," Alex whispered, though no sound escaped her. She recognized the count from the paintings in the hallways, lying beneath the covers.

The intruders advanced quietly, one of them pulling out a cloth soaked in something pungent. They approached the bed, but as the man pressed the cloth toward the count's face, he startled awake.

In an instant, the count sprang up, shoving the attacker aside. Grabbing a vase from the bedside table, he hurled it at another masked man. Glass shattered, and the intruders hesitated.

One of them drew a knife, but the count was faster, unsheathing a longsword from the wall. He held it steady, his voice commanding. "Try me."

The attackers hesitated, then one growled, "If you won't come with us willingly, you won't make it until morning sun."

A violent struggle erupted. The count moved like a man possessed, slashing and parrying against the outnumbering foes. He struck one down, blood spilling across the floor, but the others overpowered him. They pinned him to the ground, and Alex screamed, "No!" Yet no sound came.