The World Cannot Know

Chapter 61

Prince Sebastian

The throne room was a storm of steel and shouting. We had made it through the doors—but barely. The resistance inside was fiercer than we'd anticipated. Gregory's men had dug in, and their defense was merciless.

Hector and I fought side by side, blades flashing in torchlight, but for every guard we struck down, two more seemed to rise. Blood spattered across the marble floor. One of our men fell with a cry behind us—another dragged to the ground before I could get to him.

"Fall back!" Hector shouted, parrying a blow that nearly split my side open. "We're too exposed!"

I cursed, stepping back as a halberd swept past me. "We were supposed to be the surprise."

"They were ready," Hector growled. "Gregory was waiting for us."

We retreated to the corridor just outside the throne room, the heavy doors slamming behind us as one of our remaining soldiers shoved them shut. They thudded against the frame, and silence descended—tense, thick with the stench of sweat and blood.

I leaned against the wall, trying to catch my breath. "This isn't how it was supposed to go."

"He's rallied more support than we thought," Hector said. "We need backup or we'll die before we set foot in that chamber again."

A sudden shout echoed from the corridor ahead.

"Movement!" one of our men called out, raising his sword.

Boots thundered on the stone floor—and then, through the haze of tension, familiar voices rang out.

Clive appeared first, his coat bloodied, sword in hand, flanked by Marcus and at least two dozen of our fighters. Arney was right behind them, blades in both hands, face split in a reckless grin.

"Did someone call for a miracle?" Clive barked, eyes sweeping the corridor.

"You're late," Hector growled—but relief softened his tone.

Marcus clapped my shoulder hard enough to rattle my teeth. "Sorry, we ran into a little welcoming committee at the eastern gate. But we cleared a path."

I turned to him, breath catching. "Matthew?"

Marcus gave a short nod, sweat streaking down his temple. "Safe, tucked away Louie."

Relief punched through my chest so hard it nearly knocked the breath from me. I hadn't let myself think of them, not really—not while steel was in my hand and blood on the floor. But knowing they were safe... gods, it gave me strength.

"Louie's alright?" I asked again, needing to hear it twice.

Marcus smiled, faint but real. "Sleeping like a prince."

Clive stepped beside us, glancing toward the sealed throne room doors. "Touching reunion. But we've got a traitor to gut."

Arney let out a grunt of agreement, wiping blood from his chin with the back of his hand. "I didn't ride all this way to miss that bastard Gregory squeal."

Hector crossed to us, blade still slick. "They've bolted the doors from the inside. But it's not going to hold. Not now that we've got numbers."

"We're going to have to force it," I said, eyes narrowing at the thick wooden arch. "Marcus, you take the left flank. Clive, take the corridor to the right—flush out any hidden support."

Clive gave a mock salute. "With pleasure."

Hector gripped the hilt of his sword tighter. "And if Gregory has the king?"