Chapter Thirty - The Crown’s Case #3
Dorian glared back at him and answered only by lifting his chained wrists.
She could see the effort it took him to do so, the rubies flashing as they worked to keep his power blocked.
She knew this must be killing him. More than the pain, the revelation of this power he had kept secret for so long.
It was only a matter of time before someone had found it.
At least now they could reveal only as much as they wished.
They needed them to believe that Dorian was the only one that could produce them.
If nothing else, they would at least keep him alive… she hoped.
Bastian was up out of his seat again before the Templar could step forward to remove them, “Absolutely not, we do not know what this traitor might do if given access to his power,” he turned to the Queen, “your majesty, for your own safety, I beg of you.”
The Queen regarded both the prince’s before turning her attention back to Sir Emrys, “do you have any other means of proving that Prince Dorian produced these gemstones.”
Corvin stepped forward and handed papers to one of the clerks, “Prince Dorian kept detailed logs of each gems creation, function and permanency.”
Rosamund had found them in his study; there was not a gemstone created or used in The Veil that he did not have a personal hand or observance of. The queen reviewed the documents as Bastian scoffed, “and these too could be forgeries, do you have anything concrete?”
“Release my shackles brother and I’ll show you,” said Dorian through gritted teeth.
They had been the first words he had spoken since he had arrived in the hall. From the way he swayed she was certain that they had taken every ounce of his strength to say.
“The accused is not permitted to address this court,” said Bastian, his voice dripping with hatred, “he lost that right when he chose to betray his kingdom. His family.”
“That remains to be seen,” said the Queen firmly, “sit down Prince Bastian. You are a judge of this court, not the Crown Clerk. Do not presume to speak on his behalf, or the crowns.”
Bastian looked like he wanted to fly across and strike at her, reluctantly he sat back in his chair.
The Queen continued to peruse the diaries that had been handed to her as the Crown Clerk spoke, “as detailed as these are Sir Corvin, we agree with Prince Bastian that their production and that of the schematics is convenient. There is also the testimony of the many witnesses, including Lord Darnwell’s daughter, who have seen Prince Dorian in discussion with the traitors. ”
“Even if we exclude the obvious signs of torture upon these witnesses,” said Sir Corvin, “there is coercion, bribery, which, given time I am certain we could prove.”
“Do you have proof of these allegations,” said the Crown Clerk quickly as Bastian glared at him.
“We do, what’s more, we can prove that the charges that have been brought by Prince Bastian are part of a wider plan to remove his brother and claim his lands and power for his own.”
“I will not allow these lies to be spoken about my person,” shouted Prince Bastian as the people in the gallery whispered and murmured amongst themselves.
“We will not tell you again Prince Bastian, sit down or we will have you removed from this court,” said the Queen, her low voice cutting through the hubbub of the crowd.
Rosamund gripped the edge of the bench, certain that her nails were leaving gouges in the hard stone and leaned forward. This was it; this was everything they had hung their case on. If this did not work, they were in trouble.
And so are Wulf and the others…
She had not heard from him. She had to trust that all was well, he would have sent word otherwise. This would have to succeed or should would lose more than Dorian this day.
Bastian sank back into the stone throne and clutched the armrests.
“Bring forth the witness,” said Sir Corvin.
A shaking young woman was brought forward by one of the Templars, her eyes darting around the room, papers clutched in her hands.
The rustling echoed around the chamber as she stood nervously before the court.
She looked different from night that Rosamund had seen her; her cheeks sunken, her skin scarred, and her right eye completely missing.
She wore a brown dress retrieved from Rosamund’s cupboard; the girl had been in rags when Wulf had brought her to Blackthorn Hall.
She had not truly expected him to find her, but he had.
Rosamund had not known when she sent him out what an asset to them the girl would be.
She had thought only of saving her. What they had found was so much more.
Rosamund remembered remarking how much she had looked like Elswyth.
The same long brown hair, the same glowing green eyes.
Perhaps a little thinner, a little bustier, but she had the same oval face, the same graceful height.
As Bastian looked at her now is that what he saw?
Did he remember her? There was no recognition in his disgusted expression.
“My dear,” said Corvin kindly, “would you kindly tell us your name?”
