Page 65 of Royal Vampire's Fake Mistress

Nate mirrored his path, crouched on a thick branch and surveying his surroundings once more. No creature lay in wait, and his senses weren’t pulsating in danger. He braced his body, then shimmied into the crack, feeling the cold edges of the wall touching his skin and shivering from it. When he landed on the other end, the silence in his head disappeared as sirens dinged in warning, alerting him that the safe moment was over.

Maddox was there, held down by guards from the castle with the royal emblem. Beside them stood Nicholas and Matthew, the latter expressionless and the former smirking smugly.

“Hello, brother. Your little lapdog just made our jobs easier. Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Maddox was the perfect hostage to ensure Nate wouldn’t go for Nicholas’s throat, and Nate behaved the whole way back to the castle after being assured that they wouldn’t hurt the half-vampire. It was with relief when Maddox’s departure towards the prison chambers was supervised by Matthew, who glanced back in subtle apology, stating without words that he had to keep pretending to be on the throne’s side. Now Nate could attack his brother, but it proved too late as chains were already on him, and he was ushered to the throne room for the first time.

It looked the same as it had before, polished and gleaming with crystal chandeliers and a golden chair towering above the rest. The queen sat on it comfortably, garbed in velvet red and a dainty crown encrusted in gemstones. But she wasn’t alone, as Nicholas stood on her right and a few house leaders lined up both sides, scrutinizing him on his march to the front.

Helena frowned when he stopped moving—or when they stopped dragging him—concern and pain quivering her mouth. Then she appeared to compose herself.

“You have some nerve trying to escape your punishment when it’s not enough for what you have done.”

“You have some nerve sitting there when we both know what happened—”

He choked as one of the guards whipped his chain back until stars exploded in his vision. Nicholas snarled.

“Don’t you dare insult the new ruler like that, you filthy murderer. With what you have done, you deserve to be eaten alive! You deserve to be ripped to shreds!”

“There is no need for all this violence, Prince Nicholas,” someone called out from the line of houses. “Isn’t that what we are here for?”

Nicholas reined himself in, the perfect image of sober apology and distraught charm. “I apologize. I got carried away. You have to understand that it’s still fresh.”

“They are right,” the queen piped in, composed as ever and authoritative. “We must do as we have discussed and let a proper interrogation decide his fate.”

Shock washed over Nate, not expecting that. But the murmured agreement from the crowd had him realizing it hadn’t been the queen’s decision at all. While the queen continued speaking, he scanned his sides, taking note of the house leaders nearby and their unreadable faces. Hope flared, but he tucked it in as he was tugged away and the scene changed again.

Some minutes later, he was taken to a different room devoid of sparkly artifice or a throne chair. A scholar sat to the side dressed in dark robes, Nicholas and the house leaders were gone, and Helena stood before him, her eyes lacking the compassion they held earlier. She spoke with cool precision.

“We have gotten Denison’s confession, but it is not enough for the houses. You have caused quite an uproar, my darling, one that cannot be contained unless we get your confession, too. They demand it. Today, scholar Maximus will bear witness to what goes on in this room and provide the truth to them so that peace will finally inhabit this island that you tried so hard to destroy.”

Maximus didn’t say a word, already writing down on his scroll.

“So, what is this now?” Nate intoned, refusing to let his mother take the lead. “Will you torture me to death until I enter a bargain deal with you like Denison did, only for you to kill me in the end—”

Again, his chains were tugged, signaling that the guards were on alert.

“Silence,” Helena said belatedly, glaring at him. “We don’t want your nonsense, only the truth.”

“You already know the truth.”

“Then state it.”

“You killed your husband. You connived with Nicholas.”

“That’s not the truth.”

“You betrayed the crown.”

“Not the truth.”

Again and again, his chains were yanked until his neck was tender, and his legs were trembling from having to kneel abruptly, repeatedly. Then it was switched as the queen began her verbal accusations.

“You murdered the king in cold blood. You let yourself be influenced by your lover who had nothing but greed in her heart.”

“Lies.”

“You killed House Rue and Denison to get rid of the evidence.”

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