My chambers had become a gilded cage. The guards outside my door weren't the academy's; they were the prince's personal retinue, their imperial gold livery a clear message. I was under Cassian's direct control "for my safety" while he decided my fate.
The hours crawled by. The garden's chaos had been muffled by thick stone walls, but I could feel the academy vibrating with scandal. Through my window, I saw clusters of students whispering, their gazes flicking up to my window. The story was being rewritten by a hundred different tongues.
Rosalind Thorne, the jealous villainess, was caught trying to poison the prince!
No, she was framed by Seraphina Vale!
Did you see the Duke of the North? He tasted the poison!
They say Lady Seraphina confessed everything!
I knew the last one was false. Seraphina would never confess. She would twist, lie, and use every shred of influence her family had. This wasn't over.
A knock, different from the guard's staccato rap. Softer. "Rosalind? It's Elara. I've brought food. They'll let me in."
The door opened, and Elara slipped inside, carrying a tray. Her usual cheerful demeanor was gone, replaced by grim concern. She set the tray down and hugged me fiercely. "By the Frost, that was insane. Are you alright?"
"I'm... intact," I said, my voice hollow.
"Intact is a good start." She pulled back, studying me. "My brother is in with the headmaster, the prince, and what's left of the Vale delegation. He's being... very loud. For him." A ghost of a smile touched her lips. "He doesn't believe you did it. He called the evidence 'contrived' and said only an idiot would poison a cup in front of two hundred witnesses, and while you might be reckless, you're not an idiot."
A strange warmth bloomed in my chest. He was advocating for me. "He's risking his standing."
"Kaelen doesn't care about standing. He cares about truth. And patterns." Her gray eyes grew serious. "He said the pattern was wrong. The poison was too obvious, the frame too hasty. It smelled like a desperate move, not a calculated one. He thinks Seraphina panicked because her original plan failed."
She was far too perceptive. "What about Gavin Selwyn?"
"In the dungeons, singing like a canary to save his neck. He's confirmed Seraphina gave him the vial and told him it was a laxative. He's given up the ledger, the debt, everything. It's damning for her." Elara paused. "But it doesn't fully clear you, Rosalind. You were there. Your hand was near the cup. The narrative that you were the mastermind, and Gavin and Seraphina were your tools, is still... possible."
Cassian's narrative. The one he would be crafting right now.
As if summoned by the thought, a new knock came—authoritative. The door opened to reveal not a guard, but Prince Lucian. He looked tired, but his stormy eyes were alert.
"Elara," he nodded. "I need a moment with Lady Thorne."
Elara squeezed my hand and left without a word, closing the door behind her.
Lucian didn't sit. He stood by the window, back to me. "My brother is in a rage. Not a shouting rage. A quiet, cold one. His perfect event is ruined, his primary tool is exposed, and his secondary tool—you—didn't behave like a tool at all. You behaved like a wrench thrown into his machinery."
"He'll try to salvage it," I said.
"He will. And he has advantages. Gavin is a weak witness. Seraphina will deny everything and play the victim of a conspiracy between a desperate gambler and a jealous rival. The physical evidence—the vial—was in your proximity when it was discovered, not hers." He turned to face me. "He could still make the story of your guilt stick if he chooses to. It would be messy, but possible."
The cold pit in my stomach returned. "What does he want?"
"Control," Lucian said simply. "He wants the anomaly contained. You have two choices now, as he sees it. You can become a controlled variable—publicly exonerated by his magnanimous investigation, forever in his debt, and returned to your role as a quiet, obedient noble. Or you can remain an unpredictable anomaly, in which case he will have you removed from the board. The poisoning charge is his lever."
"So I either bow or I break."
"Or," Lucian said, his voice dropping, "you find a third option. A counter-lever so powerful he cannot move against you without destroying himself."
"What leverage could I possibly have?"
He met my gaze. "The Duke of the North has publicly aligned himself with your innocence. That is a political fact now. My brother cannot simply disappear on you without consequence. Kaelen is not a man you ignore. Use that. But understand—by accepting his protection, you tie your fate to his. You become a piece in the North-South power struggle. Are you prepared for that?"
I thought of Kaelen's hand on my arm, leading me from the garden. You just turned their pretty game into a war.
"I think I already am," I whispered.
