Chapter 13 - The Dead PrincePrince Corvin looked nothing like a ghost.
He looked like a man who had enjoyed being dead.
His once-royal face was leaner now, weathered by exile, but his posture carried the same effortless entitlement as every portrait hanging in the palace’s east gallery. He wore a dark military coat without insignia. His hair was silver at the temples, his eyes the same pale blue as King Alaric’s.
Arabella lowered the pistol slightly, shock weakening her grip.
“Uncle Corvin.”
He smiled.
“My favorite niece. And on your wedding night, no less. Though I suppose the ceremony has been delayed.”
“You’re dead.”
“Officially. It has been restful.”
Tristan stood beside him, rubbing his wounded wrist. “I told you this was bigger than a servant’s sob story.”
Mara positioned herself in front of Noah.
Corvin noticed.
“Lady Evangeline Marrow. The kingdom’s most inconvenient corpse.”
Mara’s voice was steady. “You helped him.”
“I invested in him.”
“You murdered Clara Finch.”
Corvin sighed. “No. Tristan murdered Clara Finch. Young men with ambition are often messy. I merely helped transform his mistake into opportunity.”
Tristan’s jaw tightened at the insult.
Seraphina slipped slightly toward the boat.
Corvin’s eyes moved to her.
“Don’t run, Seraphina. Betrayal is more elegant when one survives it, but you were never that elegant.”
She froze.
Silas raised his pistol.
Corvin’s men emerged behind him, five at least, all armed.
The sea crashed below.
Noah whispered, “There are too many.”
Mara squeezed his hand.
Arabella lifted her chin. “What do you want?”
Corvin looked almost pleased by the question.
“The crown.”
The word landed plainly.
No theatrics.
No thunder needed.
Arabella’s face hardened. “My father is king.”
“Your father is tired. Too sentimental. Too fond of peace. He let merchants speak like nobles, servants marry above their station, northern houses complain, southern ports negotiate. The kingdom has become soft.”
“And you thought Tristan would help you fix that?”
“I thought Tristan would help me fund that.” Corvin glanced at him. “His usefulness has declined.”
Tristan turned sharply. “Careful.”
Corvin ignored him.
“To claim a throne, one needs money, soldiers, and legitimacy. The Vale alliance gave soldiers. Marrow gave money. Arabella’s marriage would have given legitimacy.”
Arabella’s eyes flashed.
“I was never marrying you.”
“Not me, dear girl. My instrument.”
Tristan’s face twisted.
Mara saw it then.
Tristan believed himself powerful, but Corvin saw him as a tool.
A dangerous tool, but still a tool.
That made him unstable.
And unstable men made mistakes.
Mara said, “If Noah dies, Marrow does not pass to Tristan.”
Corvin smiled. “Correct. It passes into crown dispute, where a restored monarchy under my authority can seize it for national protection.”
Noah went cold beside her.
“So either Tristan owns me,” he said quietly, “or you kill me.”
Corvin looked at him with mild interest.
“Clever boy.”
Mara’s vision narrowed.
Arabella aimed her pistol at Corvin’s chest.
“You will not touch him.”
Corvin’s smile faded.
“You sound like your mother when she was young. Before she learned that survival requires compromise.”
“My mother stepped in front of a bullet last night.”
“Yes. Guilt makes people theatrical.”
Arabella fired.
The shot hit the stone beside Corvin’s head.
His men raised weapons.
Silas fired immediately, striking one man’s shoulder. Chaos erupted in the cave.
Mara shoved Noah toward the boat.
“Run!”
Seraphina moved first, leaping onto the dock and untying the rope. Arabella fired again. Silas fought at the tunnel mouth. Bullets cracked against stone. The boat rocked violently as Noah scrambled inside.
Mara turned back.
Tristan was coming for her.
Not Noah.
Her.
His face was wild, furious, betrayed.
“You ruin everything,” he snarled.
Mara grabbed an oar from the dock and swung.
It struck his injured wrist. He cursed and stumbled, but caught the oar before she could swing again. He yanked it, pulling her toward him.
For one horrifying second, they were face to face.
Rain and sea spray on his skin.
Memory and hatred in hers.
“You loved me,” he whispered.
Mara looked into the eyes she had once trusted.
“I survived you.”
She drove her knee into his stomach.
He doubled over.
Noah screamed, “Mama!”
Corvin’s men pushed forward. Silas was bleeding badly now. Arabella had no bullets left. Seraphina shouted from the boat.
“Mara, now!”
Mara ran.
Tristan grabbed her ankle.
She fell hard onto the dock.
Noah lunged toward her, but Arabella caught him.
“No!”
Mara kicked Tristan’s face.
He released her.
She crawled toward the boat.
Then Corvin raised his pistol at Noah.
Everything slowed.
Mara saw the line of his arm.
The calm in his face.
The boy in the boat.
Her son.
She knew she would not reach him in time.
But someone else moved.
Seraphina stepped between Corvin and Noah.
The shot struck her.
Her body jerked.
She fell against the boat’s edge, eyes wide with surprise, as if betrayal had finally become too heavy to outrun.
Corvin cursed.
Mara grabbed the boat and pulled herself in.
Silas leapt after her.
Arabella cut the rope.
The boat shot backward into the dark water as waves seized it.
Tristan reached the edge of the dock, screaming.
Corvin stood behind him, pistol smoking.
Noah stared at Seraphina, who lay bleeding at his feet in the boat.
“Why did you do that?” he whispered.
Seraphina laughed weakly, blood on her lips.
“Insurance,” she said.
Then her eyes rolled back.
May you like
The boat vanished into the sea tunnel.
Behind them, Marrow House burned.
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