The silence in the throne room was absolute, broken only by the ragged, terrified sobs of Lady Jane.
The council mbers stared, their mouths agape, at the Crown Prince who stood over his mistress like an executioner.
Jane curled into a ball on the cold marble steps, her hands clutching her torn dress. Her mind was a whirlwind of panic.
"What is he going to do to ?" she thought, her heart hamring against her ribs. "He knows. He knows I tried to kill Marissa. But why drag here? Why in front of the King? Why call a traitor?"
She looked up at him, searching for any sign of the man she loved, but found only a monster.
"What?" the King asked, his voice trembling with shock. He sat up straighter on his throne, gripping the armrests until his knuckles turned white. "Liam, what is the aning of this? Why are you treating Lady Jane this way? She is a noblewoman! She is your..."
He couldn’t finish the sentence. Your mistress.
Liam didn’t look at his father. His gaze was fixed on the cowering woman at his feet.
"Everything will be clear soon, Father," Liam replied, his voice cold and steady.
Lord Grayson, who had been frozen in horror, finally broke. He rushed forward, his face pale, his hands reaching out.
"Jane!" he cried. "My daughter!"
He moved to help her, to shield her from the Prince’s wrath.
But Liam moved faster.
With a deadly grace, he raised his sword. The steel tip stopped inches from Lord Grayson’s throat.
Lord Grayson froze, his eyes crossing as he looked at the blade. He swallowed hard.
"Are you admitting you are involved with the treachery?" Liam asked softly.
The question hung in the air, heavy with accusation.
Lord Grayson shook his head frantically. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
"No!" Grayson stamred. "No, Your Highness! I would never betray my kingdom! I am loyal! I serve the King!"
"But your daughter did," Liam spoke, his voice ringing through the hall.
He looked down at Jane with disgust.
"She betrayed us," Liam declared. "She sent ssages. She sold our secrets. She is the reason our spies are blind."
He looked back at Lord Grayson, his eyes narrowing.
"And I am sure she wouldn’t have acted on her own," Liam said. "She is not smart enough. Soone gave her the instructions. Soone who wanted money. Soone who wanted war."
He looked Lord Grayson in the eyes.
The council mbers murmured. They looked at Grayson. They rembered his greed earlier. They rembered how desperate he was to fill the treasury for a war he seed to want.
"Grayson," Lord Vance thought, his eyes widening. "He wanted war for profit. Did he sell our secrets to the West to provoke an attack? Did he use his own daughter as a pawn?"
The pieces fit. The greed. The fear-mongering. The connection.
Jane saw the trap closing. She saw her father’s doom in the eyes of the council. She lunged forward, grabbing Liam’s leg with both hands.
"Your Highness!" she sobbed, pressing her face against his boot. "I’m sorry! I will never disobey you again! I will do anything!"
She wasn’t apologizing for treason. She was apologizing for trying to kill Marissa. But to the room, it sounded like a confession of guilt.
"Please spare and my father!" Jane begged. "We would never betray the King! Please!"
She looked up at him, her eyes pleading. She knew what he was doing. He was framing her. He was using her jealousy to cover up sothing else, or simply to punish her in the most absolute way possible. He was involving her family to ensure she had no allies left.
"Please," she sobbed, her voice breaking. "Please forgive ."
Lord Vance stepped forward, his face grave.
"What proof do you have, Your Highness?" Vance asked. "These are heavy accusations."
Liam didn’t speak. He simply lifted his hand and signaled.
"Brooke," he said.
Brooke, the silent aide who had been standing in the shadows, bowed. He turned and left the room.
A mont later, he returned. He carried a small, silver tray. On it were several pieces of paper. They were burnt at the edges, crumpled, and stained with soot.
He walked to the council table and placed them down.
"We intercepted these," Brooke said. "At the border."
Each of the council mbers took a letter. They leaned in, reading the script.
It was Jane’s handwriting. Unmistakable.
The letters spoke of troop movents. Of the King’s health. Of the lack of defenses at Strathmore. They were addressed to a contact in the West.
Lord Ferris gasped. "This... this is treason."
Lord Grayson snatched a letter. He read it. His hands shook. It looked like Jane’s writing. But he knew she hadn’t written it. Or had she?
"Did she do this?" Grayson thought, panic rising. "Did she try to help by starting a war? You foolish girl!"
The evidence was damning. The greed of the father, the access of the daughter. It was a perfect story.
King Alistair stood up. He looked old and broken. He looked at Jane, the woman his son had favored, now revealed as a snake.
"Lock them up," the King instructed, his voice hollow. "Both of them. Prepare for their execution in two days."
"No!" Lord Grayson scread. "Your Majesty! It is a lie! I am innocent!"
He fell to his knees, weeping, realizing that his ambition had just beco his grave.
Liam didn’t look at the King. He didn’t look at the council. He sank to his knees, bringing his face level with Jane’s.
She was now clutching his shirt, her tears soaking the cotton . She looked at him with a mixture of love and terror.
"Liam..." she whispered.
Liam leaned in close. His lips brushed her ear.
"I warned you," he whispered.
He didn’t wait for her to reply. He didn’t wait for the guards.
He shifted his grip on his sword.
With a sudden, violent thrust, he drove the blade forward.
SHINK.
The sword pierced Jane’s chest. She gasped, her eyes going wide. She slumped against him, her blood staining his clothes.
The room scread.
Liam held her, his face a mask of cold, unfeeling justice.
"I warned you," he said again.
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