Chapter 48 Elaina
ELAINA
Now I see why I was “invited” to the Coronation and dressed in the revealing red dress. Dorian must have been planning this all along—planning to call me out and accuse me before the entire Court.
The guards drag me to the middle of the Great Hall like a criminal, though I’ve done nothing wrong. My wrists are bound with iron cuffs, and the trailing chains rattle against the marble flagstones dramatically.
Rows of Nobles crowd around me on either side, whispering like vultures around a carcass, preparing to hear my trial.
At the far end, the Queen sits beside Dorian on the dais.
Her posture is ramrod straight, her expression grim.
Beside her, Dorian lounges in his new throne, one leg crossed over the other, the crown tilted rakishly on his pale hair.
He looks far too happy and pleased with himself for a man who has just lost his father.
The guards shove me closer to the dais and force me to my knees. My knees hit hard stone. The sound echoes through the chamber.
“Let the trial of Princess Elaina begin,” Dorian announces, his voice slick as oil. “Royal Prosecutor, state your case.”
He gestures to a man in black robes standing to his right. The Royal Prosecutor steps forward—a tall, thin figure with a face like a ferret and thin, claw-like hands which he uses to gesture dramatically.
“Your Majesty,” the Prosecutor says, bowing low. “This woman stands accused of regicide and treason. She has conspired with the disgraced Prince Xaren to poison His late Majesty the King and usurp the throne.”
A murmur of shock ripples through the Court.
Usurp the throne? That’s madness.
“I didn’t—” I start to protest, but the Prosecutor lifts a bony hand.
“You will speak when spoken to, girl,” he snaps, and the guards’ hands tighten painfully on my shoulders.
Dorian’s lips curve in that cold smile again.
“Please, let the accused have her say. I wouldn’t want anyone to think I’m unfair.”
The Prosecutor nods solemnly and turns to me.
“Very well, Princess. Tell us then—how did you come to be in the King’s private chambers on the night of his death?”
“I didn’t mean to go to his rooms at all,” I say quickly. “That was never my intention.”
“You expect us to believe that?” he interrupts smoothly. “When you were found skulking through secret corridors—corridors that lead directly to the royal apartments?”
“I wasn’t skulking!” I protest. “I was just—”
“She was just now caught attempting to flee justice!” he declares, raising his voice for the audience. “And she would have succeeded, had not one of our loyal Nobles spotted her cowardly escape attempt during His Majesty’s coronation. Why would she flee if she wasn’t guilty?”
The crowd hisses their disapproval.
Cowardly escape? My face burns. They’re twisting the situation to suit their own ends! I only ever wanted to find the key to Xaren’s collar… to free him before it’s too late!
I look toward the Queen, but she won’t meet my eyes. Her gaze is fixed somewhere above my head, as though she can’t bear to see me.
“Tell me, Princess,” the Prosecutor continues, pacing in front of me like a vulture circling prey. “You claim innocence, yet the poison bottle was found in your possession.”
“That’s not true!” I exclaim. “It was in Dorian’s hand because he was—”
“In His Majesty’s hand, you say?” he cuts me off again. “Please—do you really expect us to believe that?”
“It’s the truth!” I say stubbornly. “I wasn’t trying to get into the King’s room—I was trying to get to the Queen’s room!”
“Why?” he demands. “So you could poison Her Majesty?”
“No!” I try to keep my voice level though I feel like shouting in frustration. “I was looking for the key to the restraining collar she put on Prince Xaren. I believe it’s killing his Drake—which would leave the entire Kingdom unprotected!” I add.
The Nobles murmur nervously, looking at each other in obvious uncertainty.
I wonder if any of them know that Xaren’s Drake is actually what keeps the Citadel free of invaders?
Or do they just live their silly, vacuous lives in a haze of entitled ignorance with no notion of who is paying for their freedom?
But the Prosecutor refuses to take my bait.
“So you admit you were conspiring with the disgraced Prince Xaren to steal the throne!” he thunders triumphantly.
“No!” I exclaim. “I never—”
“And when you couldn’t poison the Queen to steal the key, you decided to kill His Majesty, the old King instead and steal the throne more directly!
” he goes on. “Then you were going to take the secret passageway back to the Queen’s room, get the key, release the Dark Prince, and take the throne together! ”
“No!” I cry again. “No, that’s not true at all! I just want Xaren to live—I want his Drake to live! Both of them are dying down there in the dungeon and I—”
“Your Majesty, Nobles of the Court,” the Royal Prosecutor says, bowing to Dorian and nodding to the audience.
“I think we have established our murderess’ motive.
