Chapter 4 - A Kingdom Divided
By noon, Valeria had split in two.
Royal banners appeared from apartment windows, university towers, factory gates, and village churches. Crowds gathered in the capital, chanting Adrian’s name. Old soldiers brought medals from locked drawers and pinned them to faded uniforms.
The council declared the broadcast fraudulent.
Then General Marcus Renn, commander of the Northern Army, appeared on national television and swore loyalty to the king.
Three military bases followed.
The council closed the bridges into the capital.
The stock market stopped trading.
Banks limited withdrawals.
Rumors spread faster than official statements.
Some claimed Arthur had ten thousand soldiers hidden beyond the northern mountains. Others claimed he was already dead and the broadcast had been generated by foreign agents. One popular rumor insisted he had lived for twenty years in a monastery where he learned to command wolves.
Clara remained confined inside Whitmore House.
Damian called it protective custody.
The guards at every door made it feel like imprisonment.
Her phone had been taken. The household internet was disconnected. Even the staff had been replaced by council agents.
Evelyn spent hours in private meetings with Conrad and government officials.
No one asked Clara’s opinion.
Near midnight, she entered her father’s old study.
The room had remained locked since his death five years earlier, but Clara knew where he had hidden the spare key. As a child, she had often found him there staring into the fireplace, holding a glass of brandy he rarely drank.
She searched his desk.
Most drawers contained correspondence, tax documents, and photographs.
The bottom drawer was locked.
Clara used a letter opener to force it.
Inside lay a red leather journal.
The first pages contained ordinary notes about business meetings. Halfway through, the handwriting changed. Lines became hurried. Words were crossed out.
Fire Night was not a rebellion.
The sentence made Clara sit down.
She continued reading.
Her father had served as a junior minister at the time of the palace attack. According to the journal, the council families had planned to force King Lucien to abdicate after he threatened to nationalize wartime industries and investigate corruption.
They intended a bloodless coup.
But someone altered the plan.
The palace gates were opened.
Armed men entered.
The king and queen were killed.
The young prince vanished.
Clara turned the page.
Evelyn knows who gave the final order.
Her hands began to shake.
A sound came from the doorway.
She closed the journal.
Evelyn stood there.
For a long moment, they looked at one another.
“You should not be in this room,” Evelyn said.
“You knew.”
“Give me the journal.”
“You knew who killed them.”
Evelyn stepped inside and closed the door.
“Your father wrote many things when he was ill.”
“This was written fifteen years before he became ill.”
“Clara.”
“Who gave the order?”
Evelyn’s gaze moved toward the red journal.
“Your uncle.”
The answer came so quietly that Clara almost missed it.
“Conrad?”
“He was not supposed to be involved. None of us were. My father and the other council heads planned to pressure the king. Conrad hired men without telling them.”
“Why?”
“Because King Lucien had discovered the shipping routes Conrad used for weapons. If the investigation became public, Conrad would have been executed.”
Clara stood.
“And you protected him.”
“I protected this family.”
“You protected a murderer.”
“I was twenty-six years old. Your father and I had been married for less than a year. Conrad showed me documents proving that if the truth emerged, every Whitmore company would collapse. Thousands would lose their jobs. Your grandfather would go to prison. Your father would be charged as a conspirator.”
“So you chose silence.”
“I chose survival.”
“For twenty years?”
Evelyn’s eyes flashed.
“You speak like survival is shameful because you have never had to earn it.”
Clara lifted the journal.
“Arthur’s parents died because of us.”
“Not because of you.”
“He thinks our family did it.”
“He is correct.”
Clara felt as if the floor had tilted beneath her.
“Why did you let me invite him here?”
“I needed to know how much he knew.”
“You used me.”
“I tried to save you.”
“By handing him to the council?”
Evelyn’s silence answered.
Clara moved toward the door.
Her mother blocked her path.
“Where are you going?”
“To tell the truth.”
“To whom? The streets? The newspapers? Adrian?”
“His name is Arthur.”
“No. Arthur was the mask he wore to reach you.”
Clara gripped the journal.
“He protected me when the shots came.”
“Because you are useful alive.”
“That is what you need me to believe.”
Evelyn’s expression changed.
For one moment, the fury disappeared, leaving only fear.
“You do not understand what Conrad will do if he learns you found that journal.”
“He is my uncle.”
“He murdered a king.”
The words silenced them both.
Footsteps sounded in the corridor.
Evelyn seized Clara’s shoulders.
“Listen to me. Hide the journal. Say nothing. Tomorrow, Damian will take you to the Calder estate. You will remain there until this ends.”
“I am not marrying him.”
“This is no longer about marriage.”
The study door opened.
Conrad entered.
Behind him stood two armed guards.
He smiled.
“What are you discussing?”
Evelyn released Clara.
“Family history.”
Conrad’s gaze dropped to the journal.
His smile remained.
But his eyes became empty.
“Give me that, Clara.”
She stepped backward.
A crash came from the windows.
Smoke filled the room.
The lights died.
A figure in black dropped from the balcony, struck the nearest guard, and drove him into the wall. A second figure disarmed the other guard before Conrad could shout.
Clara felt an arm circle her waist.
She fought until a familiar voice spoke beside her ear.
“Please do not hit me with the royal evidence.”
Arthur.
She turned.
He wore black combat clothing and a half-mask. A fresh cut crossed his cheek.
“You came back.”
“I said I would explain.”
Gunfire erupted in the corridor.
Arthur pulled her toward the balcony.
Evelyn caught Clara’s wrist.
“Do not go with him.”
Arthur aimed his pistol at the doorway but looked at Evelyn.
“You have three seconds to decide which side of history you wish to survive.”
Conrad drew a gun from his jacket.
Evelyn saw it first.
She shoved Clara away.
The shot struck Evelyn in the shoulder.
Clara screamed.
Arthur fired.
Conrad fell behind the desk.
More guards rushed into the hallway.
Arthur lifted Evelyn with one arm and pulled Clara toward the balcony.
“Why are you saving her?” Clara cried.
“Because you love her.”
A rope descended from the roof.
Arthur fastened a harness around Clara as bullets tore through the windows.
Below them, Crown Square swarmed with council vehicles.
Above them, a black helicopter emerged from the smoke.
Arthur looked at Clara.
“Do you trust me?”
“No.”
May you like
“Good. Trust is making both of us careless.”
He pushed them from the balcony.
