The next day, the court assembled in the great hall.

  But this was different from the usual proceedings. Every noble in the capital had been summoned—not requested, summoned—by royal decree. The galleries were packed. People stood shoulder to shoulder, whispering frantically, speculating about what could possibly warrant such an urgent gathering.

  The Forgotten Princess had been poisoned. The Hero had saved her life. Someone would answer for this crime.

  But who?

  The King sat on his throne, his face carved from stone. Beside him, the Queen twisted her handkerchief between trembling fingers.

  Francesca stood among the other courtiers, her face perfectly composed, though her eyes kept darting to the doors. Waiting. Wondering. She wore her finest gown—sapphire blue with silver threading—and stood with her usual circle of admirers.

  Alec stood before the throne in full ceremonial armor, his cape bearing the royal crest. His expression was grave.

  Behind him, palace guards held a trembling maid in chains.

  The hall fell silent as the King raised his hand.

  "We have gathered you here today to address a crime most heinous," the King's voice boomed across the hall. "Three days ago, an attempt was made on the life of our daughter, Princess Estelle. Poison was placed in her tea. Were it not for the swift action of Sir Alec Veyron, she would have died."

  Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Everyone's eyes turned to Estelle, who shrank further into her chair.

  "Sir Alec has investigated this matter thoroughly," the King continued. "He will now present his findings. Speak, Sir Alec."

  Alec bowed deeply. When he rose, his golden eyes swept across the assembly.

  "Your Majesty. Lords and Ladies of the realm." His voice carried clearly through the hall. "I have discovered the truth behind this assassination attempt."

  The crowd leaned forward.

  "This maid—" He gestured to the woman in chains. "—was the one who administered the poison. She placed it in Princess Estelle's tea with her own hands."

  Gasps and angry mutters filled the hall. The maid sobbed, shaking her head.

  "But she did not act alone," Alec continued. "She was following orders. Someone else orchestrated this crime. Someone with access to the princess's chambers. Someone who had everything to gain from Princess Estelle's death."

  The hall went deathly quiet.

  "Who?" The King leaned forward, his voice sharp with authority. "Name them at once."

  Alec turned slowly.

  His eyes scanned the crowd—passing over lords, ladies, servants—before finally landing on one figure.

  He pointed.

  "Princess Francesca."

  The King froze.

  For three heartbeats, no one moved. No one breathed.

  Then the hall exploded.

  "WHAT?!"

  "The First Princess?!"

  "Impossible!"

  "He must be mistaken!"

  The King's face had gone completely white. He gripped the armrests of his throne so hard his knuckles turned bone-white.

  "No." His voice was barely audible beneath the chaos. "No, that's—Francesca?"

  Francesca stood in the crowd, her face drained of all color. She looked like she might faint.

  "What? No. No, that's—that's absurd!" Her voice came out strangled. "This is—Father, this is a lie! Someone has framed me! You can't possibly—"

  "Sir Alec." The King's voice shook. "Are you... are you certain?"

  The entire hall fell silent again, watching.

  Alec bowed his head. "Yes, Your Majesty. The evidence is irrefutable."

  "There must be some mistake." The King stood from his throne, his movements jerky, uncertain. This was not the commanding ruler who'd faced down rebellions and foreign armies. This was a father confronting the impossible. "Francesca is—she's my daughter. She would never—"

  "Father, of course I wouldn't!" Francesca's voice broke. "Please! You know me! I would never hurt Estelle! Tell him! Tell them this is madness!"

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  The King looked at her—really looked at her—and for a moment, hope flickered across his face. His firstborn. His pride. The daughter he'd for greatness.

  "The maid has confessed," Alec said quietly. "She has sworn before witnesses that Princess Francesca personally gave her a substance to put in Princess Estelle's tea."

  The King turned slowly to the maid. "Is... is this true?"

  The maid was sobbing so hard she could barely speak. "I—I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I'm so sorry—"

  "ANSWER ME!" The King's voice cracked like a whip. "Did my daughter—did Princess Francesca give you poison?"

  "She—" The maid's whole body shook. "She gave me a powder, Your Majesty. Three days ago. She told me to put it in Princess Estelle's afternoon tea. She said—she said it was harmless. Just to make the princess sick. I swear I didn't know it was poison! I swear!"

  "LIAR!" Francesca shrieked. "You lying wretch! Father, she's lying! Don't believe her!"

  The King stood frozen between his throne and his daughter, his face ashen.

  "Please." The word came out as barely a whisper. He looked at Francesca with desperate, pleading eyes. "Please tell me this isn't true. Tell me you had nothing to do with this."

  Francesca's lips trembled. Tears streamed down her face.

  "I didn't try to murder her," she whispered.

  Not a denial. Not exactly.

  The King's face crumpled.

  "Oh gods." He staggered back a step. "Oh gods, Francesca, what did you do?"

  "It wasn't supposed to be poison!" The words burst out of her. "I swear, Father! It was just—I just wanted to—"

  She stopped, her hands flying to her mouth, her eyes wide with horror as she realized what she'd just admitted.

  The hall erupted in chaos again, but the King didn't seem to hear it.

  He just stared at his daughter. His firstborn.

  "You..." His voice was hollow. Empty. "You just confessed."

