Chapter 23
Kieran
They brought Elias to my private study—not the throne room, not the interrogation chamber. Somewhere quieter. More personal.
If this were truly betrayal, I wanted to see it in his eyes.
He looked worse than when I'd last seen him.
His hair was disheveled, his clothes rumpled, and there was a tremor in his hands that hadn't been there a week ago.
The fractured quality of his mind had gotten worse—I could see it in the way his gaze couldn't quite focus, the way he flinched at sounds that weren't there.
But when he saw me, something cleared in his expression. Recognition. And fear.
"Your Highness." His voice cracked. "What's happened? The guards wouldn't tell me—"
"Sit." I gestured to the chair across from my desk.
He sat, and I watched him take in the evidence laid out before him. The gold. The sigil. The letters. The map.
The color drained from his face.
"I don't..." He reached for the purse of gold, then pulled his hand back like it had burned him. "I've never seen this before."
"It was in your quarters. Hidden beneath a loose floorboard in your chambers."
"That's not—I didn't—" He looked up at me, and the confusion in his eyes was genuine. I'd known this man for decades. I knew when he was lying.
This wasn't lying. This was bewilderment.
"The vampire who tried to kill Merrit," I said, keeping my voice level. "His last words were your name. He said you promised him something."
"What?" Elias’ voice pitched higher. "No. No, I would never—Your Highness, you have to believe me. I would never betray you. Never."
Merrit stood beside me, her focus on Elias. To Solis, it would look like she was concentrating, trying to catch impressions, but through our connection, I felt her diving into his thoughts.
"Then explain the evidence," I said.
"I can't!" His hands shook as he gestured at the items. "I don't know where any of this came from. The gold, the letters—saints, that's my handwriting, but I don't remember writing those words. I don't remember—"
He stopped, his breath coming faster. "There are gaps. Days I can't account for. Times when I wake up somewhere and don't remember how I got there. I thought I was just tired, stressed, but—"
Merrit's certainty surged into me. “He's telling the truth. His mind is fractured, controlled. Someone's been giving him orders he can't remember, making him do things and then wiping the memory.”
“You're sure?”
“Yes. The pattern is the same as the vampire. But Elias has been controlled for longer. Months, maybe.”
I kept my expression neutral, but inside, relief and fury warred. Relief that Elias hadn't betrayed me. Fury that someone had violated his mind, turned him into a weapon against me.
"Merrit," I said aloud. "What are you getting?"
She signed carefully, each movement deliberate: "Confusion. Genuine fear. Like he truly doesn't remember. The bond is showing me... gaps. Empty spaces where memories should be."
It was close enough to the truth. And vague enough not to reveal too much.
Solis frowned. "Mind control. Like we suspected."
"Someone's been using you," I told Elias. "Planting evidence. Setting you up to take a fall."
"I'm so sorry." His voice broke. "I didn't know. I swear I didn't know."
"It's not your fault." The words came automatically, even as my mind raced through implications. "Someone's been in your head. Making you do things, then erasing your memory of it."
"Then drink my blood." Elias offered his wrist immediately, desperate. "See for yourself. See that I'm telling the truth."
I wanted to. Saints, I wanted the certainty that would come from tasting his blood, seeing his memories, knowing without doubt whether he was innocent or guilty.
But Solis stepped forward, alarm on his face. "Kieran, no. His mind is compromised. What if his blood is tainted? Poisoned? What if drinking it transfers whatever's controlling him to you?"
The words hit like cold water. He was right. If someone had been manipulating Elias’ mind, his blood could be toxic. Magically poisoned. Or worse—it could be the vector for the control itself.
Drinking it could kill me. Or turn me into another puppet.
"Fuck." I dropped my hand, looking at Elias. "He's right. I can't risk it."
Merrit's fear spiked. She hadn't thought of that possibility either, and now the realization terrified her.
"Then what do we do?" Elias asked quietly.
"We confine you." The words tasted like betrayal even as I spoke them. "Not in the dungeons. Comfortable quarters, under guard. Protective custody—for your safety and ours."
"I understand." He slumped in the chair, looking smaller somehow. "I'd do the same in your position."
"We'll find who's controlling you," I promised. "And when we do, I'll clear your name."
"If I'm truly innocent," he said softly, tears of shame welling in his eyes. “What if I’m not?”
