Chapter 17 A WEB YET UNSEEN
“Prince Eric,” he said again, “after the knife fell, what happened next?”
Eric’s voice softened. “Nothing"
“You mean you don't remember anything after that?” Lysander asked.
“No.”
Lysander turned to the chief adviser. “We’ve reached the limit of what hypnosis can extract. His memories are fragmented… but consistent.”
The adviser nodded solemnly. “Guard, release him and Talen from the trance.”
A guard stepped forward with a small vial of counter-incense. Eric inhaled gently. His posture loosened and his eyes blinked back into awareness.
He looked around in confusion. “What… what happened?”
Adrian stepped toward him. “You told us what you remembered, Eric.”
“What did I say?”
There was silence.
The Queen closed her eyes. “Enough for us to understand… you were not yourself.”
Eric looked helplessly between them. “I didn’t hurt Father, right?.”
“No one is claiming you did, yet other evidences are against you, Eric.” Adrian said quietly.
“Exactly,” one minister whispered, loud enough for others to hear. “The prince’s refusal to confess does not erase the evidence.”
“Refusal is not innocence,” another added.
A third murmured, “Nor is it guilt. You saw how confused he was and he had been controlled.”
“Controlled,” someone repeated skeptically. “Convenient.”
Whispers spread like slow-burning fire. Every murmured assumption formed another link in the chain tightening around Prince Eric.
But the Queen remained still.
Her mind worked quietly beneath the surface of her serene expression. She had waited for years for her sons to grow into men capable of leading the realm.
She had always believed that Adrian was the gentler, more controlled and wiser in court matters and better suited to rule. But Eric, had gained love and loyalty among the people.
The King’s hesitation to choose a successor threatened to divide the realm.
And so, she had acted.
She had sent a man who was a skilled, anonymous agent to temporarily restrain Eric, to ensure he would be too weak to influence the King’s final decision. She had sent the man to intervene. Her intention was simple to protect her sons from each other and prevent civil war by guiding the realm into a stable future.
As the hall resumed its anxious murmuring, the Queen’s thoughts moved through years of decisions, some made in calm reason and others in desperation.
She knew he had been present when Eric entered the King’s chamber. She knew he had been the one who struggled with Eric before withdrawing.
But she did not know everything that followed nor did she know the source of the fragrance that overwhelmed Eric’s mind.
She did not know who had placed the knife in Eric’s hand and did not know who had ensured her own plan that was carefully designed to protect her sons will spiral into a disaster.
Bringing the man forward now would shatter the fragile veil she held over the truth. He could not defend Eric without exposing her. He could not deny involvement without creating more questions.
Even worse, he could implicate Eric indirectly if he really saw everything, but she could not allow that.
Not when suspicion already hovered dangerously close.
Only one thing was certain. There was a second manipulation and a hand that was moving pieces across the board. But she wasn't sure who it was.
The chief adviser finally raised a hand. His voice cut through the noise.
“Silence.”
The word echoed sharply as conversations halted. Ministers straightened in their seats,. even as the guards paused.
“Prince Eric hasn't admitted harming the King,” the adviser said, “but denial alone cannot serve as proof of innocence.”
Eric looked up sharply. “I did not harm him.”
“But you tried to. Yet you remember very little,” the adviser replied sternly. “Of a masked man, a man at the tower which we believe is the eye witness that was killed. But we require more than fragments.”
Eric pressed his lips together. “The truth perhaps, is what I have given.”
“And yet,” the adviser continued, “the court cannot depend entirely on memory clouded by hypnotism when an eye witness who was not hypnotized confessed you harming the king.The same man you mentioned on the tower.”
Lysander faced Prince Eric and stepped forward. “Your highness, with respect, the account you mentioned matches what I observed in the investigation. The unknown second person had blood traces from the wound near the west corridor and the details are consistent. But we cannot dismiss them.”
The adviser hesitated. Lysander’s reputation for accuracy was renowned. But the political reality was not simple. The King was injured and the realm demanded clarity. And Eric’s scattered memories offered admittance or denial for hurting the king.
Not only on him, Princess Emelia’s name had surfaced as well. The witnesses and the guards’ testimonies placed both of them in positions that could be twisted into implication. Even though neither had offered any admission of guilt, their silence and confusion had given the court room to shape its own conclusions.
“Consistency does not nullify suspicion and evidence,” the adviser said at last.
Lysander stepped forward again, his deep voice cutting through the noise with measured precision.
“Your Grace,” he addressed the chief adviser, “this case requires more than hurried debate. We need time to re-examine the evidence. I request the trial be adjourned so that I may review each detail thoroughly and make the right judgement.”
The adviser considered him. “Lysander, the realm grows restless and the people demand answers soon.”
“They deserve correct answers,” Lysander replied. “Not rushed conclusions.”
A few ministers nodded while others frowned. But Lysander’s reputation carried weight as his accuracy and integrity had defined his service for decades.
Athalia stepped forward politely. “Perhaps we should allow him to rest. The prince has been through much today.”
Finally, the adviser exhaled. “Very well, then.
He looked over the hall, measuring the pressure in the room. “We cannot give the people an answer today,” he announced. “Nor can we condemn without full certainty. The investigator will review the case privately. His judgment will be delivered when he is ready.”
Relief washed across the hall, though it was thin and brittle.
He turned to the Queen. “Your Majesty, do you wish to add anything?”
The Queen lifted her gaze. Her voice remained quiet, composed and impeccable.
“I wish only for the truth,” she said.
“We reconvene when the investigation is complete,” the adviser announced.
“Until then, Prince Eric shall be returned to confinement and Princess Emelia is to remain under supervision.”
Eric stiffened. “You mean to imprison me again based on speculation?”
“Until a judgment is made,” the adviser said firmly. “Guards.”
Two guards stepped forward.
Eric stood unsteadily as Adrian supported him. The Queen watched them go, torn between love and guilt.
Eric turned to Lysander with a frustrated gaze. “Lysander, you know I would never…”
“I know you, your highness,” Lysander said, his tone steady. “But the truth requires time, please allow me that time.”
Eric swallowed hard. “I trust you.”
The guards led him away.
But Athalia remained still and was silently gathering the shifting suspicions in the room.