She sought to place the disgraced Prince Xaren—who not long ago threatened our very lives with his Drake—on the throne so they could rule the Kingdom together! ”
The nobles murmur together and glare at me—clearly they believe everything the snake of a Prosecutor is selling them.
I can feel my pulse pounding in my ears and my mouth is dry as dust.
They won’t listen. None of them will listen. They just believe whatever he tells them—even if it’s all lies! Why are they all so blind—so stupid?
The Prosecutor’s questions come faster now, his words twisting like knives.
“Did Prince Xaren instruct you to free him? Did he give you the poison in the first place? Did he promise to make you Queen after his mother and father were both dead? Did he tell you to kill King Dorian too?”
“No!” My voice cracks. “I love Xaren, but I would never—”
“Ah, so you do admit to loving him,” the man purrs, his narrow eyes glinting. “You admit to conspiring with him in secret meetings, in the dungeons no less!”
“I was sent there by the Queen herself!” I cry. “She—”
“Enough!” Dorian’s voice booms across the hall. “We all know my mother has a soft heart where this girl is concerned, but we cannot allow her bleeding compassion to cloud Royal Justice.”
The Queen looks angrily at him, clearly not approving of this statement but the Court is Dorian’s now—she doesn’t dare to speak or contradict him.
He leans forward on the throne, resting his chin on his hand, studying me like a predator toying with its prey.
“You see, Princess Elaina, you make this so difficult. I wanted to be merciful. But mercy must be earned.”
“Mercy?” I choke out, losing my composure at last. “How dare you speak to me of mercy? You murdered your own father!”
A shocked gasp sweeps the room. The Queen’s head jerks up. Dorian’s smile falters for the first time.
“What did you say?” His voice is deadly soft.
I swallow hard.
You can’t back down now. Tell them. Tell them all.
“I saw you,” I say, my voice trembling but growing stronger with each word. “I saw you leaning over the King’s bed. You were pouring the poison into his mouth—down his throat!”
The room explodes. Nobles leap to their feet. The Prosecutor shouts for silence.
Dorian stands slowly, his face a mask of fury.
“You dare,” he growls. “You dare to speak such filth in front of my Court?”
“It’s the truth!” I shout back. I have nothing left to lose now. “You killed him! You murdered your own father!”
“Liar!” He descends the dais in two strides and slaps me hard across the face. The sound echoes like a whip crack. The guards don’t move—no one does.
My cheek burns and I taste blood on my tongue but I won’t bow my head or cower. I won’t give him that satisfaction. I glare at him instead. He can lie all he wants but we both know he killed the old King.
Dorian turns to the Court, raising his voice.
“Do you hear her? Even now she lies! She lies to save her own neck!”
He points at me, his face twisted with rage.
“This woman will pay for her blasphemy. She will pay for the murder of our beloved King…for conspiring with my treacherous brother. And she will pay for daring to slander your new King before all of you!”
The Nobles cheer in agreement. Dorian waits until they quiet. He’s clearly playing the room—pausing for dramatic effect. He looks around at the crowd, his voice rising to a roar.
“You will burn for this, Princess! You will be stripped of your Royal title and burned alive before all the Court—your screams will be the music of justice!”
The Nobles roar their approval—the sound is deafening.
I feel my mouth go dry. Burned at the stake? Oh Goddess of Mercy, no—no, please! I saw a witch burned once, when I was a child. I remember how her skin crisped and her hair went up in a torch as she screamed and screamed and screamed. I had nightmares about it for years afterwards.
No. No, please. Not fire, I think, my stomach clenching like a slick fist. Anything but that. Anything!
I tremble, staring up at Dorian through the haze of panic and fear and he smirks back at me. But even as terror grips me, something else stirs inside—a spark of defiance. I won’t go to my fate easily—I’ll have one last word.
“You won’t win, Dorian,” I say, glaring up at him. “Xaren will rise again. His Drake will rise. And when he does, your fire will be nothing compared to his!”
His hateful, handsome face twists—the smirk turning into a scowl.
“Take the murderess away!” he commands, his jaw clenching. “I can’t stand the sight of her! Remove her from my Royal presence at once!”
The guards haul me to my feet. My cheek throbs where he struck me, but I keep my chin lifted as they drag me from the hall. Behind me, the Nobles are still shouting, drunk on bloodlust and spectacle.
The Queen’s voice cuts faintly through the noise—low, sharp, reprimanding—but Dorian doesn’t listen. He’s too busy basking in his own cruelty.
You think this is over, I think, as they drag me through the corridor toward whatever cell they’ve chosen for me next. But it isn’t. Not yet. I saw what you did, and I’ll make you pay for it.
Even if it kills me.