Adrian's POV
The first soldier to arrive pointed a sword at my throat.
"Give me one reason not to turn you in for twenty thousand gold," he growled.
I didn't flinch. "Because that money comes from the man who murdered his own father."
The sword didn't move. "Prove it."
Marcus stepped forward with Elara's documents. "King Wilhelm was poisoned for over a year. I have the physician's notes. Cassian killed him slowly while pretending to care."
The soldier—a young man with burn scars on his arms—read quickly. His face went pale.
"Gods," he whispered. "We've been serving a murderer."
"And he'll kill more," I said quietly. "Starting with anyone who threatens him. Like you, if you refuse his corrupt orders. Like your families, if you speak against him." I met his eyes. "Or you can help me stop him."
The soldier lowered his sword. "I'm listening."
Within an hour, thirty-seven guards filled the abandoned barracks. Not the fifty Marcus hoped for, but enough. They all had the same look—bitter, angry, tired of Cassian's corruption.
"Why should we trust you?" a woman with a captain's insignia demanded. "You're the Mouse Prince. You've never fought for anything."
"You're right. The old Adrian didn't fight." I stood in the center of the room, letting them see me. "But I'm not him anymore. I've changed. And I'm offering you a choice: keep serving a king who'll eventually kill you, or help me build something better."
"Better how?" another guard asked. "You're one prince with no army, no money, no power. Cassian has everything."
"Cassian has force. I have something stronger—information." I thought of Dante's empire, built on secrets and blackmail. "I need people who know this kingdom's underbelly. Thieves, smugglers, spies. People Cassian ignores because they're beneath him."
The guards looked confused.
"You want criminals?" the scarred soldier asked.
"I want eyes and ears everywhere Cassian isn't looking." I pulled out a bag of gold—Elara's contribution. "Marcus, you know this city. Who runs the underworld?"
Marcus smiled grimly. "The Shadow Market. Every thief, smuggler, and information broker in the kingdom passes through there. But Your Highness, those people don't trust nobles. They'll gut you for your rings."
"Then I won't go as a noble." I looked at Seraphina. "I need disguise. Something that makes me look like I belong in dark alleys."
She studied me, then grabbed dirt from the floor and rubbed it on my face. Messed up my hair. Tore my shirt.
"There. You look like a street rat." She handed me a knife. "Don't get killed."
"I'll try."
Marcus led me through hidden tunnels under the city. The deeper we went, the darker it got. Water dripped from stone walls. Rats scattered at our footsteps.
"The Shadow Market operates in the old sewers," Marcus explained. "No guards patrol here. It's their kingdom."
We emerged into a massive underground chamber lit by hundreds of stolen torches. Stalls lined the walls—selling everything from stolen jewelry to illegal weapons. People moved through shadows like ghosts.
"Stay close," Marcus warned. "One wrong word and we're dead."
I approached the nearest stall—a woman selling information, her face hidden by a hood.
"I need to speak to whoever runs this place," I said.
She laughed. "And why would the Shadow King talk to you?"
"Because I have gold and a proposition that'll make him richer than any theft."
The woman studied me, then whistled. Three large men appeared, surrounding us.
"This way," she said.
They led us deeper into the market, through passages that stank of rot and blood. Finally, we reached a chamber where a man sat on a throne made of stolen furniture.
The Shadow King. Probably forty years old, with scars covering his arms and murder in his eyes.
"A prince in my kingdom," he said, amused. "Marcus, you've brought me a prize. Should I sell him to Cassian or kill him myself?"
"Neither." I stepped forward, ignoring Marcus's warning hand. "I'm here to hire you."
The Shadow King laughed. "Hire ME? Boy, I could buy and sell you ten times over."
"Not anymore. Cassian's hunting me. My assets are frozen." I met his eyes the way Dante used to face rival bosses. "But I can offer you something better than money. Protection. Legitimacy. When I take the throne, every criminal who helped me gets pardoned. Clean slate."
