Page 12 of The Rivaled Crown (The Veiled Kingdom #3)

CHAPTER 12

DACRE

T he weight of Verena’s body in my arms was all I could feel, all I could breathe, all I could think about as we ran.

She was too still. Too limp.

Her head lay slack against my shoulder, her body frighteningly light, her breaths shallow and uneven. I pressed my palm against her chest, needing to feel the rise and fall, needing proof that she was still breathing. But the magic beneath her skin was erratic, thrashing one moment, terrifyingly faint the next.

I had seen her fight. Had seen her break free of her father’s grasp, had watched her unleash magic powerful enough to crack the very foundation of the palace. But now, that power felt like it had turned on her. She was slipping through my fingers.

Not again. Not this time.

“Faster,” I snarled, my legs burning as I pushed harder, lungs straining with every breath. Wren and Kai were ahead, moving like shadows through the crumbling halls, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off Verena.

The walls trembled, groaning under the weight of what she had done. Dust rained from the ceiling, choking me as we ran, and behind us, the deep, earth-rattling roar of stone breaking swallowed everything else.

My hands shook, holding on to her like she was the only thing anchoring me to this world.

Her magic pulsed again, wild and restless, as if it didn’t know whether to die out or erupt. The sharp flicker of it sent a tremor through my fingers, and she whimpered softly against my chest.

It was a small sound, fragile, pain-racked, and it gutted me.

Her magic moved beneath her skin, flickered hot and cold, shifting unpredictably, as if it didn’t belong solely to her anymore.

I gritted my teeth, a cold weight settling in my chest. What had he done to her?

Her father had spoken of the vessel, of how Verena had responded to it and it to her. I had seen its power as it rolled across the surface, seeming to devour everything in its path. It was like it was devouring her, coiling inside her like a living nightmare.

But what I hadn’t felt until now was that it hadn’t just taken from her, it had left something behind.

A scar. A presence. Something that didn’t belong.

I couldn’t begin to imagine the agony she had endured. The way he had torn her apart piece by piece, the way the vessel had tried to reshape her into something else.

A sickness curled in my gut.

She had fought against him, fought against what he wanted, but even now, even after breaking free, she wasn’t entirely free.

I glanced at Wren. Her fingers clutched her side, blood seeping between them, but she didn’t falter. Kai kept close to her, his arm a quiet anchor at her back bearing most of her weight, his magic still thrumming faintly in the air, a dull, pulsing heartbeat against the quiet.

Her gaze flickered to Verena. I saw it, the fear, the weight of everything that had happened.

I wasn’t the only one shaken.

“How much farther?” I forced the words out, but my throat felt tight. The storm inside me hadn’t settled. It had only grown darker, heavier. A violent, relentless thing.

“Not far,” Micah said from behind me, his voice strained. “Just down this hall, then right into the tunnels.”

I barely looked at him as my grip tightened around Verena, holding her closer.

We had to get her out. Now.

We tore around the corner, desperation sinking into our bones, and then we stopped short.

Half a dozen guards blocked the hallway, swords glinting under the uneven torchlight. The air shifted instantly, thickening with the promise of violence.

“Shit,” Wren cursed, and she didn’t hesitate to pull her dagger from its sheath.

The first blade swung, catching the light as it arced toward Kai and Wren. Kai surged forward, magic crackling like lightning as he threw up a shield just in time. Micah was already moving, ducking beneath a swinging sword and driving his dagger deep into a guard’s gut.

The air sang with the whistle of a blade slicing toward Micah’s throat. He barely had time to jerk sideways, the steel grazing past his ear.

“Fucking traitor,” the guard spat, fury twisting his face as he lunged again, blade aimed to kill.

Micah caught his wrist mid-strike, his grip unrelenting. His dagger plunged deep, twisting with a brutal precision that sent the guard’s breath stuttering out in a choked gasp. Blood seeped between Micah’s fingers as he yanked his blade free.

Another guard surged toward Wren, sword raised, but Kai was already moving.

Magic roared, a wave of power slamming into the guards, and they staggered back, steel scraping against stone.

But it wasn’t enough.

They were already recovering, charging at us again.

I refused to let Verena get caught in another fight. Not after everything she had already given. Not after everything they had taken from her.

With a snarl, I lowered her carefully to the ground, pressing one final, steadying hand against her chest before I turned. My dagger was already in my hand as I twisted, just as a blade came slashing toward me.

Steel screamed against steel as I caught the strike, shoving back with brutal force.

