Chapter 7
A jarring rap on the door shattered the silence, jolting Aurelia from her chilling contemplation of the dead man. Her breath caught in her throat, a strangled cry trapped within her chest. Panic clawed at her, icy tendrils reaching out to constrict her heart.
She darted a frantic glance at the fallen figure, the crimson stain on his chest a gruesome testament to her mistake. Then, her gaze darted back towards the door, the brass knob jiggling precariously.
"Lord Arnold?!" a voice called from the other side, a hint of concern lacing the words. "The King has requested all Lords to convene in the courtroom immediately."
Lord Arnold? The confusion slammed into Aurelia like a physical blow. This… this pompous fop wasn't the King? Then who was he? And why hadn't he corrected her when she'd addressed him as "Your Majesty"?
A strangled sound escaped her lips, half gasp, half sob. The weight of her error crashed down upon her, suffocating. This wasn't vengeance; it was a blunder of epic proportions.
Another voice, gruff and authoritative, joined the first. "Perhaps the Lord isn't responding. Let me see if I can get the door open."
The sound of jingling keys followed, sending a fresh wave of panic surging through Aurelia. Trapped. She was trapped, with the bloody evidence of her mistake lying on the floor and the King's summons ignored because of a dead man impersonating nobility.
Without a second thought, Aurelia lunged towards the only escape route – a large window overlooking the sprawling gardens of the castle. Moonlight bathed the manicured lawns in an ethereal glow, but offered no comfort.
Scrambling onto the windowsill, her gown snagged on a protruding nail. A rip tore through the fabric, mirroring the one that had just been ripped through the fabric of her carefully laid plans. Ignoring the burning scrape on her skin, she pushed herself out of the window.
The cold stone pressed against Aurelia's back, a flimsy shield against the approaching chaos. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs, a deafening counterpoint to the frantic shouts echoing from the room. Moonlight cast long, skeletal shadows across the manicured gardens, offering no solace, only highlighting the stark reality of her situation.
A glance down at the ground revealed the sheer drop to the flowerbeds below – a distance that promised a painful landing, if not worse. The emerald gown, once a symbol of elegance, now hung in tatters, a physical manifestation of her shattered plans.
Disappointment from her aunt paled in comparison to the crushing weight of guilt that sat heavy in her stomach. She had come here as an avenger, not a murderer. This man, whoever he was, wasn't the target. He was just another pawn sacrificed on the chessboard of her vengeance.
Another guttural yell echoed from the room. "Get the guards! There's a murderer on the loose!"
Aurelia flinched. Murderer. The word echoed in her mind, a chilling reminder of the bloody stain on her hands. Her carefully crafted persona, the vengeful daughter, crumbled away, leaving behind a scared girl caught in a web of deceit.
The meeting with Gaius, the escape route planned after the deed was done - all of it seemed like a distant dream. Reaching the fountain now felt like an impossible feat, a desperate hope lost in the rising tide of pursuit.
Just as she contemplated her next move, a misstep found her losing her precarious balance. A gasp tore from her throat, filled with a mixture of terror and despair. The ground rushed up to meet her, a dizzying blur.
With a sickening crunch of impacted bone, Aurelia collided with the thick foliage of a nearby shrub. The world spun, a kaleidoscope of pain and moonlight. The frantic shouts from the room seemed to fade into a distant hum as a wave of dizziness washed over her. Her eyes fluttered shut, darkness claiming her as unconsciousness mercifully swept her away.
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The Baroness Meredith stood isolated within the throng of the ballroom, her jeweled gown shimmering in the soft candlelight. A forced smile played upon her lips as she engaged in a tedious conversation with the Duke of the South, her mind far from the pleasantries of courtly gossip. Her thoughts, instead, were focused on her niece, Aurelia.
Where had the girl disappeared to? Had she grown bored of the social niceties and decided to slip away? A frown creased the Baroness' brow. No, Aurelia wouldn't abandon her mission. Not now.
Her sharp gaze scanned the crowded balcony, searching for a flash of emerald green amongst the swirling gowns. A flicker of movement caught her eye, and for a brief moment, she thought she saw Aurelia disappear through a hidden doorway. But before she could investigate further, another sensation drew her attention.
A ripple of commotion, a flurry of whispers, began to spread through the ballroom. Whispers of a commotion, of shouts erupting from somewhere above. The Duke of the South, sensing the shift in atmosphere, cleared his throat.
"My apologies, Baroness," he murmured, feigning concern. "What seems to be the issue?"
The Baroness offered a tight smile, her eyes already searching the crowd for Gaius. He was her eyes and ears in this elaborate dance – he would have the answers. There he was, a flicker of movement as he navigated his way towards the stairs leading to the balcony. Their eyes met briefly, a silent communication passing between them.
Then, pandemonium erupted. Guards burst into the ballroom, their faces grim, their voices raised in a frantic cry. "A murderer! A murderer on the loose!"
A wave of shock and horror washed over the crowd. The Baroness' smile faltered, a flicker of fear replacing the practiced facade. Had Aurelia actually succeeded? Was the king… dead?
But as whispers began to spread about the victim, a the triumphant smile on her lips slowly faded. It wasn't the king. It was Lord Arnold, the pompous fop who had always harbored a secret ambition for the throne. Meredith sighed. Aurelia, it seemed, had lost it.
The news was a bitter pill to swallow. Months of planning, of meticulous preparation, thrown into disarray by a single impulsive act. Aurelia's mistake would have consequences, and the Baroness knew that all too well. Now, she had another task at hand – damage control.
As the ballroom erupted into chaos, the Baroness straightened her spine, a mask of icy composure settling upon her features. This was not the time for panic. It was the time for action. Aurelia's impulsive act had thrown a wrench into their plans, but the game wasn't over yet.
The king still awaited his fate, and the Baroness, with a steely glint in her eyes, was determined to see it through, even if it meant cleaning up her niece's mess.