“Serena,” she said quietly, “I worked at the Crimson Theatre as a dancer.”
“A brothel?” scoffed the Crown Clerk, “your majesty, are we to hear the testimony of a whore?”
Serena flinched, but Rosamund was watching Bastian. She saw the realisation creep up on him as he regarded her, the anger that began to set in. His hands clutched the stone armrests.
Sir Corvin stepped forward, “the young woman’s evidence is crucial to our case, your majesty. She should be heard the same as any other Lord’s testimony.”
The Queen pursed her lips and held up a hand before the Crown Clerk could interrupt, “she is an…unconventional witness Sir Corvin, we ask that you get to the point quickly.”
Sir Corvin bowed in thanks to the queen before turning back to Serena, “are you familiar with his royal highness Prince Bastian?”
The girl glanced to the man before she nodded, the rustling of the papers in her hands grew louder.
“How is it that you came to know the Prince?”
“He, he would visit us often. Not just myself but the other girls as well.”
“This is slander,” hissed Bastian, looking to his brothers now.
“Actually, I think this is probably one of the truest things I’ve heard today,” said Aurelian, “we are all aware of your appetite brother.”
“Enough,” cut in the Queen, and turned to the young woman, “continue.”
“Always the same type of girl, the ones that looked like me,” she said and pulled at her loose brown hair, “like Princess Elswyth. He used to tell us he loved us, tell us that he would put us in our own palace, make us ladies. But all he wanted was a child. An heir. He used to pour his money into the brothels in pursuit of it, until there was nothing left. Then he took us anyway.”
With every word her voice grew stronger, flowing more easily the more she spoke. Rosamund saw the look of disgust on the faces of the other prince’s, the redness of Bastian’s as the girl continued to speak.
“I lasted longer than the others. He would write to me,” she held up the letters and a clerk stepped forward to take them, “letters filled with false promises of gold, of titles, if I were to give him a son. That was his only concern. And…and he would tell me, how he would one day be king, and that I would be his queen.”
As the letters were passed to the Queen and the other princes Bastian raged silently, the cracks appearing in the stone throne where he gripped it.
“He, he would tell me how he would ruin his brothers and steal their lands from under them. He, he told me he already had his eye on Prince Dorian, how he longed for the riches of The Veil. He said he was certain that his brother was hiding great wealth behind his walls and that it would soon be his.”
The court erupted as Bastian flew out of his seat towards the young woman.
His hand outstretched, though nothing happened.
The power of the Templars dampening his and all power within the room.
Bastian, however, continued towards her.
Aurelian and Gawain surged forward to stop him, grabbing his arms and dragging him back to his seat as the people of the gallery shouted and argued with each other.
“LIES!” shouted Bastian as he pulled against his brothers arms, “this woman is a liar! Are we really to take the word of a harlot over a Prince?!”
“He tried to kill me!” she shouted above the voices, holding her ground as Emrys came to stand beside her, “but I ran! I hid on the street, and I kept the letters he sent! He sent men to kill me, just as he sent men after his own brother! I have the proof!”
She was barely heard, Bastian shouting and screaming, desperate to get to her.
This was not going to plan. They could not hear her, would not hear her.
She could see it on the faces of the men that surrounded her.
They were disgusted by their brother, but they did not believe her completely.
They looked at her with pity, with revulsion, none of them looked at her with belief.
Rosamund was furious as she rose to her feet, adding her voice to the chorus of shouts and arguments, though her words were lost amongst the rest. The Queen was calling for order as Emrys gently led Serena to the side.
Rosamund felt something tugging at her sleeve.
She turned to Marianne, expecting her to chastise her for shouting, and instead found the young Princess adding her own voice to the chaos.
There was a rage in her that she had never seen in the woman before.
The tug came again, this time from the other side and she turned around and saw… nothing.
“Lady!” hissed an invisible voice.
With a pop Gnash suddenly appeared, waving a note in his hand, a wide grin on his face. Rosamund took the note from him and read it. A rush of adrenaline coursed through her, and she knelt down in front of the goblin.
“How long?”
“Almost here lady,” said the goblin in hushed excited tones.
Almost.