The Princess's Revenge Chapter 133

Valencia’s POV

Furniture lay overturned and broken. Books were scattered everywhere, their pages torn and trampled. The desk Rhodes used for his research had been smashed to pieces. Papers covered the floor like fallen leaves.

But worst of all were the marks on the walls.

Claw marks. Deep gouges in the plaster and wood. And beneath them, dark stains that could only be blood.

"Goddess," I whispered.

Logan moved through the room carefully, checking every corner. Mason stood guard at the door, watching the courtyard outside.

I knelt down and touched one of the bloodstains on the floor. It was dry and flaky, old. At least two or three days old.

"Logan," I said quietly. "This blood... it's been here for days."

He came over and examined it himself. His expression grew darker.

Mason spoke from the doorway. "Alpha, we should move soon. The longer we stay, the more likely we'll be discovered."

Logan nodded. He moved to the overturned desk and started searching through the debris. I joined him, carefully sorting through torn papers and broken quills.

Most of the documents were ruined, but I found Rhodes's research notes about dragon history. The pages were crumpled and stained, but still readable.

Then I noticed something. Several pages had been torn out. Not accidentally—deliberately removed. You could see where they'd been ripped from the binding.

"Someone took his most recent notes," I said, showing Logan the damaged journal.

Logan's jaw tightened. "They wanted to know what Rhodes discovered."

I moved to search the rest of the room. Under the overturned bed, I found Rhodes's sword belt. The scabbard was still attached, but the sword itself was gone.

"He fought back," I said, holding up the empty scabbard. "He drew his sword before they killed him."

Logan took the scabbard and examined it. "Rhodes was a skilled fighter. He wouldn't have gone down easily."

"But where's his body?" I asked. The question had been bothering me since we entered. "If they killed him here, where did they take him?"

"Maybe they wanted to hide the evidence," Mason suggested from the doorway. "Or maybe they took him alive for questioning."

The thought of Rhodes being tortured for information made my stomach turn.

Logan moved to the broken window and looked out into the dark courtyard. "This was Elton's work. It has to be. He's the only one with motivation to silence Rhodes."

"But how did Elton even know Rhodes was researching dragon lore?" I asked.

Logan turned back to face me. "Spies. Informants. Elton has eyes everywhere in King's Fang. He must have learned that Rhodes was asking questions in the library, researching topics related to the Ogden family and dragons."

Mason cleared his throat. "Alpha, we really need to leave. Now."

Logan nodded. "We go to the castle. We need to check if Aldric is still alive in the dungeons."

My heart sank. If Elton had killed Rhodes, what had he done to Aldric?

We left Rhodes's destroyed lodging and made our way through the dark streets toward the castle. The closer we got, the more guards we encountered. They patrolled in pairs, their armor clinking softly, their torches casting moving shadows on the stone walls.

Logan led us through a maze of side streets and narrow alleys, avoiding the main thoroughfares. Mason's warriors moved like shadows, completely silent despite their weapons and armor.

Finally, the castle loomed before us. It was massive, with high stone walls and tall towers that seemed to scrape the night sky. Torches lined the battlements, and I could see guards walking their patrol routes.

We crouched in the shadows of a building across from the castle's eastern wall. Logan studied the defenses carefully, his eyes tracking the movement of every guard.

"There," he said quietly, pointing to a section of wall between two guard towers. "The patrol passes that spot every fifteen minutes. We have a small window when both guards are facing away."

"How do we get over the wall?" I asked.

Mason spoke up. "My men have climbing equipment. We can scale it."

"No," Logan said. "Too risky. If even one person falls or makes noise, we'll alert every guard in the castle."

He continued studying the wall. "There's a drainage grate near the base. It leads to the castle's sewer system. The tunnels connect to the dungeons."

I felt my stomach drop. "We're going through the sewers?"

Logan looked at me. "It's the safest way in. The sewers aren't guarded."

I wanted to argue, but I knew he was right. Still, the thought of crawling through filth in the dark made my skin crawl.

"Alright," I said. "The sewers."

We waited for the guard patrol to pass. Logan counted silently in his head, timing the intervals perfectly. Mason positioned his warriors in pairs, ready to move.

"Now," Logan whispered.

We darted across the open ground toward the castle wall. My heart hammered in my chest. Every second felt like an hour. Any moment, I expected to hear a shout of alarm, the sound of running feet, arrows whistling through the air.

But we made it to the wall without being spotted. Logan dropped to his knees and examined the drainage grate. It was made of rusted iron bars set into the stone.

"Mason, help me with this," Logan said.

Together, they pulled at the grate. It was heavy and corroded, but after several tense moments, it came loose with a grinding sound that seemed impossibly loud.

We all froze, listening.

No alarm. No shouts. The guards on the wall above continued their patrol, unaware.

Logan peered into the dark opening. "The drop is about six feet. The tunnel runs north toward the dungeons. Stay close and watch your step."

He dropped down first, landing with a soft splash in the water below. I went next, and Logan caught me as I fell. The smell was horrible—rot and waste and stagnant water. I had to cover my nose and mouth to keep from gagging.

Mason and two of his warriors followed us down. The rest stayed above to guard our exit route and watch for patrols.

The tunnel was narrow and low. We had to bend over to move through it. The only light came from a small torch Mason had brought, and it cast dancing shadows on the slime-covered walls.

Water dripped from somewhere above. Small things scurried away from our feet—rats probably. The tunnel echoed with our breathing and the splash of our footsteps.

I stayed close behind Logan, one hand on his back so I wouldn't lose him in the darkness. We moved through the tunnels for what felt like forever but was probably only ten minutes. The walls changed from rough stone to worked blocks—we were beneath the castle proper now.