“You’re not taking the heir from the palace,” the guard growled, his voice dripping with venom. The word heir slid from his tongue like a curse, like Verena was nothing more than a title, a pawn in a game her father was playing with all of our lives.

Red-hot rage ignited inside me.

I shoved hard, forcing his blade wide. My knee drove into his ribs, cracking against bone. He gasped, staggering back, and I didn’t hesitate. I twisted behind him, catching the back of his neck in an unyielding grip.

“She’s not your fucking heir,” I snarled into his ear, my voice laced with pure fury. “She’s my mate.”

The guard jerked just as my blade carved through his throat. There was a wet, gurgling gasp, a spray of blood, before his body slumped, lifeless, and I let him fall.

Another lunged at me, and I turned at the last second, my dagger snapping up to catch the blade meant to split me apart, the force vibrating through my bones.

The guard’s blade scraped across my shoulder, slicing through fabric and skin, pain searing like fire licking through my veins. I gritted my teeth and ignored the pain, ignored the warm trickle of blood running down my arm.

I had fought a thousand battles before this, had faced worse odds, had spilled more blood than I could count, but this was different.

This wasn’t a fight to survive.

I was fighting for her.

For Verena, who lay limp against the stone, her breaths shallow, too faint, too fragile.

For Wren, who bled freely from the gash along her ribs but fought like she didn’t feel it, her dagger flashing, her jaw set with ruthless determination.

For Kai, who had pushed himself beyond exhaustion, his magic flickering at his fingertips like the last embers of a dying fire. His skin was pale, his breath ragged, but still, he fought.

This was my family.

And I would burn the world for them.

I would give everything.

Micah cut his way toward the tunnel entrance, his blade carving through flesh with brutal efficiency. Another guard lunged for him, but he pivoted sharply, dodging the strike before plunging his dagger into the man’s side.

There were only two left between us and the tunnels, but the weight of time pressed against me, each second stretching, suffocating, closing in like a tightening noose.

Behind me, Verena let out a broken, breathless gasp, and something inside me snapped.

I turned so fast the world blurred. My hands found the nearest guard, fingers locking around his skull. Before he could react, I slammed him into the wall. Bone shattered beneath my grip, the sickening crack reverberating through my body. He crumpled, lifeless, before I had even registered his death.

The last guard turned toward Wren, and he didn’t see me coming. I moved in the space between heartbeats, my fingers brushing the nape of his neck, warm, living flesh, before I wrapped my hands around it fully and twisted. His spine snapped beneath my hands. A chilling, final sound that I felt through my whole body.

I let him go and turned back to her, already moving before his body hit the ground. I dropped to my knees, gathering Verena back into my arms, curling her against my chest as if I could shield her from everything that had already been done.

My chest burned as I pushed forward, sprinting for the tunnels, the weight of her in my arms grounding me, even as everything inside me begged to break apart.

“Move!” I snarled, my voice razor-sharp. Wren glanced at me, her concern flickering in the dim light, but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

We barreled into the hidden passage, Micah at the lead, his breath coming fast and uneven. The damp stone walls pressed in around us, our footsteps muffled yet urgent, swallowed by the darkness that stretched ahead.

The palace, the battle, the screams, it all faded behind us, the only sound now the shallow, uneven breaths rasping against my throat.

I bent my head, pressing my lips to the crown of her head, trying to anchor myself in the warmth of her skin, the fact that she was still breathing. Still here.

“We’re almost there,” I whispered, barely recognizing the rawness in my own voice. I needed to heal her, to check her for every wound her father had inflicted, to ensure that she was still whole. But we couldn’t stop. Not yet.

The tunnel stretched endlessly before us, longer than I remembered, each step dragging, each turn pressing like an iron weight against my ribs. My patience thinned to a fragile thread. I wanted out. I wanted distance. I wanted her safe.

I wanted to be able to breathe.

Micah slowed as the tunnel constricted, the walls pressing in, the air thick with damp earth. I gritted my teeth. We were moving too slow, the tunnel too tight. It was all too fucking dangerous.

The passage funneled into a narrow throat of stone, forcing Micah onto his knees. He crawled forward, vanishing into the darkness ahead.

I exhaled sharply and jerked my chin at Wren. Go.

She hesitated for only a fraction of a second before dropping into the tight space, following him. I reached the tunnel’s mouth just as Micah turned back, his hands extended toward me. Toward Verena.

