Chapter 30 What Remains #2
Tears burned. I didn't let them fall. “Because it's complicated. Because he's my bodyguard. Because people will talk—”
“Let them talk.” My father stood. Crossed to us.
Put a hand on each of our shoulders. “I have buried one love.
I watched her die because I couldn't protect her. Because I was too weak or too slow or too blind to see the danger coming.” He looked at Viktor.
“You kept my son alive. You loved him enough to be what he needed. You gave him a reason to fight. To come home.”
He turned to me. Tears streaming now. Not trying to hide them.
“You are my son. My heir. The only family I have left.
I don't care who you love as long as they love you back.
As long as they're good to you. As long as they make you happy.” He smiled through the tears.
“And Viktor makes you happy. I've seen it.
Even through all the fear and danger. You're happy with him.”
“I am,” I whispered.
“Then that's all that matters.” He pulled us both into an embrace. Awkward. Tearful. Real. “I love you both. And I approve. For whatever that's worth.”
We stayed like that. The three of us. Crying and laughing and holding onto each other like we could keep the world from taking anything else if we just held on tight enough.
“Thank you,” Viktor said finally. Voice rough. “For trusting me with him.”
“Thank you for proving yourself worthy of that trust.” My father pulled back. Wiped his eyes. “Now. Let's go see what you want to do with the people who tried to take you from us.”
The cells were deep. Cold. The kind of place where light struggled to reach and hope died in corners.
Detective Akintola was waiting at the entrance, coat damp from the rain outside. He nodded when he saw us. Professional. But something warmer flickered in his eyes when they landed on me.
“Your Highness.” He stepped forward. “Mr. Volkov.”
“Detective.” I kept my voice steady. Formal enough for the setting.
Akintola's gaze shifted to me. Studied the bandages visible at my collar, the way I was holding myself too carefully. “How are you, Sebastian?”
The use of my name without title felt deliberate. Personal. Like he was asking the person, not the prince.
“Alive,” I said. “Better than I should be.”
“That's something.” He glanced at Viktor. “Your bodyguard has a habit of keeping you that way.”
Viktor said nothing. Just stood at my shoulder like a wall.
Akintola pulled out a small notebook. “Before you go in, I need a brief debrief. What happened at Hollowvale is going into official records. The Crown's statement will matter.”
I swallowed. “The Chancellor orchestrated attacks on the royal family over an extended period. He was apprehended during an attempted escape.”
“And the other matter?” Akintola's pen hovered over paper. “The aide. élodie Mercier.”
The name hit like a fist. “She was complicit. She helped him. Covered his movements. Provided intelligence.”
“For how long?”
“Years.” The word came out bitter. “Maybe her whole time in the palace.”
Akintola wrote carefully. Then looked up. “I'm sorry. I know she was close to you.”
“She was.” Past tense. It hurt more than the physical wounds. “Not anymore.”
“Do you need more time before—”
“No.” I straightened. Felt Viktor shift closer. Supportive without hovering. “I need to see them. Need to understand.”
Akintola studied me for a moment. Then nodded. “I'll be here. If you need anything.”
He stepped aside. Let us pass.
Marcel sat in his. Chained despite the guards. Bandaged but alive. He looked up when we entered. Smiled like we were old friends meeting for tea.
“Your Highness. Come to gloat?”
“No.” I stopped outside the bars. Viktor at my shoulder. My father behind us both. “Come to listen.”
“To what? My manifesto? My justification?” He laughed. “I won't give you that satisfaction.”
“Then tell me why.” I gripped the bars. “Why her? Why my mother? Why everything?”
“Because someone had to.” He leaned forward. Chains rattling. “Your father was weak. Your mother made him weaker. The kingdom was dying of kindness. Someone had to be willing to make the hard choices.”
“Like murder.”
“Like survival.” His eyes blazed. “Do you know how many threats I've stopped? How many plots I've shut down? How many times I've saved this crown while you played vigilante and your father played grief-stricken widower?”
“I won’t ever forgive for what you did to her.”
“I removed an obstacle.” No remorse. No shame. “And I'd do it again. Because she was making this kingdom soft. Vulnerable. Weak.” He paused. “Just like you're doing now with your pet soldier.”
Viktor's hand on my shoulder stopped me from reaching through the bars.
“What happens to me?” Marcel asked. “Death? Life imprisonment? Exile?”
“You don't get to be a martyr.” I said it clearly. “You don't get to die for your cause and let history debate if you were right. You get to rot. In here. Forgotten. While the kingdom you tried to save survives without you.”
“Life imprisonment then.” He smiled. “I can live with that.”
“Good.” I turned to the guards. “No visitors. No letters. No communication with the outside world. He dies here. Alone. With nothing but his choices for company.”
I walked away. Didn't look back. Didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his words had cost me.
élodie's cell was at the end of the corridor.
She sat on the cot. Knees pulled up. Arms wrapped around them. Staring at nothing.
