Chapter 8 - The Betrayal Unmasked
Back within the heated walls of the royal infirmary, the citadel’s master healer worked feverishly to restore warmth to Sirsha’s frostbitten hands and feet.
Caelan refused to leave her bedside. He sat in a high-backed wooden chair, holding her hand in both of his massive ones, his gaze fixed on her face like a guardian dragon guarding its most precious hoard. The brief moments of unconsciousness she had experienced in the snow were gone, replaced by a quiet, steady exhaustion.
The heavy oak door creaked open, and General Vane stepped inside, snapping a sharp military salute.
"My King," Vane reported, his expression grim. "We interrogated Lord Morgran and the captured council members. They confessed to conspiring against the crown. But... they revealed something else. Something about how Lady Isolt orchestrated the entire smear campaign from within the lower courts."
Caelan’s head snapped up. His eyes flared with a lethal, demonic gold. "Isolt."
"She’s currently packing her quarters in the south wing, trying to slip out through the supply gates with a chest full of stolen royal jewels," Vane added, his hand resting on his sword hilt. "Shall I have the guards drag her to the courtyard?"
"No," Caelan said, his voice dropping into a chillingly calm, lethal register. "I will handle her myself."
Minutes later, down in the damp, stone-flagged export corridors of the lower citadel, Isolt was frantically shoving glittering diamond necklaces and gold coins into a leather traveling pouch. Her hands shook as she heard heavy, measured boots echoing down the corridor.
"Going somewhere, Isolt?"
The voice was like grinding ice.
Isolt froze, dropping a handful of rubies that scattered across the stone floor with a sharp clatter. She slowly turned around to face Alpha King Caelan.
The king stood framed in the torchlight, his towering frame casting a massive, suffocating shadow over her. Behind him stood two royal guards holding drawn broadswords. But it wasn't the guards Isolt feared; it was the murderous, bloodthirsty aura radiating from Caelan’s eyes.
"Your... Your Majesty," Isolt stammered, forcing a trembling, artificial smile to her lips. "I was merely... inspecting the storage inventory on behalf of—"
"Save your lies for the executioner," Caelan interrupted, his voice dangerously soft. "For twenty-four years, you abused, starved, and mentally tortured the most sacred soul in this kingdom. You thought you could break her spirit, mock her silence, and hand her over to the wolves."
Isolt dropped to her knees, her face turning pale with abject terror. "Please! I raised her! I kept her alive!"
"You kept her as a slave," Caelan snarled, taking a slow, deliberate step closer. "And tonight, your debt comes due."
He didn't raise a weapon. He didn't need to. With a flick of his wrist, he signaled the guards.
May you like
"Strip her of all titles, strip her of every copper coin she ever stole, and banish her permanently to the deepest, coldest salt mines of the outer border," Caelan ordered coldly. "If she ever sets foot in the Thorn provinces again, execute her on sight."
As Isolt shrieked and clawed at the stone floor while being dragged away into the dark dungeons, Caelan turned on his heel and walked back toward the upper citadel. The shadow over the castle was finally lifting.