  "No! Father, no, I didn't mean—" Francesca took a step toward him, her hand outstretched. "I didn't poison her! I didn't! It was just supposed to be a laxative! Just to embarrass her! She's always been so perfect, always your favorite—I just wanted to humiliate her for one day! That's all!"

  The Queen made a sound like a wounded animal.

  The King closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were wet.

  "Guards," he said quietly.

  No one moved.

  "Your Majesty?" One guard asked uncertainly.

  The King's jaw worked. His hands trembled at his sides. He looked at Francesca one more time—memorizing her face, perhaps, or searching for some sign this was all a nightmare.

  "Seize..." He had to stop. Clear his throat. Try again. "Please take Princess Francesca."

  The words came out broken. Reluctant. Like each syllable was being torn from his chest.

  "FATHER, NO!" Francesca screamed. "PLEASE!"

  The guards hesitated, looking between the King and the Princess.

  "QUIET Francesca!" The King roared, and the sound was filled with such anguish that several nobles flinched.

  The guards moved.

  They grabbed Francesca's arms. She fought them, screaming, clawing.

  "FATHER! FATHER, PLEASE! I'M YOUR DAUGHTER! YOUR FIRSTBORN! YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!"

  The King turned away. He couldn't watch.

  "Bring her forward," Alec said quietly.

  They dragged Francesca through the crowd. Nobles scrambled out of the way, their faces shocked, horrified, fascinated. She was thrown to her knees before the throne.

  The King forced himself to turn back. To look down at his daughter kneeling on the floor where she'd played as a child.

  "Tell me the truth." His voice shook. "All of it. Did you give that maid something to put in your sister's tea?"

  Francesca's face was streaked with tears, her carefully pinned hair coming loose. She looked up at her father—the man she'd spent her whole life trying to please, trying to impress—and saw nothing but heartbreak in his eyes.

  "Yes," she whispered. "But Father, I swear—"

  "What was it?"

  "A—a laxative. Just a laxative. To make her sick. To embarrass her." Francesca's voice was desperate, pleading. "It wasn't poison! I would never—I don't know how it became poison! Someone must have switched it! Someone must have—"

  "Why?" The King's voice broke. "Why would you do this? To your own sister?"

  "Because you love her more!" Francesca screamed. The words echoed through the silent hall. "You've always loved her more! The forgotten princess, the perfect little gardener who never causes any trouble! Who everyone feels sorry for! And I—I'm supposed to be the heir! I'm supposed to be the one you're proud of! But you barely look at me anymore!"

  The King staggered back as if she'd struck him.

  He closed his eyes.

  When he opened them, something had changed. Hardened.

  "Take her to the dungeons," he said, and his voice was empty now. All the emotion drained out. "She will await trial."

  "Father, PLEASE!" Francesca lunged forward on her knees, reaching for him. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'll do anything! Please don't send me away! FATHER!"

  The guards pulled her back.

  "NO!" Francesca's scream was inhuman. "YOU CAN'T! I'M YOUR HEIR! I'M—"

  She caught sight of Clara, her maid. the maid who was still kneeling nearby, sobbing.

  "This is YOUR fault!" Francesca screamed. She lunged at the woman, got her hands in her hair, and pulled viciously. The maid shrieked. Francesca clawed at her face, her neck, screaming incoherently. "You RUINED me! You were supposed to be CAREFUL! I'll KILL YOU!"

  It took four guards to pull her off.

  "TAKE HER!" The King roared, his voice breaking. "Take her NOW! I can't—I can't look at her anymore!"

  The guards dragged Francesca toward the doors. She fought them every step, screaming curses at Estelle, at the maid, at her father, at everyone.

  "I HATE YOU! I HATE ALL OF YOU! YOU'LL REGRET THIS! FATHER! FATHER, LOOK AT ME! PLEASE! PLEASE JUST LOOK AT ME!"

  But the King had turned away, one hand pressed to his face.

  The doors slammed shut.

  Silence fell like a guillotine.

  The Queen had collapsed in her throne, weeping. Prince Edward stood frozen, his face pale as death. The nobles didn't dare whisper—they'd just watched a king break.

  The King stood alone in the center of the hall, his back to everyone. His shoulders shook.

  No one moved. No one spoke.

  Finally, he drew a shuddering breath.

  "This court is dismissed," he said without turning around. His voice was hoarse. Destroyed.

  No one moved.

  "Leave us." This time it was barely a whisper. "Please. Just... leave us."

  The nobles fled in silence, not daring to speak until they were out of the hall.

  Within minutes, the vast chamber was empty except for the royal family and Alec.

  The King finally turned. His face was ravaged, aged a decade in mere minutes. Tears still wet on his cheeks.

  He looked at Alec.

  "Sir Alec."

  Alec bowed. "Your Majesty."

  "You..." The King's voice cracked. He had to try again. "You saved my daughter's life. You uncovered this... this betrayal." He looked toward Estelle, who sat trembling in her chair. "I thought I knew my children. I thought..."

  He couldn't finish.

  "I only did my duty, Your Majesty."

  The King nodded absently. He seemed lost. Broken.

  "Thank you," he whispered. "You may go."

  Alec bowed once more and turned to leave.

  He looked away quickly and left the hall.

  Behind him, he could hear the Queen sobbing. Could hear the King's ragged breathing as he tried to hold himself together.

  The first daughter, disgraced.

  The first scandal.

  The first crack in the perfect facade.

  This was only the beginning.

  End of Chapter 14