Page 106 of The Rebel's Prize

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There was silence as they moved through the palace, heading for the prince's apartments. Lucien had sent for Colonel Perrine, the head of Aristides's Imperial Guard. He was waiting for them at the entrance to the East Wing, expression grim.

"My lord Truth Seeker," he said, bowing formally as Lucien reached him. "Do you need my assistance?"

"I need to see the crown prince," Lucien said. "And then His Imperial Majesty."

Sorrow softened the colonel's expression before he controlled it, so fast that Chloe wasn't sure she'd actually seen the flash of pain. Almost as though he'd been expecting this news. As the head of Aristides's guard, a man who had devoted his life to protecting the emperor and his family, he may have already drawn his own conclusions. But suspecting them was different to having them confirmed.

And knowing he'd missed the traitor in their midst all these years.

Perrine nodded at the guards barring the door and led them through the apartment where the prince was currently residing. Away from his wife and children, thankfully.

No.Best not to think about Nathalie. She knew too well what kind of pain the crown princess was about to experience.

But there was nothing she could do to spare the princess, and she needed to see this through before she could let any emotion into the process.

Istvan's confirmation that the prince was at the heart of the conspiracy had been bad enough. One man's ambition and impatience and so many lives lost or ruined. The echoes of Octarus's rage that had been pulsing through her since Istvan had confessed wasn't the only fury she was working to contain. Lucien's was banked but clear to her, as hers must be to him.

They couldn't afford to let that lead them to a mistake that might mean the prince avoided facing his crimes. Bringing him to account was the real prize now.

A bitter prize, perhaps, but that didn't change anything. Alain had played at rebellion, trying to gain power before it was rightfully his. He had lost.

Whatever his motivations, that much was clear. The game was done. And she had survived. Her prize would be happiness, she hoped. A future. One that couldn't entirely make up for what she'd lost, but one she would relish and fill with joy and love.

With Lucien by her side.

Her eyes stung, and she pulled her thoughts back, summoning the self-control the long years of exile had taught her to banish the tears and school her face to blankness as the colonel produced a key.

"Your Imperial Highness?" he said, pushing the door open. "Lord Castaigne is here to see you."

He waved them forward, and the six of them filed inside. No sign of the prince. The colonel locked the door behind them, then crossed to another door, which Chloe thought most likely lead to some sort of sitting room if this suite was similar to others in the palace.

The colonel knocked, but there was no answer, and his brows drew down.

He pulled the door open, took a half step forward, and then froze. Just for a second or two before he turned and said in a voice like stone, "Your Grace, I think perhaps your services are required."

Valentin turned pale. "Goddess, don't tell me—"

He strode forward into the room, and Colonel Perrine held up a hand when Lucien tried to follow. "Wait, please, my lord Truth Seeker."

Oh goddess.Chloe swayed, her mind conjuring images of what Alain may have done.

[Come?] Octarus demanded. He must have sensed her distress.

[No. Not yet.] The last thing they needed was an angry sanctii.

"He's alive," Valentin called back. "But, Sophia—sorry, Your Majesty, I think we may need Elarus."

At that, Lucien stepped forward, shoulders set. "Perrine, I need to be in there. I have to stand witness."

The colonel's mouth flattened, but he stepped back. Chloe followed Lucien inside, bracing herself. Sophie, Cameron, and Elarus were hard on her heels, but they all pulled up sharp at the sight of Valentin kneeling beside a sofa, one hand on Alain's wrist.

The prince was awake, or at least his eyes were open. His expression was vacant, and he didn't so much as blink to indicate he knew they were there. Strewn around his feet were a dozen or more pieces of blackened stone.

"Scriptii," Sophie said in a stricken voice, her face twisting.

Valentin nodded once, his mouth twisting in anger. Or distress, perhaps. "Memory charms would be my guess," he said. "He's used them on himself." He waved a hand in front of the prince's face, but there was still not so much as a flicker of reaction from Alain. "Elarus? Can you tell what he's done?"

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