Adrian's pulse hammered as he slipped through the city's crowded market, the noon sun glinting off Princess Eryn's distant carriage. The coded letter and ledger, sewn into his cloak, pressed against his ribs like a second heartbeat. Today was his shot to steal a drop of her blood—Mira's key to cracking the royal vault and proving House Draven's treachery. Failure meant the end of his family's redemption. Success meant defying a kingdom.
Lira and Toren flanked him, cloaks low, blending with the throng of merchants and gawkers. Lira's eyes darted, tracking guards. Toren's hand hovered near a stolen workshop crystal, rigged to disrupt magic. Adrian clutched his copper disc, its new conduit rune designed to siphon a pinprick of blood without a trace. His plan was mad, but madness had kept him alive.
"She'll step out for the orphanage blessing," Adrian whispered, nodding at the carriage. "Crowd's thickest then. I move in, you two cover."
Lira's jaw tightened. "One mistake, and we're dead."
"Then don't make one," Adrian said, his voice steadier than he felt. Toren's betrayal still stung, but his help now was all Adrian had.
The carriage stopped, and Eryn emerged, her silver gown shimmering. Guards formed a loose ring, their eyes sharp but distracted by the cheering crowd. Adrian's stomach churned. She was young, barely older than him, her smile kind but guarded. Guilt pricked him—this wasn't her fight—but justice demanded it.
"Now," he hissed, slipping forward. The crowd's roar masked his steps as he wove through, disc hidden in his palm. Lira bumped a fruit cart, spilling apples to draw a guard's attention. Toren lingered near another, crystal ready.
Adrian was inches from Eryn when a hand grabbed his shoulder. He spun, heart lurching, to face a grizzled vendor. "Watch it, kid," the man growled, shoving him back. The disc slipped, clattering to the cobblestones.
Time froze. A guard's head turned. Adrian dove, snatching the disc as Eryn moved closer, her gown brushing his arm. He pressed the rune to her sleeve, praying it worked. A faint hum, a spark—then nothing. Had it taken the blood? No time to check.
"Thief!" the vendor shouted, pointing. Guards surged, and Adrian bolted, cloak flapping. Lira and Toren melted into the crowd, their roles done. The market erupted, stalls tipping as Adrian ducked under a cart, lungs burning. A guard's magic sparked, singeing his cloak. He rolled, sprinting into an alley.
Footsteps pounded behind. Adrian's mind raced—no magic, no strength, just wit. He kicked a barrel, spilling oil across the alley's mouth. The guards slipped, cursing, and he gained seconds, enough to slip into a shadowed doorway. His chest heaved, the disc warm in his hand. Had it worked? He couldn't tell, but he was alive.
He met Lira and Toren at the inn, Mira waiting with her scarred hands crossed. "Got it?" she asked, eyes like knives.
Adrian handed her the disc, his fingers trembling. "Check it."
Mira pressed the rune, and a tiny bead of blood gleamed—royal red. Adrian exhaled, relief flooding him. "That's Eryn's," he said. "Now the vault."
Mira's smirk was cold. "Tomorrow night. Be ready—or don't bother showing."
They left, the city's hum a dull roar. Lira's voice broke the silence. "You almost got caught. What if they'd recognized you?"
"They didn't," Adrian said, but her words gnawed at him. The Dravens knew his name—Valorian—and every move tightened their net.
Toren clapped his shoulder, too casual. "Nice work, Corveth. You're crazier than I thought."
Adrian shrugged him off, the sting of betrayal sharp. "Save it. You're still on thin ice."
Back at the Academy, the air felt heavier. A new note waited on Adrian's cot: Blood won't save you, Valorian. His gut twisted. The Dravens were everywhere, their spies closer than he'd feared. He burned the note, its ashes mingling with his resolve.
In the workshop, he sketched a backup plan—runes to disrupt vault guards if Mira failed. Lira watched, her scarf loose. "You're not sleeping," she said. "This is eating you."
"It's all I've got," Adrian admitted, voice raw. "The vault's the endgame. My family's name, my life—it's there."
She touched his arm, a rare gesture. "We're with you. Don't forget that."
He nodded, throat tight. Trust was a risk, but Lira's steadiness was a anchor. Toren, still a question mark, lingered by the door, his eyes unreadable.
As night fell, Adrian lay awake, the disc's success a fragile victory. The vault was close, but so were the Dravens. Princess Eryn's face flashed in his mind—her kind smile, now a pawn in his war. Guilt gnawed, but justice burned brighter. He'd survived the market, the fire, the betrayal. Tomorrow, he'd face the vault—and the truth would be his, or it would break him.