Silence fell across the chamber.
"You're insane," the Shadow King said. "You can't beat Cassian."
"Maybe not alone. But with your network? Every thief, every smuggler, every spy you control becomes my eyes. I'll know Cassian's moves before he makes them. And when I win—and I WILL win—you get rich AND safe." I pulled out the gold bag. "First payment. For information about Cassian's plans."
The Shadow King took the bag, weighing it. "What makes you think I won't just take this and sell you anyway?"
"Because Cassian will kill you eventually. He's already planning to 'clean up' the city—that means wiping out the Shadow Market. You're on his execution list." I leaned closer. "I checked. Your name's third, right after me and General Ashford."
The Shadow King's face went deadly still. "How do you know that?"
"Because I'm smarter than Cassian thinks. So here's the deal: work with me, or die with everyone else Cassian considers trash."
For a long moment, the Shadow King stared at me. Then he smiled—a predator's expression.
"You've got guts, prince. Stupid guts, but guts." He extended his hand. "Deal. But if you betray me, I'll make Cassian's death threats look gentle."
We shook hands—a mafia boss and a crime lord, sealing an alliance in darkness.
"Tell me everything about Cassian's security," I said. "Guards, schedules, weaknesses. I need it all."
The Shadow King whistled. Immediately, five people emerged from shadows—his best spies.
"Tell him," he ordered.
They talked for an hour. Revealed everything—Cassian's secret meetings, his affair with Vivienne, his plans to execute me publicly during the coronation, his deals with enemy kingdoms.
My mind absorbed it all, filing away every detail.
"One more thing," I said. "I need eyes on someone. Lady Vivienne Ashford. Every move she makes, everyone she meets. Can you do that?"
"Already on it," a female spy said. "She's interesting. Meets someone in secret every night. Same person for months."
"Who?"
"Don't know yet. They're careful. But I'll find out."
I nodded, satisfied. Within one night, I'd built the foundation of a spy network that would make Dante proud.
Marcus and I returned to the barracks as dawn broke.
Seraphina rushed to meet us. "Did it work?"
"Better than expected." I was exhausted but exhilarated. "We have eyes everywhere now. The criminals are ours."
"And the guards?" Seraphina asked.
"They're staying. All thirty-seven. Marcus is organizing them into squads." I looked around at our small, ragtag army. "It's not much, but it's a start."
Elara appeared from the shadows, her face grim. "I have news. Cassian moved up the coronation. It's tomorrow."
My blood ran cold. "Tomorrow? That's impossible—"
"He's scared. Your escape, the rumors about Vivienne's lies, the guards questioning his orders—he's rushing to secure power before things fall apart." Elara's gray eyes were hard. "We're out of time. Whatever we're going to do, we do it tomorrow. At the coronation ceremony."
"In front of the entire kingdom," I said slowly.
"It's the only way. Public exposure. Show everyone what he is." Elara pulled out more documents. "I have everything—the poison, the murder, the treason. But you need to present it. Make them believe."
"They think I'm a rapist and a traitor. Why would they listen?"
"Because," Seraphina said quietly, "I'll stand with you. The Silver Phoenix, back from the dead. They'll listen to me."
My chest tightened. "That puts a target on your back."
"I've had one for two years. What's one more day?" She smiled grimly. "Besides, watching Cassian's face when I walk into that coronation alive? Worth dying for."
A spy burst into the barracks, gasping for breath.
"Your Highness! The Shadow King sent word!" The spy's face was white with terror. "Vivienne's secret meetings—we found out who she's been seeing."
"Who?" I demanded.
"The ambassador from the Mordain Empire. Our enemies." The spy swallowed hard. "She's selling military secrets. Has been for three years. And tomorrow, during the coronation chaos, Mordain troops are going to invade. They're already at the border."
The world tilted.
Cassian wasn't just a murderer.
He was starting a war.
And we had less than twenty-four hours to stop it.