Chapter 57 #2
Her voice hardened. “What we know is this: while you nursed that . . . belief, you sold purple limyerite to foreign parties and lined your pockets with coins meant for this kingdom’s people.
When discovered, you deliberately framed Lord Teodor Wulfbane to take the fall.
You let his family and the entire nation believe he was a traitor. ”
Bertrand flinched. “I did what I had to. That Alpha had too much power—”
“Did it feel powerful,” Princess Adelise cut in, her voice ringing through the hall, “to help a foreign trader abduct Omegas and experiment on them? Cage them like beasts? Torture them? Kill them?”
Alexander had no sympathy for the bastard, but Bertrand did look horrified.
“No!” the man shouted, his composure fracturing.
“It wasn’t like that. I—” His mouth twisted, sweat beading at his temples.
“Yes, I sold the limyerite. I let a man named Tedric Deymar into the mine, agreed to his request for a cave extension at his own expense. But I didn’t know what he was planning, I swear!
I don’t even know who he really is. Only that he wore a pin—shaped like a crown, split down the middle like cracked gold.
He said it stood for change. For balance.
For Betas finally taking what’s long been denied us. ”
He looked up, perhaps realizing too late what he’d just unleashed.
“He never gave a name,” he added in a whisper. “Only that there were others. That something larger was coming.”
“A moment,” JingYi’s voice cut through, calm and clear. “You denied all of it, just moments ago. Now you admit to the theft, the conspiracy, and the stranger in the mine. Which is it, Lord Fortier? Were you lying then, or are you lying now?”
Bertrand stared at her, his mouth opening and closing, trapped by his own words. The court stirred, the contradiction now laid bare, ripples of unease passing through the nobles—eyes darting, fans flapping. One of the royal justiciars leaned toward a steward. The guards braced.
Even the Betas in the room did not stand with him.
“Traitor,” someone muttered.
An older voice called from the back. “If they rise—will you lead them?”
Alexander looked at him, jaw set. “It’s over now, Bertrand.”
The man laughed—a low, bitter sound. “You still believe the world bends to Alphas and some divine order. It should belong to the ones who outnumber you. The ones who build, balance, bleed for kingdoms they’ll never rule.”
Alexander’s eyes narrowed. He felt nothing for the man—not even hatred, not anymore. “One day, perhaps. But it’ll never be you.”
The king rose, his face a mask of cold fury. “Bertrand Fortier. You have confessed before this assembly to embezzlement, treason, and conspiracy with a foreign agent. You have justified the wrongful execution of a loyal lord with the pathetic fantasy of a slighted heart.”
He paused, letting the crimes resound through the hall.
“You are hereby stripped of all titles and holdings. You will be interrogated and tortured to death. If you want it to be swift, I suggest you speak freely. Your family will be exiled. They will never be welcomed at court again.”
The guards dragged Bertrand toward the rear doors as he thrashed in their grip.
“You fools!” he snarled. “You think this ends with me? You think you’ve stopped it? The world is changing—you’ll see! You’ll all see!”
His voice echoed off the chamber walls, high and ragged, until the doors slammed shut behind him.
Alexander stood unmoving in the aftermath—the buzz of scandalized nobles closing in. Twenty years. Twenty years of bowed heads and bitten tongues and a father’s name dragged through mud. And now, a single verdict—spoken in less time than it took to draw breath—was supposed to make it right.
It didn’t. Nothing could give back what Bertrand had taken. But the ground beneath his feet, for the first time since he was a boy, felt solid.
The king stepped down and clapped his shoulder.
“Let it be known,” came his voice, loud enough for the whole hall to hear, “that House Wulfbane, and the late Lord Teodor Wulfbane, are hereby cleared of all wrongdoings in the matter of the limyerite mines.”
Alexander could only stare. He’d imagined this moment a hundred times before. He just hadn’t expected it to feel so unmoored, like a rope suddenly slackened after being pulled too tight for too long.
“Lord Wulfbane,” the king continued, turning to him fully. “Your father was deceived and wrongfully executed, yet you remained loyal to crown and kingdom. For that, you have my gratitude.”
Alexander bowed, barely aware of his own movement.
“The stewardship of the limyerite mines will be restored to your House,” the king said, “with all titles, privileges, and revenues returned.”
Restored.
Alexander lifted his head. “I will perform my duties with strength and honour, Your Majesty.”
The words left his mouth clean and formal, but they didn’t feel like his, as though someone else took control of his tongue.
“When you and I both have a moment,” the king continued, lower now, “we will discuss what the crown can do to make up for the years of unfair treatments your House has suffered.”
The applause started small, like a flint-strike, then roared into something thunderous.
Nobles surrounded him. Clapped his back.
Spoke warm words to his face. Alphas he used to measure himself against now hailed him like brothers-in-arms. Noblewomen gathered near, soft-lipped and glittering, glancing up at him as though they’d only seen him for the first time.
This. This was the kind of approval he’d spent years chasing. The kind he’d have bled for. Before.
Now, it all fell flat. Like a feast laid out for a man with no appetite.
His gaze swept the crowd.
Where are you . . .?
Then, he saw her. A flash of raven hair among the golden and auburn tones of the crowd. She stood near the edge, half-shadowed by a pillar, hands folded in front of her, a soft smile on her lips.
JingYi.
Their eyes met. She was his one fixed point in a world that wouldn’t stop shifting.
He stepped toward her through the press of bodies. Through the congratulatory nods and voices calling his name. He moved faster, carving a path, trying not to show how his pulse was racing.
One step, then another. He lost sight of her for a moment, then glimpsed her again between shoulders. He quickened his pace, but the crowd thickened. Words blurred. Someone gripped his arm—an old lord, offering a toast or blessing, he didn’t know, didn’t care.
Let me through.
When he finally broke past the last well-wisher, heart thudding—
She was gone.