C12 Lena's Warning

Adrian didn't sleep that night. He just lay there, waiting for the palace to quiet down, but the heaviness in his chest wouldn't let him be. Eventually, he got up, wrapped a cloak around his shoulders, and slipped out into the hall.

The palace felt alive in its own way—the torches flickered, and the wind found a way in through the far-off arches. His footsteps seemed too loud. Still, something pulled him along, straight to the west courtyard. The exact place his father had died. He didn't even try to explain it—he just needed answers, or at least something close.

Moonlight washed over the courtyard. No one else was there. Just the fountain, and the dark stain on the stones nearby. He walked over and dropped to one knee. The old blood was rough and dry under his fingertip—a silent question.

Then, behind him, a whisper. He spun around. "Who's there?"

Nothing. Shadows and wind.

His heart started thumping, and he scanned the courtyard.

"Please—save me, my prince."

The voice nearly broke apart—scared, desperate. Adrian froze as somebody stumbled out from the darkness.

"Lena?"

She looked like she'd already lost half her life before she ever got there—pale, shivering, short of breath.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked.

She kept glancing over her shoulder, as if the walls themselves might be listening. "I had to find you."

"What's wrong?"

She took a shaky breath. "The one who tried to kill Prince Fredric—he wasn't supposed to kill the King."

Adrian's mind snagged. "Wait—what?"

"They were meant to kill Fredric—for you."

The words hit him hard. "For me?"

Lena nodded, already crying. "Yes. Something went wrong."

"Who did this?" he demanded.

"They gave him something," she said, voice filling with panic. "A scent. Perfume—"

A whistle split the air.

He barely managed to turn before an arrow slammed into Lena.

"Lena!"

She collapsed into him, her body nearly dead weight. He caught her as she fell.

"Lena—stay with me. Tell me who—it was. Please!"

She tried to speak: "It's…the…Prin—"

Her voice fell away. Her body went limp in his arms.

"Lena?" But she was gone already—her eyes looked right through him.

Everything around Adrian seemed to crumble. He looked up, running on instinct, toward the balcony overhead.

A shadow stood up there, just watching.

Adrian shot to his feet. "Who's there?" His voice broke against the stone. No answer, just the night and the shape vanishing into nothing.

He shouted: "Help! Someone—help!" His voice echoed, but nobody answered except for the moon, silent and cold above him. Lena's blood spread through his cloak.

Footsteps pounded across the courtyard. A guard arrived, torch up. He stopped short when he saw the scene. "My prince—by the spirits—what happened?"

"An arrow," Adrian said, barely recognizing his own voice. "She was trying to warn me—someone shot her."

The guard found his voice, started shouting for help. More guards came running and carried Lena away, down the hall toward the healer's wing. Adrian followed, numb, mind racing in circles.

Someone inside the palace had done this. Someone who knew where to find him. Who knew Lena was about to tell.

On the walk back, the corridor felt even colder—lanterns fluttered like they might go out at any second. Lena's arm swung uselessly, her apron soaked in blood.

Adrian glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting that shadow to follow. But no one did. Empty hallways. Watching. Waiting.

When they reached the healer's chamber, the royal physician threw open the door, looking annoyed about being woken. But he took one look at Lena and the irritation withered.

"She was shot," Adrian said quietly.

The physician checked her over, fast but thorough, then backed away. "She's gone."

Adrian didn't need to hear those words—he already knew. Didn't make it any easier. Something inside him twisted tighter.

He said, "Prepare her. She deserves the proper honor."

"Of course, my prince."

Adrian stepped into the hallway and leaned against the cold stone, breathing hard. She came out here just to warn me, and now she's dead. If I hadn't—

He cut that thought off before it got too loud. Guilt could wait. He needed to think.

A guard moved in, careful. "We'll check the courtyard, my prince—the arrow, the angle, everything."

Adrian shook his head. "No word of this. Not to the court, not to the nobles, not to the servants. Not yet."

"Yes, my prince."

He watched the guard leave and thought: Whoever did this is still inside these walls.

The next morning didn't make things better. The sky was heavy and gray, as if even the weather wanted to mourn.

The council collected in the chamber—nobody making eye contact for long. The queen sat with shaky hands clenched around a handkerchief. The Chief Advisor stood dead center, stony-faced.

Adrian stood before them, tired but upright, hollow everywhere else.

"Prince Adrian," said the advisor, all business. "The guards say you found a maid's body last night. Tell us what happened."

Silence hung in the air for a long moment before he spoke.

"I went to the west courtyard. I needed to think. I saw blood, and then I heard something. It was Lena."

The queen let out a quiet, broken sound.

"She told me someone here—someone in the palace—meant to kill Prince Fredric," Adrian went on. "It was supposed to be him. The attack wasn't meant for the King."

A ripple of shock went around the room.

"And the King?" the advisor asked.

"It was a mistake. Something went wrong."

"And then?"

"She tried to name the one behind it. Before she could, someone shot her from the balcony."

The chamber erupted. The advisor had to raise a hand to quiet them.

"You're telling us the killer is still in the palace?"

"Yes. And they're powerful enough to silence anyone who knows."

You could feel fear settling almost tangibly, hanging over everyone's head.

"Did she say who did it?" the queen asked, her voice trembling.

"She tried." Adrian kept his words steady. "Her last words were, 'It's… Prin—'"

The room shifted, filling with whispers.

"Princess?" someone guessed.

"No—Prince?" another voice.

"Principal guard?"

Confusion twisted into suspicion.

The advisor raised his hands. "No conclusions. Not from a fragment of a word."

But Adrian saw what was happening—glances darting, doubt spreading like wildfire through the chamber.

"Your Highness," said the advisor, "we'll increase your security. Until we know more, your safety is the priority."

Adrian nodded, but it felt all wrong. More guards meant more people—more eyes, more ears. And more ways for the killer to stay close enough to finish what they started.

A voice broke in, sharp. "And Prince Fredric? Where was he when all this happened?"