Chapter 49 The Doll’s Grip
"You know my last name..." Elian whispered, taking slow steps away from Cassian.
"Why did you act like you did not know me?" he questioned, his stance turning guarded as he thought of every negative reason.
Perhaps Cassian wanted to get him comfortable around him and strike at his most vulnerable?
"I did not want to make you uncomfortable," Cassian replied gently, remaining in his position so he doesn’t get Elian more disturbed.
Elian shook his head. "I do not believe that. How do you know me by face? Were you present on that day?" He was curious to grasp any information from Cassian.
"I cannot answer your questions now, Elian. The time isn’t right—"
"Captain," a guard walked up to them.
"Yes?" Cassian nodded.
"The King is ready to see him now," the guard informed.
"Do not worry, I will bring him myself," Cassian said, stopping the guard from getting closer to Elian.
"Yes, Captain," the guard nodded and left.
Cassian gave Elian a reassuring smile. "Walk with me, Elian. Trust me, I’m on your side," he murmured, walking toward the opposite wing in the palace.
Elian stared at Cassian’s back and sighed. He didn’t have a choice; so far, Cassian was his only link to actually figuring out what happened with his father. So, no matter how dangerous it might be to get close to Cassian, Elian was ready to risk it. After all, he’d already accepted his fate in Lucien’s, Rowena’s, and King Alaric’s reign... they seemed to really want him dead and gone.
He inhaled deeply and followed Cassian toward the long walkway that led to the King’s wing.
The cream-colored walls gave an illusion of peace as he walked by. But he knew deep down that this castle held so many dark secrets that might make one’s ears and eyes bleed if discovered.
Cassian reached the front of the white, giant, and oval double oak doors and paused.
"You will be fine, Elian. Alright?" Cassian said, looking at Elian as his hand lifted to push the door in.
’Oh, God,’ Elian inhaled shakily and watched the door open with dread in his stomach.
The first thing he saw was the red carpet lining the center of the white marble floor, leading up to where he knew was the King’s throne.
"Come on," Cassian said and walked in first.
"Shit," Elian muttered under his breath.
Reluctantly, he dragged his legs toward the throne room, his fingers digging into his palm.
As he stepped into the throne room, the first thing he noticed was that the King wasn’t alone. By the corners of the room sat almost sixteen elders on long white chairs, their judgmental eyes locked on him like they wanted to execute him then and there.
The King’s throne was slightly elevated from the floor, covered completely in red carpet to contrast the golden, gigantic throne seat he was sitting on. Beside him was his lovely daughter, sitting on the queen’s throne, and right beside Rowena was Lucien, sitting with even more grace and aura than the King himself.
Elian knew now whose side Lucien was on. There was no way Lucien would ever forfeit the throne for him... him, a commoner and a traitor who had no crown to offer him. Instead, he’d bring shame and undermining to anyone who dares to support him.
He reached the front of the elevated throne and paused, bowing his head—a gesture that he’d come to love so much as it hid his face from those corrupt royals.
"Good evening, Your Majesty," Elian greeted, watching as Cassian came up behind him to stand.
The room was quiet for a while before the King spoke up.
"You are your father’s son, are you not?" the King questioned in his slightly raspy voice. His weight must be making it difficult for him to breathe and speak at the same time.
Elian gradually lifted his head, ignoring everyone else in the room to look at the King’s face, avoiding looking at Lucien.
"Yes, I am my father’s son," Elian replied calmly, his soft voice echoing across the large room.
There was no need hiding who he was; everyone knew and hated him already. Why shrink?
"You know then of your father’s sin," King Alaric stated.
Elian’s jaw tightened. From his side eye, he could see Lucien pinning him with an intense gaze—a warning not to be stubborn as usual. Unfortunately, Elian could not care less about what Lucien thought about him anymore; what was the use?
Not a single person in that room would stand up for him, so he was going to stand for himself and his family.
"I am aware of the accusations, Your Majesty—"
"Preposterous!" King Alaric slammed his hand on the thick arm of his chair, his face slightly reddening as his rage rose.
Elian tilted his head slightly in fake remorse, waiting for the King to do whatever he wanted.
"Did you hear him?" King Alaric asked Lucien, pointing his meaty finger at Elian. "He said it’s an accusation. This is what happens when you try to let a traitor walk free!" He snapped, breathing heavily.
Elian saw the way Rowena’s lips twitched into a satisfied smile, her eyes seeking his to mock him.
"I am handling him, Your Majesty," came Lucien’s calm reply.
"Forgive me, Your Grace," a tall, elderly man from the side slowly stood and bowed. "If I may speak?" he asked.
The King waved his hand. "Speak, Lord Magnus."
Lord Magnus cleared his throat before he spoke. "Your Majesty, forgive my boldness, but I believe I’m speaking on behalf of all the council elders seated here. We want to know, why does Duke Valemont insist on keeping the traitor’s son at his side? Surely imprisonment would suffice."
Elian froze, gulping silently. It wasn’t like he did not expect it, but hearing it directly brought back those traumatic nights in the dungeon. He’d rather die than to experience that hell again. Alas, who was he to decide his fate?
Lucien turned his gaze to Lord Magnus, his eyes narrowing into slits as he pinned the man down with his look.
