Chapter 345: The Rescue Plan
Without a word, Alaric spun toward the polished brass pole—Lara’s unconventional idea, once scoffed at by his generals, now a vital escape route in moments like this. He grasped it and launched himself downward, descending all twelve stories in a blur of speed and muscle. Wind roared past his ears. In seconds, he landed with precision on the ground floor, his boots thudding softly on the polished stone.
Outside, his warhorse Arion stood waiting, a majestic black stallion with eyes like embers and flanks rippling with power. Alaric mounted in a fluid motion, and with a sharp kick, they were off—galloping through Calma’s winding cobblestone streets like a bolt of lightning cutting through the early morning.
The mansion had once belonged to Calma’s mayor. Now, it was Lara’s home—a betrothal gift Alaric had given her, not for luxury, but as a fortress of freedom. A symbol of her independence.
He burst through the gates without pause. Servants scrambled as Arion skidded to a halt in the courtyard. Alaric dismounted, cloak flying behind him, and strode into the drawing room.
Lara stood waiting, hands clasped, as if she had sensed him coming. Her copper brown eyes met his with immediate concern. No words were exchanged as he pressed the rolled paper into her hand.
She read silently, her expression darkening with every line. Her hands trembled just slightly.
"I need to go to the capital," she said quietly. "My father... my brothers..." Her voice tightened. "But I am worried about my mother in Carles. And Arabella... she is heavily pregnant. She cannot be left alone, not now."
Alaric nodded, already thinking two moves ahead. "I’ll send Angus and your uncle to get them. Gideon and Peredur will go as well. They’ll take the hidden route through Mount Ourea—it’s faster and keeps them off the main roads."
Lara hesitated. She didn’t want to leave, not when so much was at stake here. But the truth was in her voice—clear and cutting: "If I don’t act now, I’ll lose them all."
"I’ll go with you," Alaric said softly, taking her trembling hand in his. "Every step."
Their eyes turned north—toward the capital. Toward the firestorm rising.