Chapter 447: A Father’s Suspicion
The king’s gaze hardened, almost imperceptibly. "Accidents happen," he replied coolly. "Even to those we cherish."
Their eyes locked—king and father, predator and hunter—neither blinking, neither yielding.
At last, Ralden stepped closer, breaking the tension with a placid smile. "You have my word that justice has been done. The careless servants have been punished, and the queen’s comfort is my top priority."
Sapiro said nothing. He knew that "punished" could an anything in this palace.
His attention returned to the baby, now sleeping peacefully once more. "May I na him?" he asked softly, though the question carried the weight of a challenge.
Ralden hesitated. He had already planned to na the boy himself during the public ceremony the following day. But denying the suspicious father would draw suspicion.
"Of course, but only the second na. He is my son after all." he said smoothly. "What would you have him called?"
Sapiro’s gaze softened as he whispered, "Rafael."
Ralden’s jaw tightened ever so slightly, but he inclined his head. "Rafael, it shall be. My son will be called Raeldin Rafael."
The people would hear the na Raeldin, a tribute to himself, and Rafael would just be a second thought and unimportant. But let the old man have his illusion.
Sapiro lingered by the cradle, his expression unreadable. Then, almost casually, he said, "I’d like to remain in the palace for a few days. Until my daughter recovers."
Ralden’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. "Of course. You’re family. Stay as long as you wish."
But behind that calm facade, unease rippled. The Lireyan prince was no fool. His questions were too sharp, his eyes too observant.
When Sapiro and his n finally withdrew from the nursery, Ralden remained behind. The room, monts ago filled with gentle light, now seed dim. He gazed down at the sleeping infant, his reflection shimring faintly in the polished cradle rail.
"You will be my legacy," he murmured. "My blood, my heir. You are lucky you were born at the right ti."
The baby stirred, as though in answer.
Ralden’s hand hovered briefly over the child’s chest before withdrawing.
From the shadows near the doorway, his secret guard erged—a silent figure dressed in black.
"Keep watch on the Lireyan prince," Ralden ordered quietly. "He’s beginning to ask too many questions. And find out who that tall man is in his guards. There’s sothing about him I don’t like."
The guard bowed soundlessly and vanished into the hall.
Ralden turned back to the cradle, the faintest trace of a smile curving his lips.
"Soon," he whispered, "they will all see that the curse is broken. And none will dare to question how."
...
That night, the palace slept under a heavy sky. Storm clouds gathered over Ra-Iya’s towers, pressing low and silent, as though the heavens themselves were holding their breath.
In the guest wing, Prince Sapiro sat alone by the window, the lamplight tracing deep lines across his weathered face. His royal robe had been removed, yet he sat upright — a father in grief.
Below, the courtyards were dark save for sconces in the outer walls. Palace guards patrolled in pairs, their movents disciplined, too uniform — and too quiet.
It was not the silence of peace. It was the silence of watchfulness.
A knock sounded.
"Enter," Sapiro said without turning.
The door creaked open, and the tall man who had stood beside him during his arrival stepped in, bowing slightly.
"Your Highness," he said. His voice was deep, calm, with a faint rasp that hinted at years of command.
Sapiro gestured to the empty chair. "Sit, Ja-el."
The man obeyed, his heavy boots making no sound on the carpet. For a mont, neither spoke. The tension between them was not discomfort but understanding — the wordless bond of n who had seen too many wars and lost too much.
Finally, Sapiro spoke. "You saw her condition."
The man nodded grimly. "Yes, Your Highness. I am not sure, but from what I see, it was no accident. The marks on her arms — faint bruises near the elbow — I’ve seen their like before. A restraint mark. Soone held her down."
Sapiro’s hand tightened around his cup. "You’re certain?"
"I would swear it on the throne of Lireya."
The older man exhaled slowly, his gaze falling to the floor. "Zanzara trusted him," he murmured. "She said she was happy here."
"Or perhaps she wanted you to believe she was," The man said quietly. "A woman trapped learns quickly to hide her fear."
Sapiro’s jaw clenched. He looked toward the window again, where lightning now flickered beyond the distant mountains. "Ralden claims she slipped. And that his servants were punished."
"Convenient," the man said. "Punish the dead or the voiceless. No one left to tell the truth."
Elsewhere, in the dim secret room of the royal wing, Ralden watched the feed and listened to the conversation.
"...the marks on her arms..."
Ralden laughed. "Foolish. The marks are easy to explain. I can even show them a video if they ask for it."
Back at the guest’s chamber, Ja-el the guard, saw sothing flicker in the gap between the door and the floor.
He faltered for a short mont but recovered quickly.
"Your Highness, we are scheduled to visit the Hope Orphanage tomorrow."
Sapiro just humd, and then he looked at Ja-el cautiously. But Ja-el had already left and he approached the door.
The guard spun around, his dagger flashing — only to find himself staring into the cold eyes of Ja-el, who now stood in front of the door, arms folded.
The guard tried to recover, bowing stiffly. "Apologies. It is the king’s orders to keep the guest safe."
"I know what your king orders," Ja-el interrupted softly. "And I know the kind of n he chooses to carry them out."
The guard hesitated. Sothing in the man’s tone, quiet and steady, was more dangerous than an open threat.
"Tell your king," Ja-el continued, "that the Lireyan prince is safe."
Before the guard could respond, Ja-el moved. A blur of motion — a hand striking the guard’s wrist, another twisting the dagger away. The weapon clattered to the floor.
The guard’s throat bobbed. "Y–yes, Commanderl."
Ja-el released him, and the man fled into the shadows.
He stood alone in the corridor for a long mont, listening to the echo of retreating footsteps. Then he stooped, picked up the dropped dagger, and slipped it into his belt.
He returned to Sapiro’s chamber. The prince looked up as he entered.
"Problem?"
"None that will reach us tonight," Ja-el replied. Then, after a pause, he mouthed, "But they’re listening, my lord. Everywhere."
Sapiro’s eyes narrowed. "Then we move carefully. At dawn, I’ll request to see Zanzara again — this ti without the king hovering over ."
"And if he refuses?"
Sapiro’s voice was low, steady. "Then we’ll find another way."
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