The sun had barely risen, casting long shadows through the palace corridors as Levi and I walked in silence. The attack from last night lingered between us, unspoken but undeniable. The soreness in my arm where the assassin's blade had grazed me was nothing compared to the weight pressing against my chest. Someone had paid for my death, and we were about to find out who.
Levi was unusually quiet beside me. He usually had some sharp remark ready, some half-smirk playing at his lips, but this morning, he was unreadable.
I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. "You're not going to make a joke? Not even a little one?"
He arched a brow, finally turning to face me. "And ruin the perfectly brooding mood you've set? I wouldn’t dream of it, Your Highness."
Despite everything, a small huff of amusement escaped me. "How considerate of you."
Levi slowed his pace slightly, falling into step beside me instead of just behind me. It was subtle, but I noticed. His hand brushed against mine for the briefest moment before he pulled away, shoving his hands into his coat pockets.
I shouldn't have noticed. Shouldn't have thought about how warm his fingers had been, how effortless the touch was—like it had been natural.
Instead of dwelling on it, I focused ahead. We had bigger concerns.
The palace archives were hidden beneath the eastern wing, a place only a handful of people had access to. My father had always kept this room under lock and key, its shelves filled with intelligence reports, intercepted messages, and classified documents.
I unlocked the door, and as it creaked open, the scent of aged parchment filled the air. The dim candlelight cast long shadows against the shelves, rows of scrolls, and bound volumes stretching from floor to ceiling.
Levi let out a low whistle. "You weren’t lying when you said your family liked their secrets."
I strode toward the large oak desk at the centre of the room, sifting through the reports already laid out. The Black Vow was no ordinary group of assassins. They were calculated, precise. They didn’t take contracts unless they were certain of success.
Someone with money and power had ordered my death.
Levi leaned against the desk, watching me carefully. "You look like you're thinking yourself into a corner."
I sighed. "Just considering our options."
Three names had surfaced as possible culprits—three people with the motive, means, or connections to arrange an assassination attempt on me.
I slid the first file toward him. "James Blackwood. English nobility, head of the Blackwood house. My father denied him access to a lucrative trade deal not long ago. He stands to gain a great deal if I were removed from the equation."
Levi tapped his fingers against the edge of the parchment. "Blackwood’s ambitious, but not reckless. He wouldn't risk something like this unless he was sure it wouldn't lead to war."
"Which means if he's behind this, he has allies in my court," I muttered. That thought was unsettling enough.
I grabbed the second file. "Lucia Perez. She’s from a carpenter family in Russia, but she’s not just a simple craftsman’s daughter. She’s made a fortune moving illegal goods. I led a campaign years ago that cracked down on her operations."
Levi arched a brow. "So, another enemy you've made."
"Apparently, I’m quite good at that," I said dryly.
He smirked. "You're just now realizing?"
I ignored him, sliding the final file forward. "Orla Murphy. An opera singer, but more importantly, someone who was close with your family."
I watched Levi carefully as he picked up the file, his face unreadable.
"My father helped her once," he said after a moment. "Funded her career. Got her into places she never could’ve reached on her own."
"And you think she was grateful?"
Levi's jaw tightened. "She was. But gratitude can turn into resentment, can’t it? Especially if she felt like she owed my father a debt she could never repay."
For a moment, neither of us spoke. There was something guarded in Levi’s expression, something I couldn’t quite read.
"You trust her," I said carefully.
He hesitated. "I trusted her once."
That wasn't the same thing.
We stood there in silence, the candlelight flickering between us. The night had changed something—I could feel it, even if neither of us spoke about it. Levi had thrown himself into the fight to protect me. He had stayed up to keep watch, to make sure I made it through the night alive.
And I had felt something then, something I wasn't sure I was ready to name.
I cleared my throat, pushing the thought away. "We split up. One of these names holds the answer, and I intend to find out which."
Levi studied me for a long moment before nodding. "Fine. But if you get yourself nearly killed again, I’m going to be very annoyed."
I smirked despite myself. "I’ll do my best to spare you the inconvenience."
His lips twitched, almost like he wanted to smile, but instead, he shook his head. "Come on, Viktór. Let's go hunt down a traitor."
And with that, we stepped out of the archives into the unknown.
YOU ARE READING
Bound By The Crown
Fantasy"Bound by the Crown" Bound by duty, divided by kingdoms and surrounded by treachery, Princes Viktór and Levi are forced into a political marriage to prevent a devastating war. What begins as an unwanted union between rivals quickly becomes a tangled...
