Aramis moved like lightning, his boots striking hard against the marble floor as he crossed the throne room. The faint scrape of retreating footsteps echoed beyond the doors—too quick and too careless.
With a sharp motion, he flung the doors wide. The corridor beyond was dim, the afternoon sunlight spilling weakly over stone walls. A figure in a black cloak darted toward the archway at the far end.
"Stop!" Aramis's voice cracked like thunder, but the figure only ran faster.
Glint flashed as Aramis drew his sword. In six long strides, he closed the gap, the blade sweeping down in a blur. With a cry, the intruder stumbled forward, a dagger clattering from his grasp as Aramis pinned him hard against the wall.
Lara followed swiftly, her eyes narrowing as she ripped back the hood.
A young court scribe stared back at them, his face pale with terror, sweat glistening on his brow. He tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat.