“I’ve got her,” he said, and my grip tightened around her, a sharp, instinctive refusal clawing up my throat.

No.

Micah’s jaw tensed. “You’re going to hurt her.” His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it now, something taut beneath the words. “Just hand her to me until you can get out.”

I didn’t trust him. I would never trust him again, but I wasn’t blind. I was too big for the tunnel. I couldn’t carry her through without jarring her already battered body.

Every muscle in me screamed against it, but I forced myself to move.

Carefully, so fucking carefully, I lifted her, my hands reluctant as I placed her into his waiting arms. He gripped her firmly, and I scrambled out after them, my chest tight until I had her back, until she was in my arms again.

Micah exhaled sharply, but I didn’t look at him. I didn’t care about whatever thoughts lurked behind his dark, unreadable eyes.

I only cared about her.

I turned my gaze and took a deep breath as Kai emerged from the tunnel.

We were out, but we weren’t safe. The priority now was to reach the hidden city. My father’s mistrust weighed heavily, but the hidden city was the only place I had where I stood a chance in keeping her safe.

“You’re going back to the city?” I asked Micah, trying to think back to the plan we had made the night before.

He nodded. “I need to warn the others,” he said. “The rebels in the city need to know what happened tonight. The war…” His gaze flickered to Verena. “It’s coming faster than any of us thought.”

“My grandmother…”

“I’ll have her with me,” he assured, his voice tinged with urgency.”She’s no longer safe in the city. She never has been.”

“Thank you.” I gave him a stiff nod and adjusted Verena in my arms. “We’ll see you in the hidden city.”

Micah glanced at Verena before he looked to my sister, and his features were tight with regret as he disappeared into the darkness.

Kai muttered a curse, glancing back toward the tunnel. “We should keep moving. We need to get as far away from the capital as possible.”

I didn’t argue.

We were all bleeding, all exhausted, and Verena…

She hadn’t spoken, had barely moved since we left the palace, and that terrified me.

So I held her close and let the world blur past us as we ran.

Branches tore at my skin, brambles slicing through my already torn uniform, but I didn’t stop. The only thing that mattered was the weight in my arms, the shallow rise and fall of Verena’s breath against my chest.

We didn’t stop, even as Wren whimpered, and Kai lifted her in his arms. We kept going, and by the time the hidden city came into view, my legs were threatening to give out.

There should have been dread as we entered the city, but the sight of it sent a wave of relief crashing over me.

They were waiting for us.

Figures stood near the entrance, their weapons raised, expressions wary as they caught sight of us emerging from above ground. A murmur rippled through them, and then they shifted, some stepping forward, others stepping back as if uncertain whether to let us through.

Then Liya was there, pushing past the others, her face pale as she took in Wren’s injuries, the blood staining my uniform, and the limp weight of Verena in my arms.

“Get the council,” she demanded, panic creeping into her voice. “Now!”

The tension was instant, sharp, the air thickening around us.

I pushed past them all and moved to the street, the stone beneath me unforgiving as I slowly lowered Verena from my arms. I barely noticed the crowd pressing in, barely heard the whispers, the shuffling of boots as the people of the rebellion gathered around us.

The only thing I could hear was her shallow breathing.

I gently laid her down before me, my hands pressing against the cold stone as I hovered over her.

“Verena,” I rasped, but she didn’t stir.

The bond between us flickered, a dim thread, barely there. Her magic was still unsettled, thrumming erratically beneath her skin. She was alive, but I had no idea how badly her father had hurt her.

I brushed the damp hair from her face, my pulse thundering in my ears. Then, I pressed my hands to her ribs, to the fragile, struggling rise and fall of her chest, and I reached for my magic.

Golden light flickered at my fingertips. A sharp gasp rippled through the onlookers, but I ignored their unease. I poured my magic into her, coaxing warmth back into her skin, urging her body to heal, to fight.

“Come on, Verena,” I whispered, my forehead pressing against hers. “Come back to me.”

I focused on that bond that had tethered us together from the start. I pressed against it, begged it, and then—a spark.

A sharp, sudden pull.

My magic twisted as her body tensed, her back arching off the ground as her breath came in a shuddered gasp. A violent pulse of energy lashed out from her, slipping through that bond I had just been focusing on, and suddenly, the magic that I had been feeding into her was no longer mine to give.

My body seized as a force stronger than anything I’d ever felt surged through me, ripping my magic away in brutal waves. I gasped, but I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

She was taking from me.

Siphoning.

