Chapter 1

Nyra Ashwyn hated carrying meals to the royal wing. It wasn't a difficult work. The trays weren't especially heavy, and the distance from the kitchens to the princess's chambers wasn't far. What Nyra hated was the silence.

The kitchens made sense. People shouted when they were angry, laughed when they were happy, and argued over things that rarely mattered. The royal wing was different. Everyone walked carefully and spoke as if someone important might be listening. Which, to be fair, was usually true.

Balancing a tray in both hands, Nyra made her way down the corridor lined with portraits of dead royals. Most of them looked disappointed. She wondered if that was a requirement for becoming king.

By the time she reached Princess Elysia Valmort's chambers, two guards stood outside the door. One of them recognized her and stepped aside. Nyra entered.

The princess sat near an open window with a book resting on her lap. Sunlight spilled across the room, illuminating the silver embroidery on her gown.

Elysia looked up. "You're late."

Nyra glanced at the clock mounted on the wall. "By two minutes."

"Still late." Elysia said

"I'll strive to do better." Nyra commented, stepping forward towards the princess's direction.

The princess narrowed her eyes. "You say that every time."

"And yet you keep believing me."

A smile tugged at Elysia's lips despite herself.

Nyra placed the tray on a nearby table. Unlike most servants, she had never learned how to pretend the princess was some perfect creature sent down by the gods. Elysia was kind enough, but she was also stubborn, curious, and occasionally impossible.

The princess closed her book. "How are the kitchens?"

"Hot." Nyra replied.

"I meant the people." Elysia continues

"Oh. Loud." Nyra replied without a second thought.

"That's more helpful." Elysia calmly spoke.

"They nearly started a war over missing cinnamon." Nyra added.

Elysia laughed. "A tragedy."

"The kingdom may never recover." Nyra turned to the princess after setting the table.

For a moment, the room felt normal. Then shouting echoed somewhere beyond the corridor. Both women looked toward the door. The sound came again. Louder this time.

Nyra frowned. That wasn't unusual palace noise.

That sounded like panic.

Elysia rose from her chair. "What's happening?"

Before Nyra could answer, the chamber doors burst open. One of the guards stumbled inside. His face had lost all color. "Your Highness, we need to move."

Elysia immediately straightened. "What happened?"

"The palace has been breached." The soldier replied in shaky voice.

The words landed heavily. Breached? The royal palace wasn't supposed to be breached. It was protected by hundreds of soldiers, fortified walls, and enough security to make ordinary citizens dizzy. Yet judging by the sounds outside, someone had managed it.

The guard moved toward the princess. "We must leave immediately."

Another crash echoed through the corridor. Then came the unmistakable sound of steel striking steel. Nyra felt unease settle in her stomach. Whoever was attacking wasn't hiding anymore.

They were already inside.

The second guard appeared at the doorway. "NOW!" he shouted.

The group rushed into the corridor. Servants scattered in every direction. Soldiers pushed forward. Orders flew from every corner.

The entire palace had descended into confusion. Nyra stayed close behind Elysia as they hurried toward a staircase.

A mistake!... Because in moments like these, chaos had a way of separating people. Someone slammed into Nyra's shoulder. She stumbled.

A soldier rushed between her and the princess. Then another. The crowd shifted. By the time Nyra regained her footing, Elysia was gone.

Not vanished. Simply swallowed by the sea of moving bodies.

"Princess!" she called.

No response. The hallway shook beneath a thunderous impact. Every head turned. At the far end of the corridor, smoke billowed through a shattered window.

Several soldiers lay sprawled across the floor. Others struggled to rise. A figure stepped through the haze. Dressed entirely in black, tall, calm, unhurried. The fighting around him seemed almost irrelevant.

Nyra couldn't see his face clearly from this distance, but something about him made the corridor fall silent. Even the soldiers hesitated.

The stranger surveyed the hallway. Not like a man entering enemy territory. But like a man inspecting property he already owned. More figures emerged behind him. A dozen at least.

Armed, organized and moving with purpose.

One of the palace guards suddenly froze. His eyes locked onto the broken crown embroidered across a black cloak. Then his gaze shifted to the silver mask covering half the stranger's face.

The color drained from him. "The Hollow Crown..." he whispered.

Another soldier heard him. A murmur spread through the corridor. Fear followed. Nyra couldn't understand why.

She had heard stories about the Hollow Crown, of course. Everyone had. But stories had a habit of growing larger each time they were told.

The stranger's gaze swept across the crowd. For a brief second, his eyes met hers. Then someone grabbed Nyra from behind. A cloth covered her mouth. She twisted violently, trying to break free. Voices blurred together. The corridor spun. Darkness rushed in from every side.

The last thing Nyra heard before consciousness slipped away was a man's voice. Calm and controlled. "Take her and go." Then everything disappeared.

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