The music stopped suddenly as loud shouts began echoing around the ballroom. Several of Delacroix’s guards rushed into the room, blocking the windows and entrances of the room. Still swaying, Aurélie clutched Oliver’s arm as they began joining the guests that were being forced to stand together in the centre of the room.

“Where is Étienne?” Aurélie whispered, her words slurring slightly. She felt dizzy and each step she took threatened to bring her to the ground.

Oliver shrugged, glancing around the room. His father and Duke Saint-Clair rushed towards Delacroix, demanding answers.

“What nonsense is this?” Duke Linnington shouted, as he watched three guards swarm and surround him, silver weapons drawn. He watched as Delacroix stood up from his chair, clapping his hands together as he walked down the small steps leading to the dance floor.

“My people, friends and family,” he added, smiling as he walked past Celine, “I believe after much discussion the matter of the Kingdom has finally been settled. Tonight marks a new era!”

The room was silent as the guests watched Delacroix open out his arms, his dark eyes sweeping across the room, landing on each individual guest.

“Our lands have gone too long without a king. For too many years we have suffered, our kind dwindling as each year passes us by. We are reduced to a mere fairytale. We do not strike fear into the hearts of humankind any longer. That is about to change. For two decades we have sat around without getting anywhere. That time is over now. As of tonight, I will take charge. I will create a new era, one that is strong and fruitful!”

Several gasps were let out in the room. Aurélie was clutching Oliver’s arm tightly now, her stomach dropping. She felt Oliver tense up next to her as more guards filled the room, a large semicircle of Delacroix’s men crowding around the guests and preventing them from moving anywhere. Duke Saint-Clair stepped forward, his voice raised.

“This is not what we agreed on, Gustave!”

As soon as he stepped forward, the four guards surrounding him jutted their weapons towards him, tearing into the fabric of his waistcoat. Several drops of blood began forming, staining the navy-coloured fabric.

“We never agreed on anything,” Delacroix retorted, chuckling. “Discussions have gotten us nowhere. Action is the best decider on such matters.”

It was now Duke Linnington’s turn to raise his voice. Unlike Saint-Clair, he did not step forward but rather remained rooted on the spot, glaring towards Delacroix. “We agreed to hold a vote! Our people have the right to be included and have a choice as to who rules them.”

Several nods went around the room. Aurélie looked around herself, trying to find Étienne in the crowd. Based on the lack of snarky comments and protests, she deducted that he still had not made his way back into the ballroom. She hoped that he was somewhere safe, not wanting to imagine what sort of trouble he was in.

“A vote? Why yes, we can hold one right now, if that suits you better,” Delacroix said, his voice loud and strong. “Anyone opposed to my decision tonight?”

Several hands shot up, followed by loud protests from several guests belonging to the Linnington and Saint-Clair families and countries. Screams began echoing around the room as Delacroix’s guards stepped forward, their weapons raised. A heavy blanket of silence fell over the crowd, as the first body, one of Linnington’s men based on the yellow sash and golden sunflower crest, hit the ground with a heavy thud. Blood began pouring out from underneath the man, those around him jumping back and growing paler. Several of the women screamed, clamping their hands over their mouth.

It did not take long after that for chaos to break loose. Aurélie quickly sobered up and watched in horror as those who were opposed lunged towards the guards, baring their fangs. Blood began spilling the floor as those who attacked the guards were slaughtered with ease. Both Dukes were pleading for Delacroix to order his men to stop but were met with a sneer. Men wearing both the raven and sunflower crests began falling to the ground, a sea of red forming underneath them. A couple of Delacroix’s men joined the bodies, their throats torn out. Oliver pulled Aurélie back in an attempt to drag her away from the guards, both of them stumbling and slipping on the bodies and blood that coated their shoes.

“Enough!” Duke Saint-Clair bellowed at the top of his lungs. His men that were left began to step back from the fight, turning towards their leader. “You have made a terrible mistake tonight, Gustave. You will pay dearly for harming my family.”

“Do you concede?” Delacroix asked, looking down at Saint-Clair. His eyes held no remorse and he ignored the bodies of the fallen men as he stepped over them, standing in front of the Duke.

“I will not allow you to spill any more blood tonight,” Duke Saint-Clair began, the blades of the guards still cutting into his skin. “France is no longer your ally. You may claim the throne through violence and bloodshed, but you will never have the support of my people,” he spat.

“Neither will you gain any support from England,” Duke Linnington added as a threat.

“The thing is, Noel,” Delacroix said, ignoring Linnington’s remark, leaning down so his face was only a few inches away from Saint-Clair’s, “I do not need the support of your people. I am giving you this one and only chance to leave unharmed, so I suggest you better take it. Unless you would rather join your men?”

Duke Saint-Clair looked from Delacroix to the sea of blue. His heart fell as he realised just how many of his family and men had fallen. His eyes scanned feverishly for Étienne, unable to find him among the bodies. He caught sight of Aurélie, her face pale and weakly clutching onto Oliver. He turned back to Delacroix, fury in his eyes.

“I would rather die than see you be King!” he spat.

One of the guards took a hold of Oliver, snatching him away from Aurélie’s grip and dragging him towards Delacroix. The companion yelled out in protest, running after him only to find a silver blade against her throat.

“One step closer and you go down,” one of Delacroix’s men said, the blade cutting into her skin. Aurélie felt her blood beginning to trickle down her neck. She stood rooted on the spot, not daring to move any further. Her eyes darted towards Celine, who had seated herself on Delacroix’s chair, observing the chaos underneath her. She seemed unfazed, her eyes scanning the room as if she was looking for someone. Her eyes briefly met with Aurélie’s, and the Duke’s daughter gave her a smirk.

