Chapter 88 The break out
ADRIAN
The plan is insane. We both know it.
But we’re doing it anyway, abd tonight is the night.
The hallway outside Darian’s room is too quiet. The kind of quiet that makes your skin crawl. Like the palace itself is holding its breath.
Kelvin’s beside me, hood pulled low, shoulders tense as he stares at the glyph-etched hinges of Darian’s door. His satchel rests against the wall. Inside are tools he swore he hadn’t touched since we were thirteen and sneaking into the treasury to steal sugared figs.
He didn’t laugh when he said it this time.
I glance down the corridor. The bell tower stunt worked, most of the guards ran off in a panic after it started tolling out of rhythm. Emergency drills kicked in. Everyone thinks it’s sabotage. They’re not wrong.
Timing is everything now.
Kelvin crouches low, pulling out a soft-bristled brush and a tiny vial of dispel ink. “Two glyphs,” he whispers. “One alarm, one lock. I’ll handle the alarm first. If I screw this up, ”
“Don’t,” I say, cutting off the negativity.
He gives me a tight glare. “Helpful.”
The ink shimmers faintly as he brushes it over the etched lines. For a second, nothing happens. Then the air pulses, a soft, silent vibration, and the glyph dulls.
One down.
I’m already pulling out the pick Darian told us about. The door’s still locked, but it’s mechanical now. Human. Breakable. I slide the pick in. Twist. Click.
We’re in.
The door swings open with a groan. I step in first, instinctively. Darian sits on the edge of the bed, already awake, like he’s been waiting for this moment since yesterday. The cuffs are still tight on his wrists, his face pale, but his eyes are alert.
“Is this the part where you say ‘told you I’d come back’?” he asks, voice raw.
“No,” I say, stepping forward. “This is the part where we run.”
Kelvin slips in behind me, already working on the cuffs. He mutters something about binding wards and pressure latches, then curses when the first one shocks his fingers.
Darian flinches but doesn’t complain.
I keep an eye on the hallway. The silence is stretching too long.
“Kelvin,” I warn.
“Almost…there.”
The cuffs snap open. Darian exhales, rubbing his wrists, then stands, slower than I’d like, unsteady too.
“You good to move?”
“Do I have a choice?”
Kelvin passes him a hooded cloak. “Don’t fall behind.”
We slip back into the corridor. No guards yet. No shouting. We take the east stairwell, the one that loops behind the servants’ quarters and exits near the infirmary.
We’re halfway down when the first problem hits.
A pulse, like magic vibrating through my chest shakes the air. A ward’s been tripped. Not one of ours.
Kelvin freezes. “That’s a silent trigger.”
“Someone’s noticed,” Darian mutters.
“Move.”
We bolt down the last steps. The servants’ tunnel yawns ahead, narrow, damp, half-forgotten. Darian stumbles once, but keeps going. Kelvin hands him off to me and veers toward the back door to check our exit route.
I hear it before I see it, footsteps. Heavy. Fast.
Then a voice, too familiar and too loud.
“Adrian!”
I spin, heart slamming.
Zeus stands at the top of the stairwell, sword drawn, eyes wild.
“You traitorous little shits,” he breathes, fury vibrating off him. “You think you’re clever?”
I step in front of Darian.
“Clever? No,” I say. “But I am motivated.”
He steps forward. “Father gave you a direct order.”
“Father chained his own son to a bed,” I snap. “Forgive me if I stopped caring about his commands.”
Zeus charges.
I shove Darian behind me and meet him halfway. He swings, controlled, sharp, and I parry with the short blade Kelvin stuffed in my belt earlier. It’s not a fair fight. It never is with Zeus.
He slams me back against the wall, blade at my throat.
“You always did talk too much,” he growls.
“And you always overcompensate,” I spit.
Before he can respond, Kelvin appears behind him — slams a spark ward against his shoulder. It crackles, bursting with a blinding flash. Zeus roars and stumbles back, momentarily stunned.
“Run!” Kelvin shouts.
We move.
The tunnel curves fast. I drag Darian behind me, feet slipping on the wet stone. Behind us, Zeus is already recovering.
Kelvin pulls up the rear, but he’s limping — I don’t realize why until I see the blood on his sleeve. His hand is scorched, fingertips blackened from the glyph shock earlier.
“You okay?” I yell.
“No,” he snaps. “Keep moving.”
We reach the servant’s exit, a narrow hatch behind the infirmary. It’s half rusted, heavy as hell. I wrench it open while Darian leans on the wall, breathing hard.
“Go,” I tell him. “I’ll hold the door.”
He doesn’t argue.
Kelvin stumbles in after him, but he’s lagging.
Zeus’s voice cuts through the tunnel like a blade.
“You think you can run forever?”
I meet Kelvin’s eyes. “Get him out.”
“What?”
“Take him. Go. I’ll hold him off.”
“No, Adrian.”
“Just do as I say.”
Kelvin hesitates. Then nods once, barely, and hauls Darian forward.
I slam the hatch just as Zeus rounds the corner.
He skids to a stop, eyes wild.
“Where are they?” he snarls.
“Gone,” I say, leaning against the hatch. “You lose.”
He lunges. I throw the blade, not to hit him, just to stall. It buys me two seconds. Enough to dive toward the side tunnel and vanish.
I hear his footsteps pounding behind me. Hear the guards start shouting.
The alarm sounds, not just bells now.
They know.
They all know.
I don’t stop running until the sound fades behind me.
Not far, but enough fnow.
I drop into a hidden alcove behind the armory, panting, cloak soaked through.
We did it.
Sort of.
Kelvin’s injured. Zeus saw me. The alarm’s raised. We’ll be hunted before dawn.
But Darian is free.
And if I have to burn every corridor in this palace to keep him that way, I will.