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“We need to push them back,” Anderic declared. “Coordinate with Duke Eldrick’s forces.”

We rejoined the battle with renewed vigor. The tide had turned. Darian’s men broke ranks, retreating toward the breaches. The Elentharian forces, seeing Prince Callum fleeing, began a disorganized retreat.

Only the Red Cross gang fought on with the determination of men with nothing to lose. I spotted their leader, Red, cutting down three of our soldiers with brutal efficiency.

Then Anderic was there, golden armor shining like a beacon. The two clashed in a spectacular display of swordsmanship that drew all eyes.

Red was good—vicious and unpredictable. But Anderic was better, his technique honed by years of royal training. When Red attempted a deceptive feint, Anderic anticipated it, driving his sword through the mercenary’s heart.

“For Aetheria,” Anderic declared, pulling his blade free as Red collapsed.

The remaining gang members, seeing their leader fall, finally broke and ran.

“We’ve won,” I realized, watching the enemy retreat through the breaches they’d created.

“Not yet,” Anderic replied grimly. “Where’s Chancellor Darian?”

* * *

The palace throne room should have been a sanctuary, but even here, the battle had left its mark. Tapestries torn, furniture overturned, guards lying dead at their posts.

“Father!” Noah’s voice echoed as he embraced Duke Eldrick. “Thank God you came.”

“When I received Prince Anderic’s message, I rallied the other dukes,” Eldrick explained. “We couldn’t let the capital fall.”

“Has anyone seen the King?” Lennox demanded, bloodied but still standing.

A cold feeling crept up my spine. “Where is His Majesty?”

“The royal chambers,” Queen Felicia said, a thin line of blood trailing from her temple. “We were fighting side by side when we got separated. He was heading there with his personal guard when the east wing was breached.”

Anderic was already moving. “Lennox, with me. The rest of you, secure the throne room.”

“I’m coming too,” I insisted, following before he could protest.

The royal wing was eerily quiet after the chaos of battle. Too quiet. The doors to the King’s chambers stood ajar, the guards outside lying in pools of blood.

“Ambush,” Lennox whispered, drawing his sword.

Anderic pushed the door open slowly. Inside, more bodies—the King’s personal guard, dispatched with cold efficiency. And there, struggling with King Arnald near the royal bed, was Chancellor Darian Thornwood, trying to maintain his grip on a dagger pressed to the King’s throat.

Despite a bleeding gash across his shoulder and his formal attire torn from combat, King Arnald was hardly submissive. His muscular arm strained against Darian’s wrist, keeping the blade from pressing deeper, while his free hand gripped the Chancellor’s arm.

“One step closer, and His Majesty joins his ancestors,” Darian warned, his cultured voice strained with effort as he fought to control the still-resisting monarch.

King Arnald, jaw clenched with determination, met his son’s gaze. “Anderic.”

“Father.” Anderic lowered his sword slightly. “Chancellor, you’ve lost. Your allies flee. Surrender now, and you may yet keep your head.”

Darian laughed, a hollow sound. “Surrender? To be executed for treason? I think not, Your Highness.”

“What did you hope to achieve?” I asked, inching slowly to the left while keeping his attention. “Even if you’d taken the city, the dukedoms would never have accepted your rule.”

“The dukedoms will fall in line when they see the economic advantages I offer,” Darian’s lip curled into a smirk. “Power comes in many forms—the crown, the sword, and the purse. I intend to control them all.”

I continued circling, looking for an opening. “Your ambition has always exceeded your ability, Chancellor.”

“Yet here I stand, with a blade to your king’s throat,” Darian countered. “Your father never understood the game we played. Always my rival, yet never my equal.”

My eyes narrowed at the mention of my father. “Leave him out of this.”

“Why should I? The fool made everything so convenient.” Darian’s smile was cruel. “When I learned he wanted to sabotage Earl Magnus, I couldn’t believe my luck.”

The King’s eyes widened slightly, but he remained focused on the dagger at his throat.

“Magnus was getting greedy,” Darian spat. “He was supposed to be my puppet in the Ministry of Revenue; he started threatening me for more money and more power. He needed to be removed, but I needed someone else to take the blame.”

Anderic shifted slightly, moving to flank Darian. “Keep talking, Chancellor. You’re only digging your grave deeper.”

Darian seemed beyond caring, his ego demanding an audience for his brilliance. “I had Gareth convince your father to hire the Red Cross. Your father merely wanted to discredit Magnus with a few gold bars. I arranged for a fortune to be discovered.”

In my past life, my father was executed for this scheme while the true architect walked free , I thought bitterly.

“Lord D’Arcane is an idiot,” Darian scoffed. “So blinded by affection for his precious daughter that he couldn’t see he was being used.”

While Darian was distracted by his gloating, the King suddenly drove his elbow hard into the Chancellor’s ribs. The knife slipped, cutting a shallow line across the King’s collarbone, but the distraction was enough. I lunged forward, knocking the dagger from Darian’s hand with a swift kick.

Anderic moved like lightning, tackling Darian to the ground. The Chancellor struggled, but Anderic flipped him onto his stomach, wrenching his arms behind his back.

“Chancellor Darian Thornwood,” Anderic said coldly, “you are under arrest for high treason against the Crown.”

Lennox quickly bound Darian’s hands while I helped the King to a chair.

“Are you alright, Your Majesty?” I asked, examining his wound.

“It’s nothing,” King Arnald said gruffly, his gaze fixed on the captured Chancellor. “Though I’m very interested in what our friend has revealed about Earl Bellrose and Marquess D’Arcane.”

“As am I,” I said, relief washing over me. This was the proof I needed—proof that while my father wasn’t innocent, he’d been manipulated and used.

Darian glared at me from where he knelt, restrained by Lennox and Anderic. “You think this changes anything?”

“It changes everything,” Anderic replied. “For you, especially.”

“Take him to the dungeons,” the King ordered. “I want guards on him at all times.”

As Lennox dragged Darian away, the Chancellor locked eyes with me. “This isn’t over, Lady D’Arcane.”

Later, as the sun set over a battered but unbowed Eldoria, I stood on the palace balcony watching the cleanup begin. The city had survived. We had survived. And now I had hope that my father might be spared the fate he met in my previous life.

Anderic joined me, freshly bathed and dressed in clean clothes, though exhaustion still lined his face. “Quite a day, Lady D’Arcane.”

“Indeed, Your Highness. Not quite how I imagined spending it when we set out from the northern border.”

“No regrets, I hope?” He leaned against the balustrade, his shoulder brushing mine.

I thought of Sebastian, alive and reunited with his friends. Of Noah and Rosalind tentatively finding their way back to each other. Of a city saved from destruction. Of my father, who might now have a chance.

“Not a single one,” I replied honestly.

His hand found mine, warm and solid. “Good. Because I have a feeling our adventures are just beginning.”