Chapter 23
Augustus's POV
Hearing Isabella's words, my hands clenched involuntarily against the armrests of my chair.
Grok's face went ashen, all color draining from his features as he staggered back a step. "My lady, I—Your Majesty, please—" His hands came up in supplication, fingers trembling. "I would never—I have served loyally for decades! My devotion to the throne is absolute!"
"Still lying?" Isabella's voice cracked like a whip as she advanced on him. "I've watched you maneuver and scheme for years, Grok. Always positioning yourself, always calculating. Did you think I was blind to how desperately you covet Selas's position?"
I remained perfectly still in my chair, one leg crossed over the other, my expression carefully neutral as I observed the scene unfolding before me. My golden eyes tracked every shift in posture, every flicker of emotion.
Lina stood frozen, her green eyes wide with shock. Something twisted in my chest at the sight of those blistered hands, but I forced the feeling down and kept my face impassive.
"Your Majesty, I beg you—" Grok bent forward desperately, his hands clasped together, his voice breaking. "I am innocent! I have never betrayed your trust! This is a terrible misunderstanding!"
Isabella whirled to face me, her expression fierce and righteous. "Your Majesty, surely you see it now? This wretch orchestrated everything—the pendant, the tapestry, all of it—to discredit this mongrel and elevate himself in your eyes!"
I tilted my head slightly, studying Grok's face with clinical detachment. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the chill in the room, his breathing shallow and rapid. "Your Majesty," he gasped, "I swear on my life—I have done nothing wrong! Lady Isabella is mistaken!"
Isabella's chin lifted, her eyes flashing. "Your Majesty, who else would have both the access and audacity to steal your personal effects? Who else would benefit from framing a lowly slave? He arranged everything—isolating the mongrel, ensuring she worked alone. This was about making himself indispensable to you!"
I considered this, my expression giving nothing away. "Well, Grok?" I asked softly, my voice carrying an edge that made him flinch. "What do you have to say?"
"I—Your Majesty—" Grok's voice cracked, his composure shattering. "I am innocent! This is a conspiracy to destroy me! Please, you know I would never betray you!"
I watched him grovel, feeling nothing but faint distaste. Then Isabella moved, stepping forward with fluid grace. "Take him away," she commanded coldly. "Twenty lashes with the thorn whip."
Grok made a strangled sound of terror. "No! Your Majesty, please!"
"Enough." I raised one hand, and silence fell instantly. I let my gaze travel from Isabella to Grok and finally to Lina, who sat watching with an expression I couldn't quite read—exhaustion and pain, yes, but also a sharp intelligence that missed nothing. My jaw tightened at the sight of her.
I turned back to Isabella. "You are certain of his guilt?"
Isabella's smile was sharp as broken glass. "Absolutely certain, Your Majesty. He should be punished severely to set an example."
I considered this for a long moment, watching the color drain from Grok's face. Then I nodded slowly. "Very well. As you wish."
Two guards stepped forward and seized Grok under the arms. "No! Your Majesty, please! I am innocent!" His protests dissolved into incoherent pleading as they dragged him toward the door.
Isabella turned to me with a satisfied smile, her hand settling on my chair. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
I said nothing, merely inclined my head. Then my gaze shifted to Lina, studying her with an intensity I couldn't explain. She had gone very still, her eyes fixed on the doorway, her expression unreadable.
Isabella followed my gaze and walked toward Lina with deliberate grace. "Since you've been proven innocent this time, I suppose I must release you. Consider yourself fortunate, mongrel."
Lina's head bowed lower. "Yes, my lady. Thank you for your mercy."
"Go. Return to your duties before I change my mind."
Lina rose slowly, her movements stiff and painful. She kept her eyes lowered as she turned toward the door. I watched her walk away, noting the careful control in every step, the way those ruined hands hung at her sides. She could have asked me for help. One word, and none of this would have been necessary. But she chose suffering over surrender.
Stupid girl.
"Your Majesty?" Isabella's voice pulled my attention back, her fingers trailing along my arm. "Won't you stay a while longer? I've missed your company terribly."
I felt my jaw tighten with irritation. "I have matters to attend to. I'll visit you this evening."
"But Your Majesty—" Isabella caught at my sleeve, her eyes wide and pleading. "Surely you can spare just a few more minutes?"
"This evening," I repeated firmly, extracting myself. "I gave you my word."
"You promise?"
"I never break my promises," I said, the words harsher than intended. I was already moving toward the door, Moros and Selas falling into step behind me.
I strode out and down the corridor. The corridor opened onto a window overlooking the courtyard. I stopped abruptly, my gaze sweeping across the snow-covered grounds. White and pristine, unmarked. She was gone, and the knowledge sent another surge of anger through my veins.
"Your Majesty?" Selas's voice came from behind me. "Where shall we proceed?"
I drew in a slow breath, forcing my expression back to cold neutrality. "Back to the chamber. And Moros—full surveillance on the rebel networks. Report anything unusual directly to me."
"Understood, Your Majesty."
I turned from the window and continued down the corridor. But as we rounded the next corner, some instinct made me glance back—and there, just disappearing around a distant turn, I caught a glimpse of grey fabric and golden hair.
My eyes narrowed. She hadn't left at all. She'd been hiding, waiting for me to pass. The realization hit like a physical blow, equal parts rage and something darker, more possessive.
I forced myself to look away, to continue walking as though I'd noticed nothing. Let her hide. Let her skulk in shadows like some frightened mouse. It changed nothing.
A cold smile curved my lips as I walked. She thought she could evade me? She thought hiding around corners would keep her safe?
Foolish girl. She could run to the farthest corner of the citadel, could press herself into the deepest shadow. It didn't matter. As long as she remained within these walls, she was mine.