Chapter Thirty - The Crown’s Case #4
Rosamund looked back to where the chaos was beginning to come back under control.
“Bastian, one more outburst and we will have you removed from the court,” said the Queen firmly, “do you understand?”
Bastian was still seething but nodded his head at the queen, his brothers let go of his arms and returned to their seats.
“Sir Corvin,” said the Queen, turning her attention to the Seneschal, "whilst we are not unsympathetic to what this young lady has endured, do you have any proof that what she says is true.”
“If you will regard the letters your majesty,” said Corvin pointing to the papers.
“Forgeries, your majesty,” said the Crown Clerk, now sounding like he was back on firm ground, “there is no proof that these were written by Prince Bastian. This is simply a harlot out for revenge. If Sir Corvin has no more evidence or witnesses to submit, then I suggest we move to judgement.”
The Queen looked to Sir Corvin, “whilst we are appalled by the conduct of Prince Bastian,” the Prince squirmed in his chair, but he was beginning to relax, she could see it, “as you say, we cannot know for certain that these letters were written by his hand. If you have nothing else Sir Corvin, then we must proceed.”
No, no not yet.
“Your Majesty, I would like to address the court.”
All eyes turned to Rosamund where she had risen to her feet in the Royal Box, her voice still echoing around the silent chamber.
This is most irregular,” said the Crown Clerk, “Lady Valehart has no right to speak here. She is not of the royal household, and she is not a witness.”
Even Corvin and Emrys looked at her as if she were insane. The other Prince’s looked at her with interest, though Bastian only glowered. Rosamund ignored them all, already heading down the steps towards the centre, her eyes fixed on the Queen. A Templar blocked her path.
“His fate is mine, our lives were entwined the day we were betrothed,” said Rosamund, loud enough so the room could hear, “I was told that meant we were as good as married. Doesn’t that make me a part of this family? Will you not give me the right to plead for the life of my betrothed?”
“This I leave to our Prince’s,” the Queen turned to them, “will you hear her?”
“Aye,” said Aurelian first.
“Nay,” said Cedric in his usual disinterested fashion.
“Aye,” said Osric quietly, another glance to Marianne before he did so.
“Nay,” said Luceran coldly.
“Nay,” said Gawain with a disappointed expression.
Her heart sank. With only Bastian to declare his vote it was unlikely she would be permitted to speak. Panic coursed through her as she turned to his sneering bearded face.
“Why not. Beg for his life Lady Valehart. Beg like you would have begged for your father’s. Aye.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. But of course, he would not pass up the opportunity to see her on her knees before him. The Queen turned to where the High Luminary and the Grand Seer sat.
“A draw, what does the Conscience of the court say?”
In a sweeping motion the Grand Seer rose to her feet. Rosamund felt a chill run down her spine as she looked at the veiled woman, “in the eyes of the Goddess they are one. She would hear her voice.”
That voice…
There was something familiar about it. Though muffled by the veils, she was certain that she had heard that voice before, though struggled to place it.
The Queen nodded her assent and Rosamund tried not to look relieved as she pushed past the Templar into the centre of the court.
As she passed Corvin she palmed him the note that Gnash had given her.
As she took her place in front of the Prince’s she saw his expression of relief, passing the note to Emrys who immediately hurried towards the doors.
Rosamund turned to face the court. These people that had terrified her when she had first arrived; she stared down each of them.
Even as her heart raced against her chest, she would not let them see her fear.
She would not let them break her. If Dorian could withstand this humiliation, this pain, then so she could she.
She would not leave him to face it alone.
She only hoped he would hear the truth behind her words.
“I know what a traitor is. My father was one. My brother was one. I grew up in a house filled with traitors and I live with that shame every day,” she gestured to Dorian, “This man is many things, but he is not a traitor. Trust me. You have every right to despise him. He is cruel and unfeeling. The Prince of Death. And yet…it is not Prince Dorian that has threatened my life or my place in this family, but this man,” she pointed to Bastian who barked a laugh, “This man has thrown me down the stairs of his home, has attempted to drown me, and told me that once my betrothed is dead that he will claim me as his own.”
She met his eye a growing smile on her own face as she saw Gnash nod to her from where he stood behind him. The smile on Bastian’s face was less certain now, less sure. The more she spoke the more worried he looked.
Suffer, prick.
“And still, this is nothing compared to the nightly torture he has subjected other women too. Including his own wife.”
The colour drained from Bastian’s face as the doors to the court opened.
“Your majesty, your highnesses, Lords and Ladies of the court, I call my final witness,” said Sir Corvin over the gasps and whispers, “Her Royal Highness, Princess Elswyth.”