Vincent was staring down a dimly lit corridor while the sounds of chaos reverberated from the grand ballroom overhead. His thoughts were racing, but his breathing remained steady. The blade had grazed him just barely, and his assailant was still hidden in the shadows.
Taking hold of his dagger, Vincent felt comforted by the cool metal. He was now more than just the Crown Prince; he was the antagonist, and he had to make it through the evening.
The sound of footsteps padded softly, closer than before. Though his attacker was adept at disappearing into the shadows, Vincent had prepared for situations just like this. He could feel the minute changes in the atmosphere and the soft swaying of the cloth. Whoever it was, they were waiting for the ideal opportunity with patience.
"You're quick," Vincent said, breaking the quiet with his voice. "But you're not the first to try to kill me tonight."
A soft, predatory hiss of breath was all that was heard. There was no reply. The atmosphere grew more tense.
The figure then leapt out of the shadows with such blinding speed that their blade sliced through the air and toward Vincent's chest. But Vincent was prepared this time. He ducked under the blow, turning on his heel and slicing his attacker's arm with his dagger. The figure let out a sharp gasp as the blade made contact.
The hallway was reeking of blood.
Vincent whispered, "Impressive," as his eyes narrowed. "But you'll have to do better than that."
Vincent persisted as the figure withdrew, gripping their arm. He would not allow them to get away with it so easily. With a swift step forward and another slash, he drove his opponent back into the cramped hallway.
Abruptly, the attacker dropped a small, metallic object to the ground. The thing erupted in a cloud of smoke before Vincent could react, causing a dense, choking fog to descend upon the corridor.
Vincent coughed and pulled back, the smoke obscuring his vision. He heard footsteps moving backward, the figure disappearing into the shadows once more. His frustration was biting him. His assailant had managed to escape, albeit with some injuries. They would not succeed.
The pandemonium Vincent had left behind had only gotten worse as he entered the ballroom again. Fearful guests darted and whispered among themselves, not knowing what was going on, as the flickering lights created unsettling shadows throughout the grand hall. Thoughts of tension were evident as attendants hurried to restore order.
Vincent saw Cassandra right away; the sparkle of excitement in her eyes was barely hidden by her normally composed demeanor. She stood close to Commander Lysander, who had his sword hilt in his hand and appeared unusually alert. Something had also caught his attention.
Approaching them, Vincent looked around the space in search of Emelia Rose. He wasn't sure where she stood now that everything was falling apart, even though she had been essential to his plan. Nolan's ominous caution was still in effect.
Cassandra muttered, "We've lost control of the evening," in a tone that was slightly amused. "Someone appears to have made the decision to play a much bigger game."
Vincent corrected, his voice low. "Not someone." "Many individuals. And this evening, they're moving.
Lysander made a grunt. "Your Highness, we're not the only ones with guns. Other factors are at work.
Vincent gave a nod. "I am aware. I was assaulted in the hallway.
Cassandra's eyes, which were the only sign of surprise, widened slightly. "By whom?"
Keeping his voice steady, Vincent answered, "I couldn't see them." However, they won't go very far. Before more chaos spreads, we must secure this gala.
Lysander looked around the ballroom. "I'll take care of the security," he declared, gesturing for his men to advance. "We cannot afford for this to happen again."
Cassandra leaned closer to Vincent as Lysander moved away. "We have to think fast. Emelia Rose might not be safe.
Vincent had a worried twinkle in his eyes. Everything he'd built tonight could fall apart if Emelia had been the target of someone's attack. She was vital to his plans.
"I'll locate her," declared Vincent. "And we'll end this game when I do."
Vincent hurried through the now-shattered ballroom, his heart pounding. In the chaos, Emelia had vanished. His mind raced, wondering if she was really part of the plot or just a victim.
Pushing through the crowd, he looked around for her. Rather, he happened to cross paths with Nolan Graeme, who was standing idly by the balcony, seemingly unconcerned by the chaos going on around them.
"I told you it would be interesting tonight," Nolan uttered without looking at him. "However, even I wasn't prepared for it to get this bad."
Vincent balled his hands. "What happened to Emelia?"
Nolan laughed and turned to look at him with that annoying smile. For now, somewhere secure. But not for very long.
"What are your knowledges?" Vincent stepped forward and demanded, his tone dark and dangerous.
Nolan's expression darkened and his smile vanished. Vincent, Emelia is more than just a pawn. She is a part of something much greater than yourself, something for which you were unprepared.
With a cold realization, Vincent's heart fell. Does she have a target?
Slowly, Nolan nodded. Furthermore, she is not alone. There are those present this evening who desire the dissolution of the royal family. And they will begin by taking out those who are nearest to the throne.
Vincent's heartbeat accelerated. Not only was Emelia in danger, but she was also the target of a plot to have her killed.
"Where is she now?" With a growing lack of patience, Vincent snarled.
Nolan sighed after pausing momentarily. "She was last observed close to the gardens. Please take caution, Your Highness. It's not just you who's searching for her.
Vincent turned and went toward the gardens without waiting another second, his thoughts racing. He needed to get to Emelia before everyone else did, before the events of the evening got out of hand.
In contrast to the pandemonium within the ballroom, the outside air was colder and the gardens were strangely silent. Vincent walked quickly, the cobblestone paths barely audible under his feet. Even though the lanterns' gentle glow illuminated his path, shadows remained everywhere he looked.
His heart skipped a beat when he heard the slight rustle of fabric. As he rounded a corner, he caught sight of Emelia Rose, standing by herself next to a fountain, her exquisite gown glistening in the moonlight. She appeared calm, as though she had not been affected by the evening's events.
"Emelia!" With urgency in his voice, Vincent called out.
Slowly, she turned to look into his eyes. Her eyes had an odd expression on them; it wasn't fear. Something that made him uneasy.
She whispered, "I knew you would come," her voice echoing through the silent night.
Vincent rushed to her, but there was something about her posture that stopped him cold. She exuded a sense of finality, as though she was anticipating something or someone.
Vincent was about to inquire about her meaning when someone emerged from the shadows, holding a shining blade.