Chapter 4: A Pawn to a King
The cell grew colder as the hours passed, but I didn't mind. Cold sharpened the senses, and I needed mine in peak condition. The faint sound of boots against stone echoed from the corridor—a sound I'd been waiting for.
Someone had taken the bait.
The footsteps were deliberate, heavier than the usual patrol. The guard I'd spoken to earlier had been careful to drop just enough hints about my behavior to stir curiosity, and now, the first player had arrived on the board.
I straightened my posture as the figure emerged from the shadows: Captain Harlow himself. His polished armor caught the dim torchlight, and his sharp eyes locked onto me with the suspicion of a man accustomed to schemers.
"Erenhart," he said, his tone clipped. "I hear you've been... restless."
I allowed myself a faint smirk. "It's hard to stay idle when your life is on the line, Captain. Surely you can understand."
Harlow's lips thinned, but he didn't respond immediately. Instead, he gestured for the guard accompanying him to unlock the cell. The door creaked open, and Harlow stepped inside, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword—a clear warning.
"I don't have time for games," he said, his voice low. "If you're plotting something, I'll make sure your execution is moved up."
"Plotting?" I tilted my head innocently. "No, Captain, I'm merely trying to survive. And as it happens, I might have information that could be useful to you."
Harlow raised an eyebrow but didn't interrupt.
I leaned forward, lowering my voice. "Lady Aria's death wasn't an accident, and it wasn't me. You know as well as I do that someone with her influence wouldn't be killed so carelessly. Whoever orchestrated this has a plan—and I doubt you or the Crown Prince are part of it."
Harlow's expression remained stoic, but the faint flicker of interest in his eyes was enough to tell me I'd struck a nerve.
"You're saying you have proof?" he asked.
"Not yet," I admitted. "But I can find it—if I'm given the means to do so. Otherwise, you'll execute an innocent man while the real culprit tightens their grip on the kingdom."
Harlow's gaze hardened. "Convenient story. But why should I believe you?"
"Because you can't afford not to," I said simply. "If I'm lying, you lose nothing. But if I'm telling the truth, and you let me die without investigating, the consequences could be catastrophic. Aria wasn't just a noblewoman—she was a keystone in the kingdom's stability. Her death is a threat to more than just the Valcrest family. It's a threat to the entire realm."
Harlow's jaw clenched, and for a moment, I thought he might draw his sword. But instead, he stepped back, his hand leaving the pommel.
"I'll speak to the prince," he said. "But if this is some kind of trick, Erenhart..."
"It's not," I assured him.
Harlow didn't respond. He turned on his heel and left the cell, the door slamming shut behind him.
---
The next day, I was escorted out of the dungeons under heavy guard. My wrists and ankles remained shackled, but the air was fresher here—less oppressive. I was led into a smaller, private chamber within the palace, where Crown Prince Alaric awaited me.
Alaric sat at the head of a polished oak table, his piercing blue eyes cold and calculating. He was dressed in dark, understated clothing that contrasted with his regal bearing, and his fingers tapped rhythmically against the table as I entered.
"Erenhart," he said, his voice as sharp as a blade. "Captain Harlow tells me you claim to have information about my fiancée's death."
I bowed as best as I could with the chains. "Your Highness, thank you for granting me an audience."
"Skip the pleasantries," Alaric said curtly. "Speak."
I straightened, meeting his gaze. "Lady Aria's death wasn't random. Someone orchestrated it, and they've gone to great lengths to frame me for it. If you allow me to investigate, I believe I can uncover the truth."
"And why should I trust you?" Alaric asked, leaning forward slightly.
"Because I have no reason to lie," I said. "If I'm guilty, I'll be executed anyway. But if I'm innocent, you risk letting a dangerous enemy go unchecked. Your Highness, you're a man who values logic above all else. Isn't it logical to give me the chance to prove myself?"
Alaric studied me in silence, his gaze unrelenting. Finally, he spoke.
"You have three days," he said. "No more. If you fail to provide evidence, your execution will proceed as planned. Do you understand?"
"Perfectly," I said, suppressing a smile.
Three days. It wasn't much, but it was all I needed.
---
That evening, I was moved to a more comfortable holding area—still under guard, but with access to resources I could use. A small desk, parchment, and quills had been provided, along with a modest meal. It was a start.
I began drafting a list of suspects, focusing on those who stood to gain the most from Aria's death. The political landscape of the kingdom was a tangled web of alliances and rivalries, but one name stood out:
Duke Renar Calderon.
Renar was a known opponent of the Valcrest family, his ambitions thinly veiled behind a façade of loyalty to the crown. He had both the motive and the means to orchestrate Aria's death.
But motive wasn't enough. I needed evidence.
And to get it, I'd need to play my most dangerous card yet: romance.
---