The words struck.
The Prince regretted them instantly.
But he did not withdraw them.
The Queen looked at him for a long moment.
Then she exhaled.
“You are becoming irritatingly like your father.”
The Prince smiled faintly.
“So I can come?”
“No.”
His smile vanished.
The Captain intervened.
“My Queen.”
She turned.
“The key is in his hand.”
“Take it.”
The Captain looked at the Prince.
The Prince closed his fist.
The Captain sighed.
“He also shattered the mask, caught the key before the Regent kicked it away, and forced the truth into the open.”
“That is not an argument for encouraging him.”
“It is an argument that leaving him behind may require chains.”
The Queen glared.
The Captain looked apologetic.
The Prince said, “He’s right.”
The Queen closed her eyes.
“Fine.”
The Prince smiled.
“You stay between me and the guards.”
He frowned.
“That is hardly heroic.”
“Good.”
They entered the western tunnels before noon.
No royal procession.
No banners.
The Queen wore a sword beneath her cloak.
The Prince carried a bow.
The Captain led twenty soldiers personally loyal to the Queen.
The Royal Keeper came because he alone remembered the oldest passage map.
They descended beneath the palace through a narrow stone stair hidden behind the western archives.
The air changed.
Salt.
Cold water.
Rot.
The sound of the sea entered through stone.
The Prince had lived his entire life above these tunnels.
He had never known they existed.
That realization bothered him more with every step.
“How much else is hidden beneath this place?”
The Keeper answered, “Enough to make wise kings humble.”
“And foolish kings?”
“Usually dead.”
The Queen looked back.
“Wonderful.”
The stair ended at an iron door.
Unlocked.
The Captain raised a hand.
Soldiers spread.
Beyond it stretched a low passage lit by torches.
Fresh torches.
Someone was already there.
The Prince whispered, “Regent.”
The Captain nodded.
They advanced.
At the first junction they found a body.
A royal guard.
Dead only minutes.
The Queen knelt.
He wore the Regent’s colors.
The Captain examined the wound.
“Sword through the back.”
The Prince frowned.
“His own men?”
“Maybe.”
The Keeper pointed toward the floor.
Blood drops continued west.
They followed.
The tunnel widened into an ancient cistern.
Then a voice echoed.
“STOP.”
Everyone froze.
A soldier stood above them on a stone walkway.
Crossbow aimed downward.
The Captain raised his shield.
“Drop it.”
The soldier’s hands shook.
“I can’t.”
The Prince recognized him.
A young palace guard.