“Let me rephrase what I said. Either you go or your children die alongside you. What will it be?” Delacroix asked, walking over to Oliver and tracing a finger across his cheek. “A shame really to end both bloodlines in such a manner.”

“Do not listen to him!” Oliver yelled out towards his father, who had now taken a step forward.

“Leave him be! Our children have nothing to do with this,” Duke Linnington shouted, his finger raised. He briefly glanced over to Duke Saint-Clair, who nodded.

“We will take our men and leave. This is not the end,” Linnington said, pushing down the blades that were held out in front of him. He quickly rushed towards Oliver, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him towards the entrance of the room. Duke Saint-Clair did the same, his remaining men quickly surrounding him. He grabbed a hold of Aurélie’s hand, pulling her along with him. In a matter of seconds the room reverted back into chaos as guests were scrambling to leave. Aurélie looked back and saw Celine kissing Delacroix’s cheek before turning to the guards and guests that were bowing before them.

“Where is Étienne?” Duke Saint-Clair yelled over the noise of people rushing out, forcing Aurélie to turn her attention to him.

“I do not know,” she shouted back, falling into step with him.

“Go to both your and Étienne’s room and gather your things quickly. Only take the necessary items. I pray to god that my son decided to skip tonights event and went back to his room early. Meet me outside as soon as possible, do you understand?” Saint-Clair ordered, grabbing Aurélie by the shoulders as they reached the stairs leading to the upper floors. “I will be looking for Étienne down here!”

With a soft push from the Duke, Aurélie gathered her skirts and ran up the stairs to the floor where her room was. She burst through the door, gathering her small bag of personal belongings. Rushing over to the bedside table, she ripped open the drawers and took out her silver dagger. Not bothering to place it into its box, she carelessly threw it into the bag, the blade burying itself between books and clothes. Without looking back Aurélie ran out of her room and to the room next to hers, throwing open the doors. She was met with Étienne’s dark room.

“Étienne?” she called out into the darkness, running inside. To her dismay, Étienne was not in his room. She began rummaging through his closet and drawers in the dark, her hands grasping various articles of clothing and books. Her finger found the handle of a bag and she carelessly began throwing what she could find inside. Praying that she did not leave behind anything of importance, Aurélie slung the bag over her shoulder and rushed back out of the room.

The floor that their rooms were on was quiet. Majority of the castle’s guests were located on the floors below them or were only visiting for the evening. Aurélie passed several people that were trying to haul their luggage down the stairs, blocking her path. She let out a string of curses as she almost fell over a suitcase that was placed in the middle of the stairs. With great effort and pushing luggage to the side, she soon found herself back on the ground floor.

Down there, the chaos was worse.

People were pushing past one another to get to the entrance hall, not caring about each other. Several guests were limping while others were clutching at wounds that they had gotten from Delacroix’s men. In the chaos Aurélie could not tell who belonged to which family. She could not see either Dukes, Oliver or Étienne in the crowd, her heart hammering in her chest.

Adjusting both bags around her shoulders, Aurélie continued along, hoping that Duke Saint-Clair had managed to find Étienne. Her mind filled with worry as she pushed past people that were blocking her path. What if something terrible had happened to him? What if Delacroix’s men had hurt him? What if he was one of the many that had fallen?

“Aurélie!”

Running towards her, waistcoat ripped and holding a silver blade, was Étienne. His sleeves were rolled up and blood was pouring down his left arm, a large cut visible on his shoulder. He pushed past a guest that ran in front of him, the woman almost toppling to the ground before finding her footing and continuing on her way.

Aurélie almost dropped the two bags that she was carrying, letting out a gasp and running towards him. She flung her arms around his neck, the bags bashing into his sides. He held her tightly, ignoring the pain and breathing a sigh of relief.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, pulling back and holding Aurélie’s face as he began inspecting it. Aurélie shook her head, her heart hammering in her chest from running so quickly.

“Étienne, I am so sorry! I should not have left you in the hallway back there. I saw you with Celine and I got jealous, thinking that you and her were going to—“ Aurélie’s frantic and out of breath stammering was interrupted as Étienne crashed his lips onto hers. The chaos around them faded as he slung one arm around her hip and pulled her closer to him while his other hand rested on her cheek. The bags that Aurélie was holding dropped on the floor, landing on the tiles with a loud thud. Étienne did not let her go as he continued to kiss her with desperation. She returned Étienne’s kiss with the same passion, her heart threatening to burst out of her chest before she quickly pulled back.

“This is not the time. We have to leave!” she exclaimed, still out of breath. She ignored the heat rising up to her cheeks and the way that Étienne was staring at her.

Aurélie picked up the bags and thrust them into Étienne’s arms, pulling him out of his stupor. She took a hold of his hand and dragged him along to the entrance of the castle. Guests were rushing in and out, bags strewn across the hallway and stairs. Carriages were being called and the shouting left Aurélie’s ears ringing. She continued along, pulling Étienne through the entrance and down the stairs. She could see Duke Saint-Clair and his men loading their carriages near the entrance of the front gardens.

As Duke Saint-Clair saw the pair, he let out a loud sigh of relief. “Where on earth were you?” he demanded, rushing over to Étienne.

“I was looking for Aurélie and was ambushed by some of Delacroix’s men on the second floor. I got away but not without them getting a good hit on me,” Étienne said quickly, swinging the bag onto the roof of one of the carriages and looking down at his shoulder. The bleeding had stopped but his white shirt was now stained crimson. “They look worse than me though.”

“As long as you are safe and have what you need. Get in, we must return to France as soon as possible,” Saint-Clair ordered, opening the door and letting Aurélie step in first. Étienne followed, sitting down beside his companion and examining his shoulder. The carriage door slammed shut and Saint-Clair bellowed for his men to start their long journey home.

They only had a few hours until sunrise and nowhere to go within the country that was safe.