"You are." Merrit's hands moved with absolute certainty, her conviction filtering through me. "I can feel it."
He looked at her with something like gratitude. "Thank you, my lady."
The guards took him away—gently, respectfully, to a secure room in the residential wing. Somewhere comfortable but contained.
When he was gone, I sagged against my desk, exhaustion crashing over me. "This is a fucking nightmare."
"It's a setup," Solis said. "Someone's playing us. Framing Elias, staging attacks, staying three steps ahead."
"But who?" I looked at the evidence still spread across my desk. "Who has the access, the knowledge, the skill to do all this?"
Solis straightened, glancing toward the door. "I should check on Elias. Make sure he's settled in his quarters, and the guards understand he's not to be treated as a criminal."
"Good idea. And Solis?" I waited until he met my gaze. "No one hears about what Merrit saw in that vampire's mind. Not even the other guards."
He nodded, understanding in his expression. "The lady has a gift for impressions. That's all anyone needs to know."
When he left, silence settled over the room. Merrit moved to the window, staring out at the courtyard where the Exhibition had been, her thoughts carefully shielded even from me.
A knock at the door made us both turn.
"Enter."
Tobias stepped into the room, his expression grave with concern. "Your Highness. What happened at the Exhibition was..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "I've never seen such a breach of protocol. A real blade in a demonstration? Unthinkable."
His gaze swept the evidence on my desk, lingering on the forged sigil. "And now I hear Elias has been confined. Surely there must be some mistake?"
Every instinct in me screamed that something was wrong. The timing of his arrival, the convenient observations, the way his eyes kept finding Merrit—it all seemed calculated.
But Tobias had been my father's advisor for centuries. Had served the Crown longer than I'd been alive. That kind of loyalty wasn't easily faked.
Was it?
"We're investigating," I said carefully.
"Of course." He clasped his hands behind his back, the picture of a concerned advisor.
"I hate to add to your burdens, but I thought you should know—I've seen Elias in strange places recently.
Speaking with people I didn't recognize.
At odd hours. I thought nothing of it at the time, but now.
.." He let the sentence hang, heavy with implication.
Merrit's attention sharpened with suspicion.
"What kind of people?" I asked, pressing him.
"Foreign. Well-dressed but not nobility. The kind who slip in and out without being noticed." Tobias’ expression was troubled. "And once, I could have sworn I saw him near the armory where the Exhibition weapons were stored. But when I approached, he was gone."
The detail seemed too perfect. Too convenient.
But it also fit with everything else we'd found.
"I should have said something sooner," Tobias continued. "I just didn't want to believe—"
"It's not your fault," I said, though the words felt hollow. "You couldn't have known."
"Still." He moved closer, studying the evidence. "If there's anything I can do to help with the investigation, I'm at your service. I've served this Crown for six centuries. I won't let some traitor tear down what we've built."
"I'll keep that in mind."
He bowed and left, and the moment the door closed, Merrit's hands moved in quick, agitated signs.
"I don't trust him."
"I don't, either," I admitted, surprising myself with the honesty. "Something about this feels wrong."
"His face when he looked at the evidence," she signed. "He wasn't surprised. And all those convenient observations about Elias?"
"Too perfect," I agreed. "But that doesn't mean—"
"Someone controlled Elias." She cut me off, her hands moving faster. "Someone old enough and skilled enough to fracture minds and hide their tracks. Someone with access to everything."
The implication hung between us.
Tobias had both. Age and access.
"It's not proof," I said, even as my mind turned over the possibility. "Suspicion isn't evidence."
"Then we get evidence." Her hands stilled. "We watch him. We find proof."
Through the bond, I caught the flicker of her thought—searching his chambers herself, finding concrete evidence—and shut it down immediately.
"We watch him," I agreed. "Nadia can shadow him. But you—" She stiffened, knowing what I was about to say. "You stay away from him.”
Merrit nodded, but her dissatisfaction bled through our connection. She wanted more. Needed proof. And despite my warning, the thought kept surfacing, persistent as a tide.
"Don't even think about it," I said aloud.
She looked at me, feigning innocence.
"I felt that. You're not searching anyone's chambers. Especially not alone." I pulled her closer, needing the physical contact. "Someone tried to kill you today. Whether through Elias or someone else, they got close. Too close. And I'm not giving them another chance."
Her fear echoed mine. "The necklace..."