She looked up when we approached. Something crossed her face. Pain. Grief. Relief.
“Sebastian,” she whispered.
“élodie.” I stopped at the bars. Couldn't make myself get closer.
“I didn't think you'd come.”
“I needed to see you. Needed to understand why.”
“Why?” She laughed. Hollow. “I told you why. Power. Control. Everything I was never allowed to have.”
“Was it worth it?”
The question hung between us. Heavy. Final.
“No.” She said it quietly. “I thought it would be. I thought ruling from the shadows would be enough. That shaping the kingdom would fill the hole.” She looked at her hands. “But all I feel is empty.”
“Good.” I didn't mean for it to come out harsh. But it did. “You should feel empty. You should feel everything you took from me. From us.”
“I know.” Tears streaked her face. “I loved you, Sebastian. I really did. That part wasn't a lie.”
“It doesn't matter.” And it didn't. The love was real. The betrayal was realer. “Love without loyalty is just another weapon.”
“What happens to me?” She looked up. Eyes red. Broken. “Death?”
I thought about it. Imagined her execution. Her blood paying for my mother's. For eighteen years of lies.
It would be justice.
It would be what she deserved.
But it would also be what she wanted. An end. Peace. Freedom from the weight of what she'd done.
“No,” I said. “You get to live. You get to sit in this cell and remember everything you did. Everyone you betrayed. Every choice that led you here.” I paused. “You get to survive long enough to understand what you destroyed.”
Her face crumpled. “Sebastian, please—”
“No mercy.” I cut her off. “You wanted power. You wanted control. This is what you get instead. A cell. Guards who won't speak to you. Decades to reflect on whether it was worth it.”
“I'm sorry.” She sobbed it. “I'm so sorry. Please. Please just kill me. Don't make me—”
“You don't get to choose.” I turned away. “You get to live with what you've done. That's your punishment. That's your justice.”
I walked away. Viktor beside me. My father behind us.
Her sobs followed us down the corridor. Echoing off stone. Growing fainter.
I didn't look back.
We emerged into sunlight. Real sunlight. Warm and bright and alive.
“Are you all right?” Viktor asked.
“No.” I leaned against him. Let him take my weight. “But I will be.”
“That was mercy.” My father's voice. “Letting them live.”
“That was cruelty.” I corrected. “Death is mercy. Living with what you've done is punishment.”
“Wise.” He smiled.
We walked back through the palace. Through corridors I'd run as a child. Past portraits of ancestors who'd made their own impossible choices. Toward chambers that felt like home instead of a cage.
Staff nodded as we passed. Smiled. Whispered. But not with judgment. With approval. With relief that we'd survived.
At my door, my father stopped.
“I'll leave you two,” he said. “You need rest. Both of you.”
“Thank you.” I hugged him. “For everything. For understanding. For loving me anyway.”
“Always.” He pulled back. Looked at Viktor. “Take care of him.”
“With my life.” Viktor's voice was steady. “Always.”
My father nodded. Walked away. Left us standing in the corridor.
Viktor opened my door. We stepped inside. Apollo bounded over immediately. Tail wagging. Nosing at both of us like he'd been worried.
“Hey, boy.” I knelt carefully. Scratched his ears. “I'm okay. We're both okay.”
He licked my face. Viktor's too. Made us both laugh despite everything.
“Come on.” Viktor helped me up. Guided me to the bed. “Rest. Real rest this time.”
“Will you stay?”
“Where else would I go?”
We lay down. Carefully. Both of us broken in different ways but whole enough together.
Viktor's arm came around me. Gentle. Secure.
“It's over,” I whispered.
“Da. It is over.”
“Marcel's in a cell. élodie's in a cell. My father knows about us. The palace knows about us. We're not hiding anymore.”
“Is that okay?” He asked it carefully. “Are you okay with everyone knowing?”
“Yeah.” I pressed closer. “I'm tired of hiding. Tired of pretending. I just want to be with you. Openly. Honestly. No more secrets.”
“No more secrets,” he agreed.
We lay there in comfortable silence. Apollo curled up at the foot of the bed. Sunlight streaming through the windows. The palace humming with life around us.
“What happens next?” I asked eventually.
“You heal. We rebuild. We figure out how to live in a world where Marcel and élodie don't exist anymore.” He paused. “And we stop running from what we are.”
“What are we?”
“Yours and mine.” Simple. Final. “Together. Whatever that looks like.”
“I like that.” I turned my head. Found his eyes. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” He kissed me. Soft. Careful. Real. “Now sleep. When you wake up, we start figuring out what comes next.”
“What if what comes next is hard?”
“Then we handle it.” His hand found mine. “Together.”
I closed my eyes. Let exhaustion pull me under. Let the warmth and safety and Viktor wash over me like absolution.
We'd survived.
We'd won.
And whatever came next, we'd face it together.
That was enough.
That was everything.