Chapter 7 - A Pawn No Longer
"Treason!" Salieri screamed, slamming his cane against the floor. "Guards! Seize them both! They are conspiracy theorists trying to overthrow the Council!"
Instantly, half of the guards in the room drew their weapons, pointing them at Roman and Clara. But before a trigger could be pulled, Marco and twenty Duca elite operatives burst through the balcony doors and upper walkways, rifles aimed squarely at Salieri’s men.
"Hold your fire!" shouted Don Camillo, the oldest neutral member of the Council, standing up from his seat. Camillo approached the table, picked up the pendant, and examined Clara’s shoulder closely. Tears welled in the old veteran's eyes. "It is her... By God, it is Victor’s daughter. The crown mark is genuine. No surgeon on earth can replicate the natural Valente pigmentation."
Camillo turned to the other council members. "Twenty years ago, we were told Victor died without an heir, and we allowed Salieri to take control of the trade routes. We were lied to!"
"She is a girl!" Salieri spat, drawing a hidden derringer from his coat pocket. "She cannot rule!"
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Roman moved with blinding speed. He stepped between Salieri and Clara, grabbing Salieri’s wrist and snapping it with a sharp twist. The tiny gun clattered to the floor. Roman threw the old man onto the marble table, pressing his blade against Salieri’s throat.
"She does not rule alone," Roman whispered into Salieri’s ear, his voice deadly calm. "She rules with me."
