Chapter 159: Secrets
The room was full to the brim, fuller than she had expected.
Were this many people so eager to witness the downfall of Jarren Straught? Only half the congregation had been present during their first trial.
Claire glanced down at her dress, wondering why people were staring at her so boldly. The dress she had chosen was a drab green one, not one of the fancy ones Yeren had gifted her. And she wasn’t wearing the necklace he had given her either.
In simple words, she had taken care to dress like a ’servant’.
But as she continued down the aisle in search of space, she felt a piercing gaze on her. Unable to shake it off, she glanced up.
And there he was, leaning back leisurely against his throne, dressed in a regal attire of grey, white and black.
But that wasn’t what drew her. It was the way he was looking like her like she was the only person that mattered in the entire room. The thought made her insides stir but she quickly pushed it aside, reminding herself that he planned to get rid of her as soon as possible.
There had been no ti to see Aurora and she hadn’t even said farewell before she left for the Town square with the King. But she knew Rory would be dying to hear about the ruins and the old buildings that no longer existed in the Capital.
Finding a spot with among fancily dressed won, who seed to all be wearing bright pink dresses with matching shawls and fans.
Claire regretted joining them the mont she did. All of them scrunched up their noses in disdain, as if it were a slap in their faces to be joined by a peasant.
"She’s the daughter of one of the council mbers - the one that was executed." One of them whispered.
"I thought they said she was very pretty. That was why she beca the King’s Cupbearer."
Claire tried to ignore them, but they didn’t seem to care that she could hear them as clearly as she could see them.
But the mont Yeren nodded at the courtier to begin, they all fell silent.
Uncle Jarren was dragged forward from a door at the rear by his silver chains.
Claire had to gasp along with the crowd. Apart from his lost arm, he looked... tortured. Like a shell of the man he once was. His eyes looked sunken, his skin pale, his lips cracked and stained with dry blood.
What had they done to him?
Her eyes lifted to the man seated on the throne?
For a second, he looked half as stunned as she was, but he blinked and quickly composed himself.
"Read his cris." Was all he said.
His clothes seed to have been reduced to rags, but from the looks of the guards standing around him, she couldn’t shake the feeling that his pitiable condition was self-inflicted.
The courtier rolled opened a long scroll and began to read.
Gasps kept erupting as more and more of his cris were aired out. Even Claire was shocked at so of them.
When the man was done, he rolled the scroll back and sealed it before turning to look at the King.
Everyone turned to him as well as they waited for his judgent.
Instead, Yeren sank back into his chair and requested for a goblet of wine.
What was his problem with wine? She wondered.
He took a sip and searched the crowd until his gaze landed on hers.
Claire felt her hands trembling under the weight of his gaze.
Why wasn’t he saying anything?
So people followed his gaze and realized who he was staring at for the second ti during the court session.
"I made a promise to soone dear to
that I would put an end to your generation." He began.
Claire gulped.
"Killing you would not be enough. You raided your King’s party, forcefully kidnapped him and held him captive, and all for what? To tamper with sothing that doesn’t belong to you."
Claire gulped again.
From the confused looks on the faces around them, it was clear that the King was speaking in parables. Only those who had been involved knew what matter he spoke of.
And she had been involved.
"But before that, you may confess your cris."
Jarren lifted his head, a deadly glare in his eyes and spat in Yeren’s direction.
Murmurs erupted through the crowd.
"Hang him!" Soone in the crowd volunteered.
"I should have pinned her and ravished her, ravished her until there would be nothing left for you." Uncle Jarren spat out, a haughty laugh following his words.
A chill ran through Claire.
"She’s just like her mother, they both thought they are better than , but deep down, they are whores!"
Then, Uncle Jarren turned towards the crowd, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on her.
"But," He laughed grimly, his voice dark, "I ravished your mother in the end. And she died giving birth to my child."
That wasn’t true.
Their father has told them that she had run away and that they were never to speak of her again, then after a year, he told them that she had died of a flu south of Reden.
Was Uncle Jarren speaking the truth? Her mother had been raped?
His eyes still fixed on her, he continued. "I wish I put a child in you as well! To see you swollen with my child-"
He didn’t complete his sentence.
He had been so fast that Claire hadn’t even noticed when he moved, but in a blur, Yeren was strangling Uncle Jarren, lifting him high above the ground such that his feet dangled in the air.
The whispers started again, but Claire couldn’t hear them. Her legs started trembling, threatening to release her to gravity.
Then, she recalled what the old woman had said about Jarren, her father and her mother.
He had loved her mother, but her mother had chosen her father instead of him.
Was that why he hated her? Because she looked like her mother?
The ground beneath her seed to shift and wind gushed over her.
"Sobody, catch her!" A shrill voice shrieked.
That was the last thing she heard.
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