A faint, approving smile touched Lucian's lips. "Good. Then here is what will happen. The official inquiry will be tomorrow. My brother will preside. Seraphina and Gavin will tell their stories. You will tell yours. And Kaelen will be there, observing." He stepped closer. "Stick to a simple truth. You stumbled. You saw the vial fall. You don't know who put it there. You are a victim of circumstance and the tragic malice of others. Play the confused, wronged noblewoman. It's a role they'll understand. Let Kaelen and the facts chip away at Seraphina. Do not try to outmaneuver my brother directly. Not yet."
It was good advice. "And what will you do?"
"I will be the voice of tedious, procedural integrity. I will insist on evidence, on cross-referencing the apothecary's logs with the Vale accounts, and on investigating Seraphina's movements. I will slow my brother down and make the process just transparent enough that a blatant miscarriage of justice would be noticed." He sighed. "It's not much, but it's what I can do."
"Thank you, Your Highness."
"Don't thank me. We are aligning against a common enemy for the good of the empire. See it through, Lady Thorne." He turned to leave, then paused. "One more thing. The City Watch dredged the decorative pond this afternoon, as per an anonymous tip. They found nothing, of course, because the poison wasn't there. But they did find something else. A locket. Belonging to a maid who went missing from the Vale household last year. The one who originally purchased the moonbell root before she 'ran away.'" He gave me a long look. "An interesting coincidence. Almost as if someone wanted to ensure that if the poison plot failed, Seraphina would still be connected to a deeper crime."
My anonymous note had borne unexpected, dark fruit. Seraphina's sins ran deeper than I knew.
After Lucian left, the silence felt heavier. I was a pawn being fought over by princes and dukes, my survival hinging on their power plays.
As dusk fell, the guard outside my door shifted. I heard a low, familiar voice. "Stand aside."
The door opened again. Kaelen filled the doorway. He had changed from his formal attire into simpler dark clothes. He looked like he hadn't slept.
He stepped inside and closed the door. For a long moment, he just looked at me, his expression unreadable.
"Tell me," he said, his voice a low rumble. "The truth. Not the pretty story you'll tell tomorrow. Did you know the vial would land in his cup?"
I held his silver-gray gaze, the thread between us burning bright. I could lie. I should lie.
"No," I said, the truth leaving me in a rush. "I meant to knock it from Gavin's hand toward the pond. I miscalculated. It was a mistake."
He absorbed this, then gave a single, slow nod. "A costly mistake. But an honest one." He walked to the window, looking out at the darkening grounds. "Lucian told you your position?"
"He did. I am a piece in your struggle now."
"Our struggle," he corrected, glancing back at me. "You declared war in that garden. I merely chose a side." He turned fully, crossing his arms. "My men have the apothecary. He's confirmed the Vale orders and the maid's disappearance. The evidence is solid. It will be enough to bury Seraphina Vale. But it may not be enough to fully lift suspicion from you in the court of public opinion, which is the court that matters to Cassian."
"What do I do?"
"Tomorrow, you will be quiet. You will be calm. You will let the evidence speak. And you will not look at my brother when he questions you." His eyes hardened. "You will look at me."
The order was absolute. "Why?"
"Because," he said, taking a step closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "when you look at him, he sees a puzzle to be solved. When you look at me, the court sees a ward under my protection. They see a connection they cannot explain but will not dare challenge. They will assume sentiment, or alliance, or something else. But they will see that to move against you is to move against the North. And that is a calculus even the Crown Prince must weigh carefully."
He was offering himself as my shield. Again. Just as he had on the battlefield.
"Why?" I breathed, the question torn from me. "Why would you do this? You don't know me."
He was silent for a long time, his gaze searching my face as if the answer were written there. "I don't know," he said finally, the words seeming to surprise even him. "But when I saw that vial fall... I remembered the dream. The feeling was the same. That I had to stand between you and the blade." He shook his head, a frustrated gesture. "It makes no sense. But in my territory, when a wolf knows a storm is coming, it doesn't need to know why. It just knows to seek shelter. Consider this your shelter, Lady Thorne. For now."
He left without another word, leaving me alone with the echo of his presence and the terrifying, exhilarating realization: the thread between us was no longer just fate.
It was a choice. His choice.
The inquiry is tomorrow. The war had begun.