Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 207 - Two Hundred And Seven

The moon was a sliver of ice in the black sky, offering scant light to the sprawling complex of the Royal Palace. The air was cold, biting through the thin layers of Derek’s black attire.

He adjusted the mask over his face, leaving only his eyes exposed—dark, focused, and deadly.

Behind him, four shadows moved in perfect sync with his breathing.

The Elite Shadows.

They were masters of stealth, trained to walk on dry leaves without making a sound, to blend into the darkness until they were nothing more than a trick of the light.

Derek signaled with a sharp, silent hand gesture.

Move.

They scaled the outer wall. It was fifty feet of smooth stone, guarded by archers on the battlements. Derek threw a grappling hook, the padded claws catching the stone silently. He pulled himself up, hand over hand, his muscles burning. He reached the top and rolled over the parapet, landing in a crouch.

The guard was ten feet away, staring out at the city. Derek moved. He covered the distance in two strides. He wrapped his arm around the guard’s neck, squeezing the artery. The man slumped unconscious without a sound.

Derek lowered him gently to the stone floor.

The Shadows followed, landing beside him like cats.

They moved into the inner sanctum. The palace was a labyrinth of corridors, courtyards, and guarded doors. Derek knew the layout from memory, from childhood visits.

They reached the entrance to the Royal Dungeons. This was the target. If Liam had Nigel, he would be here, in the deepest, darkest cells reserved for traitors.

Derek signaled again. Two Shadows peeled off to disable the guards at the gate. A moment later, the way was clear.

Derek slipped inside. The air was damp and smelled of rust and misery. He moved down the spiral staircase, counting the levels.

One. Two. Three.

The third level was for high-value prisoners. He checked the cells one by one. He peered through the small, barred windows.

He saw a thief sleeping on a cot. He saw a disgraced noble weeping in the corner. He saw a political dissident pacing his cell.

But he did not see Captain Nigel.

He checked again. He checked the interrogation rooms. He checked the secret holding cells that only the Royal Family knew about.

Empty.

Derek stopped in the center of the corridor. His brow furrowed beneath his mask.

"He isn’t here," Derek thought, a cold knot of confusion tightening in his stomach. "Liam took him. I know he did. So where is he?"

He turned to the Shadow beside him.

"Stay," Derek whispered, his voice barely audible. "Search the records. Search the guard logs. Find out where they took him. Find out if he was moved."

The Shadow nodded once. "Yes, Your Grace."

Derek signaled the others. Retreat.

They moved back up the stairs, out of the dungeon, over the wall, and into the night. The infiltration had been perfect. But the result was a failure.

~ ••••• ~

Derek returned to the Thompson estate just as the first grey light of dawn was touching the horizon. He changed out of his black attire, hiding it in the secret compartment of his wardrobe. He washed the sweat and grime from his face.

He needed to see her. He needed to see Marissa.

He walked to her bedchamber. He opened the door quietly.

She was asleep. She lay on her side, her hair spread out on the pillow, her breathing slow and peaceful. She looked pretty.

Derek stood by the bed for a long moment, just watching her. He felt a surge of protectiveness so strong it made his chest ache. He wanted to touch her face, her lips, her hair but that might wake her up so he let her sleep. She needed her rest.

He backed out of the room, closing the door with a soft click.

He walked down the hallway toward his study. His mind was racing. If Nigel isn’t in the palace, where is he? Is he dead? Did Liam kill him on the road? Or is he in a safe house?

He turned the corner.

He stopped.

He felt it. A presence. A disturbance in the air.

Someone was in the hallway.

He didn’t see anyone. The corridor was empty. But his instincts, honed by years of training, screamed at him.

Behind the pillar.

Derek didn’t hesitate. He reached into his boot. He pulled out a short, throwing knife.

He spun around.

He threw the knife.

It flew through the air, a silver flash in the torchlight. It aimed directly at the dark shadow behind the marble column.

Thunk.

There was a sound of impact. But it wasn’t the sound of a knife hitting stone. It was the sound of a knife hitting flesh.

A figure stepped out from behind the pillar.

It was the Elite Shadow. The one he had left behind at the palace.

The man was dressed in his black attire. He held his left hand up. The knife was embedded in his palm, the blade having pierced through his hand when he caught it to stop it from hitting his chest. Blood dripped from his fingers onto the floor.

Drip. Drip.

Derek lowered his arm. He recognized the man.

"You," Derek said.

The Shadow didn’t flinch. He didn’t make a sound. He pulled the knife from his hand with a wet shluck and offered it back to Derek, hilt first.

He dropped to one knee, ignoring the blood flowing from his wound.

"Your Grace," the Shadow said. His voice was flat, professional.

Derek took the knife. He wiped the blood on his trousers.

"Report," Derek commanded.

"Captain Nigel," the Shadow said, looking up with grim eyes. "He is not in the Eudora. He never was."

Derek frowned. The confusion deepened.

"What do you mean?" Derek asked. "The troops brought him back to the kingdom."

"No," the Shadow corrected. "The troops returned. But they returned without prisoners. I checked the gate logs. I checked the stable records. No prisoner wagon entered the city with Prince Liam’s convoy."

Derek stared at him.

"So he didn’t bring him here," Derek whispered. "He left him."

"Or," the Shadow suggested, "he took him somewhere else. Somewhere private. Somewhere off the books."

Derek’s mind raced. Strathmore. The monastery. The road.

"It’s getting more complicated than I thought," Derek murmured.

He looked at the Shadow’s bleeding hand.

"Go to the infirmary," Derek ordered. "Get that treated."

"Yes, Your Grace."

The Shadow bowed and vanished into the shadows, leaving Derek alone in the hallway.

Derek stood there, gripping the knife. The puzzle was missing a piece. And he had a terrible feeling that finding it would cost him more than just sleep.

"Where are you, Nigel?" Derek thought.