His Bride, Her Revenge-Chapter 85: An Empire Shattered

The palace was no longer the sanctuary it had once been. The cold stone walls, once a symbol of unyielding strength and royal grandeur, now seemed to close in on Cambria like the prison of a crumbling dynasty.

The Crown Jewels were gone.

The theft was more than a crime it was a declaration of war.

At dawn, the palace was awash with chaos.

Soldiers rushed through corridors, barking orders. The once orderly halls now buzzed with frantic energy. Courtiers whispered in shocked disbelief, their eyes darting nervously. Some tried to mask their fear behind forced smiles; others barely concealed their dread.

Cambria stood in the center of the throne room, her regal composure unwavering despite the storm of emotions roiling inside her. She touched the cold surface of the throne as if drawing strength from it, grounding herself in the legacy she was charged to protect.

Brienne, her trusted captain of the guard, approached swiftly.

"Your Majesty," she said, bowing her head slightly. "The guards found signs of forced entry at the west wing vault. They were overpowered by skilled assailants masked and heavily armed. There were no survivors."

Cambria’s jaw tightened. "No survivors? Not one?"

Brienne shook her head gravely. "None."

Lucien stepped forward, his face pale but set. "It’s Knox’s doing. His forces are growing bolder. This is his message to us that he can strike anywhere, anytime."

Cambria’s eyes flashed with fierce determination. "Then we will not wait for him to come to us. We will take the fight to him."

As the day wore on, the palace became a hive of speculation and suspicion.

The court was a powder keg. Noble families exchanged sharp glances, their loyalty in question. Cambria’s once-steadfast allies whispered behind her back, some doubting her ability to maintain control.

In the chambers, whispers of a traitor circulated.

Cambria knew the crown’s greatest danger came from within.

In the privacy of her solar, she summoned Lord Hargrave, her longtime advisor.

He entered with a cautious bow, but his eyes betrayed unease.

"Your Majesty," he began, "there are troubling rumors. Some say the thief could only have been helped from the inside."

Cambria’s gaze sharpened. "And you suspect?"

Hargrave hesitated. "I do not want to name names without proof. But I urge caution. Trust is a luxury we can no longer afford."

Cambria nodded slowly. "Then we will watch and wait."

Outside the palace gates, the city teetered on the edge of panic.

Marketplaces that once thrived now buzzed with fear and uncertainty. Merchants whispered that the empire’s foundation was cracking and that the monarchy was vulnerable. The common folk, who depended on the stability the crown provided, looked to the skies and muttered prayers for salvation.

In the taverns, conversations swirled with talk of rebellion and dissent.

Cambria’s heart ached. Her people needed hope. They needed a leader who could turn chaos into order.

But her doubts crept in like frost at the edges of her resolve. Was she truly capable of restoring what had been lost?

Late in the afternoon, a messenger arrived breathlessly, carrying an encrypted note.

Brienne broke the seal and read aloud: "A contact in the city’s underground claims to have information about the stolen jewels and Knox’s plan."

Lucien frowned. "This could be a trap."

Cambria’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Or it could be the first thread to unravel this conspiracy. Prepare a team. We move at night."

That evening, as twilight bled into darkness, Cambria stood alone by the palace window, gazing at the sprawling cityscape.

The faint flicker of torches in distant streets reminded her of the countless lives depending on her.

Her thoughts drifted to her father, King Alaric, whose iron will had once held the empire together.

She whispered to the night, "Father, guide me. I will not let the Blackwood name fall to ruin."

Under cover of darkness, Cambria, Brienne, Lucien, and a small squad of elite guards slipped through the city toward the docks, a known haunt for Knox’s mercenaries.

The smell of salt and rot filled the air, mingling with the threat of violence.

Every shadow seemed to conceal a threat.

Suddenly, figures emerged, blades flashing.

A brutal fight erupted.

Cambria moved with a warrior’s grace and fury, striking down foes with cold precision.

Then, through the chaos, she spotted a familiar glinting part of the stolen Crown Jewels glimmering in the moonlight.

She lunged to grab it.

But before she could, a piercing whistle cut through the night.

The attackers vanished, leaving behind a chilling silence.

Brienne knelt beside a wounded guard, his breath shallow. "It was a message," he rasped. "They knew we were coming... there’s a leak."

Cambria’s heart sank. The rot was deeper than she’d feared.

Back in the palace, Cambria prepared to report her findings when a knock at the door froze her.

Lord Hargrave entered, his face pale.

"Your Majesty," he said, voice trembling, "there is something urgent you must hear."

Before he could finish, the lights flickered and died.

The chamber plunged into darkness.

A gunshot rang out.

Hargrave crumpled to the floor, blood blooming across his chest.

Cambria rushed to his side, her hands shaking.

A cold voice whispered from the shadows:

"The empire is shattered. So is your trust."

The assassination sent shockwaves through the court and city.

Nobles questioned Cambria’s power.

Generals wavered in their allegiance.

The people’s faith faltered.

The throne was more fragile than ever.

Alone, Cambria sat on the throne, the weight of her crown heavier than ever.

She touched the empty pedestal where the Crown Jewels should have been.

Tears stung her eyes, but her voice was steel.

"This empire may be shattered," she vowed, "but I will rebuild it from the ashes."

A storm was coming.

And she would be ready.

Suddenly, a sealed letter slid across the floor at her feet.

She bent to pick it up.

The seal bore the mark of Knox.

With trembling hands, she broke it open.

Inside was a single line:

"The game has only just begun, Your Majesty."

And in the corner, scribbled in crimson ink:

"Next, your heart."