"It is a great question, Lord Magnus. Lucien, shall we now find out the reason you have kept this boy beneath your roof?" King Alaric asked.
Lucien casually stood from his chair, his height towering over the seats as he strode toward the King. He paused in front of the King, bowed slightly, and then climbed down from the elevated throne.
He walked over to Lord Magnus, his hand easily sliding into his pocket.
"Who committed the act?" Lucien questioned in a low voice.
Lord Magnus was confused for a while, but he quickly caught up.
"The commoner, Morel," Lord Magnus supplied.
Lucien nodded, glancing slowly over the elders sitting in front of him. "The man has been executed, hasn’t he, Lord Magnus?" He arched a slow brow, never taking his eyes away from the man’s.
Lord Magnus shifted uncomfortably from Lucien’s gaze. Everyone knew Lucien was intense and avoided whatever would bring them head-on with him, but Lord Magnus had always been the brave, fearless one. But as he stood in front of the young Duke, he wasn’t so sure why he’d decided to speak for his kins.
"That is correct, Your Grace," Lord Magnus replied.
Behind them, Elian was confused. He didn’t let himself rush into conclusions that Lucien was protecting him; he’d tried it before, and it left him shattered.
"The boy will remain under my authority." Lucien’s voice cut clean through the hall, leaving no room for interruption.
"His father’s case is not as simple as it appears. Until I am satisfied..." His gaze sharpened, sweeping across the nobles, "...he will remain where I can see him."
Lord Magnus nodded and immediately settled down.
"Perhaps it would hasten up your investigation if you let us all know what this ’case’ is all about?" Lord Cedric spoke from the other side of the hall.
Lucien smirked and slowly turned, locking his gaze on the short man.
"I believe Cedric is mostly right. This is a council affair; we demand to know the full details—"
"Demand?" Lucien smoothly cut him off, striding over in his elegant, unhurried steps.
He didn’t stop as he walked past Elian, but to Elian, who was paying attention to every minute detail, he saw the hesitation in Lucien’s step as he reached Elian’s front, but he walked past in the end.
He dare not stop. For what?
"You cannot demand, Lord Septimus. You do not demand from me. Are we clear on that?" Lucien asked, stopping a few steps from the men.
Lord Septimus and Lord Cedric bowed their heads in response.
"Apologies for my wordings, Your Grace. But I am simply requesting that we be made known—"
"The law states that the offspring of the guilty shall carry on the guilt, am I right?" Lucien cut him off in a stern voice, his face slowly darkening.
He couldn’t let these old men pry too much; it was time he shut them down before they discovered what they weren’t supposed to... and it wouldn’t even be Elian’s secret power.
"Yes," Lord Cedric nodded.
"And the offended, in this case, that is me, shall have the right to punish the offspring in whichever way he pleases, am I right?" He asked, raising his brows, holding their gazes with a dark challenge.
Both men lowered their heads as they realized that Lucien had once again outsmarted them with the laws they knew before he was even born.
"You are most correct, Your Grace," Lord Septimus said.
"Good," Lucien nodded, walking back to stand in front of the King, consciously or unconsciously blocking Elian from the King.
"Then, the young Morel and his mother shall be only my business. You do not have to worry about them; I will see that they are punished accordingly, Your Majesty." He bowed slightly.
King Alaric nodded slowly. "Well-spoken, Lucien. You just make sure you keep keen eyes on them. If their father tried it once, they will keep trying until they succeed," he stated.
Lucien nodded once. "I will heed your advice, Your Majesty," he replied.
"Father," Rowena suddenly stood, her face a mask of hurt and pain.
Lucien straightened, sensing the moment Elian froze behind him. He knew Elian was beside himself with fear and uncertainty, but he could do nothing in front of the King; he could do nothing even in the King’s absence.
The law was the law; going against it would put him against the law, which would ruin him.
He watched Rowena’s face, seeing nothing but hurt on her face, but then he recalled what Elian had told him. A greater part of him knew that Elian was not lying, but for both their sakes, he chose to go with the part that told him that Elian just hated the princess.
"Do you have concerns, my angel?" King Alaric asked his daughter.
Rowena faced the room, looking past Lucien’s shoulder to find Elian staring at her with dread in his eyes.
"I only have one request, Father," Rowena spoke softly. "Staying over in Lucien’s home, it has given me a closer knowledge of who Elian Morel is." She stepped down from the elevated throne, walking around Lucien to get to Elian.
She found herself between a quiet Cassian and Elian, hooking her arm around Elian’s.
Elian was outrightly scared and worried for himself; he knew Rowena was up to something that would end up very badly for him, and this time, he could feel that Lucien’s logic might not be able to save him from Rowena’s claws.
Rowena easily pulled Elian out from behind Lucien’s back, bringing him directly in front of the King.
Elian’s gaze was cast down, his pulse skipping and racing as his mind kept bringing up the worst things Rowena could ever think of.
"Elian made me feel so comfortable during my visit. He might be a male, but he is a decent man. Therefore..." she flashed Elian a sweet smile, "may I request that whatever claim is held over him be lifted and he come to the palace to be my very own personal guard?" she said in the gentlest of voices, hugging Elian’s arm like a girl would hug her favorite doll.
The throne room plunged into silence at Rowena’s request, but in Elian’s head, the voices were louder than ancient drums.
Without being told, he knew... this was his end.