A strangled noise escaped my lips as my limbs weakened, my vision darkening at the edges. The warmth I had been feeding into her bled from me now, and I could hardly register the shouts that rang out around us, the gasps, the distinct ring of weapons being drawn.

Liya staggered back, eyes wide with shock. A murmur rushed through the rebels like wildfire.

I couldn’t turn, couldn’t even lift my head, and I barely registered Kai cursing, barely heard Wren shouting my name.

All I could feel was the crushing, suffocating drain of my magic leaving me, slipping through my fingers like water I couldn’t hold on to.

Until Verena’s eyes flew open.

A sharp, broken gasp wrenched from her throat as she came back to herself, her magic snapping back, pulling away as if it suddenly feared me, and then she met my gaze.

The horror on her face hit me like a dagger to the gut.

“No…” The word trembled past her lips, and her magic snapped like a severed cord under her command.

I collapsed forward, catching myself before my body crashed into hers. I felt hollow, drained.

She was waking up to chaos, to the weight of her power pressing down on everyone around us, to the entire rebellion watching.

Verena scrambled back on trembling limbs, her movements frantic and unsteady. Her breathing was ragged and uneven as she stared at me with her eyes stretched wide in terror.She didn’t look away from me.

“Dacre,” she choked out, her voice quivering with fear.

“It’s okay,” I rasped, forcing myself upright. My limbs felt like lead, my head spinning, but I didn’t stop. “You’re okay.”

Her hands curled into fists against the stone, and she shook her head wildly. “No,” she insisted, her voice a mixture of disbelief and certainty. Her eyes darted around us, wide and frantic. “I took from you. I…”

“Verena, stop.” I reached for her, brushing my fingers lightly against her, and she flinched.

Something splintered inside me as I watched her.

Her magic quivered in the air between us, wild and erratic, like a beast that had broken free of its chains. She was still too weak to control it, and I could see it in her eyes. She was terrified of herself.

She was caught in a battle between her power and her fear, and all I could do was watch as it tore her apart.

“You didn’t mean to,” I murmured, carefully keeping my voice steady and soothing. I started to reach out for her, my hand moving slowly through the air, but I hesitated and pulled back when I noticed the fear grow in her eyes. “We’ll figure this out. Together,” I assured her, my words a promise as solid as the ground beneath us.

“She’s dangerous!” The words hit like a blade to my spine.

Verena flinched, curling further into herself. Her breathing was ragged, her hands trembling against the stone as if she were trying to make herself smaller, as if she could disappear beneath the weight of their stares.

“She’s just like the king,” another voice carried through the street, and the dam broke, rushing over us all.

Fear seeped through the gathered rebels, their hesitation souring into something worse. Their whispers turned to murmurs, their murmurs to voices.

“She siphoned from him.”

“She took his power.”

“She’s a siphon. A true siphon.”

“Like him.”

Like him.

I heard the words, felt them pulse through the crowd, rippling outward in an unstoppable wave.

They feared her.

Not just my father, not just the council, not just the warriors who stood closest to us gripping their swords. It was all of them.

I saw it in Liya’s sharp inhale, in the way she took half a step back. I saw it in the way Kai shifted, his body tensing, his gaze darting between the rebellion leaders like he was bracing for the inevitable. I saw it in Wren, the way her bloodied hands curled into fists like she wanted to reach for her daggers even though she was in no state to do so.

Verena could feel it too.

She turned her head slowly, her wide, shattered eyes flickering over the faces of the people before her. The people who had no idea how badly she had suffered to fight against her father. The people who now looked at her as if she were a monster.

I reached for her, no hesitation this time, no care about the fear she had over hurting me. I pulled her back against me, shielding her, curling my body around hers as if I could somehow protect her from the weight of what had just happened.

She had fought against her father, against the vessel, against the very magic that belonged to her.

But this was the battle she could not win.

Because the rebellion wasn’t looking at her like she was one of them. They were looking at her like she was him, like she was her father’s heir after all.

The words I wanted to say stuck in my throat, useless. Nothing I said would stop the way the fear festered. Nothing I said would undo what they had seen.

And then, through the murmurs, through the suffocating weight of fear pressing in on us from all sides, I saw him.

My father stood at the back of the crowd, standing just beyond the others, and he watched.

His gaze wasn’t on our people. It wasn’t on the council, or even on me.

It was on her.

He was staring at Verena as if he were already calculating his next move.

As if he had just seen something that changed everything.

As if he had just won.