LUCIAN
The council chamber of the palace was never meant for peace. It was a place of polished words and sharpened intentions, where the air itself seemed to hum with hidden meaning. That morning, it was silent in a way that felt almost holy, the kind of quiet that comes before something breaks.
Lucian stood near the center table, hands clasped behind his back. His sister, the Crown Princess, sat beside the throne, her face pale with tension. The King's advisors lined the chamber, their robes whispering as they shifted in their seats.
At the far end, Grand Duke Montclair entered with the calm precision of a man certain of his power. His every movement drew attention. He bowed to the King, then turned his eyes toward Lucian. The faint smile he offered was not one of respect.
The King spoke first, his voice low and even. "Lord Ravenscroft, you have requested this audience. I trust you understand the gravity of your accusation."
"I do, Your Majesty," Lucian said, bowing his head slightly. "But the gravity of silence would be far worse."
The King's gaze sharpened. "Then speak."
Lucian stepped forward. "A week ago, Your Majesty, a rumor began to spread across the court. It spoke of a proposed union between my house and that of Lady Selina Marlowe, said to be arranged with the Crown Princess's blessing. It also spoke of a young lady who sought to prevent it, Lady Evelina Everleigh, accusing her of dishonor and deceit. Those rumors have reached every corner of the realm. They were not born from misunderstanding. They were planted."
A ripple of movement stirred through the nobles gathered around the room.
Alistair smiled faintly. "Rumors, Lord Ravenscroft, are the currency of the court. We all suffer from them. I see no reason this matter requires royal attention."
Lucian turned his gaze on him. "You would prefer it did not. But it does. Because the origin of those rumors leads back to your hall, Your Grace."
The smile faltered, if only slightly. "You accuse me without proof?"
Lucian reached into his coat and withdrew several folded letters. He placed them on the table before the King. "These were sent by your secretary, Lord Fenwick, under your seal, to several members of the council. They speak of the 'union to come' and of the need to silence dissenting voices. Each letter bears the same handwriting and wax."
Fenwick, seated among the lesser lords, went pale. Alistair did not look at him. "Forgeries," he said evenly.
Lucian's voice remained calm. "I thought you might say that. So I took the liberty of verifying the ink. It comes from the same batch purchased by your steward last month, from the merchant Haversham on the southern quay. The record is signed with your own crest."
The murmur grew louder now. Alistair 's allies shifted uneasily, glancing at one another.
Lucian continued, his tone steady. "You used the rumor to strike at two houses at once, Ravenscroft and Everleigh. You sought to isolate us, to turn the royal favor toward yourself. You whispered that I would wed another to gain back the Queen's grace, and that Evelina Everleigh was the obstacle. You fed the court's appetite for scandal until it became true."
Alistair 's voice was smooth, almost soothing. "And why, Lord Ravenscroft, would I waste my influence on something as petty as your affection for a lady?"
Lucian looked at him directly. "Because you cannot stand to lose to me."
The words hung in the air like a blade.
The King's hand rose. "Enough of this rivalry. The court is not your battleground."
"With respect, Your Majesty," Lucian said, "it has already become one. And it will not end until the truth is spoken."
He turned back to Montclair. "You call yourself the son of the late Queen. You claim her blood to justify your place beside the throne. But it is not your blood that ties you to it."
The chamber fell utterly silent.
Montclair's expression did not change, but the stillness around him felt dangerous. "Be very careful, Lord Ravenscroft."
Lucian took a breath. "When the Queen died, she left behind a collection of letters. Most were kept sealed by her handmaiden, Lady Estienne, until her death two months ago. I received one of them from her nephew, who served under my command in the northern guard."
He lifted another parchment, aged, yellowed, the ink faded but clear. "This is her confession. In it, the late Queen writes of a child born during her husband's absence, a child she claimed as her own to preserve the royal line. That child was you, Alistair Montclair."
Gasps broke from every side of the room. The King's face had gone pale.
Lucian continued, his voice steady though his heart pounded. "The true father was not the King but a commoner, born from the infidelity of the Princess Royal. The Queen writes of regret, of guilt, and of fear for the scandal that would destroy the realm. She raised you as her own, but you were not of her blood. You are not the rightful heir for the crown."
Alistair laughed quietly, but there was no warmth in it. "A forged letter and a dead servant. That is the foundation of your claim?"
"The handwriting was verified by the royal archivist," Lucian said. "And the letter bears the Queen's private seal, the one she used only for correspondence to the Princess Royal. You cannot deny it without denying your own history."
Alistair's calm began to fracture. "Even if it were true, it would change nothing. I was raised as her son. The King himself called me brother. My title is not one you can strip with a piece of paper."
Lucian's gaze hardened. "No. But it means every alliance you have forged in the Queen's name rests on a lie. Every favor, every claim of royal loyalty, every word spoken in council on her behalf, all of it built on deceit."
The room was alive now with whispers. The King rose slowly from his seat.
"Is what he says true, Alistair?"
Alistair met his gaze, and for the first time, something uncertain flickered behind his composure. "Your Majesty, I have served this crown faithfully. Whatever blood runs in my veins, my loyalty has never wavered."
"That was not my question."
Silence again.
Finally, Alistair bowed his head slightly. "I do not know what is true, your majesty."
The King's expression hardened. "You do not know? Yet, you build your power. You spread falsehoods, blackened a young woman's name, and divided my court."
Alistair straightened, defiant once more. "I did what was necessary to preserve order."
Lucian stepped forward. "You did it to preserve yourself."
Their eyes locked, two men bound by pride, history, and the woman they both could not forget.
The King spoke again, his voice low but final. "You will surrender your seal of office, Alistair. Until I decide your fate, you are confined to Montclair Hall. You are still my brother, your titles remain, but your influence ends here."
A stunned silence followed. Alistair did not argue. He only turned to Lucian, his eyes cold. "You think this victory will save you? The court forgets nothing. And Evelina will pay the price for every word you spoke today."
Lucian's voice was calm. "Then I will pay it with her."
Alistair's lips curled into something like a smile, but it did not reach his eyes. "We will see."
He bowed stiffly to the King and walked out, his footsteps echoing down the marble floor. The chamber remained silent until the great doors closed behind him.
Lucian stood still, his pulse steadying as the King turned back to him.
"You have done a dangerous thing, Lord Ravenscroft," the King said. "But perhaps it was necessary. The truth, it seems, no longer fears daylight."
Lucian bowed. "I will face whatever consequence comes, Your Majesty. But I will not stand by while lies are made into law."
The King nodded once. "Then may truth guard you better than power has guarded others."
When Lucian left the council chamber, the corridors seemed brighter, though he knew the danger was far from over. Alistair Montclair was too proud to vanish quietly. The court would soon divide again, this time between those who valued truth and those who preferred illusion.
But for now, the world felt a little less poisoned.
As he stepped into the open courtyard, the winter wind caught his cloak, carrying with it the distant chime of bells. Somewhere beyond the palace walls, Evelina would hear what had happened.
For the first time in weeks, Lucian let himself breathe.
The truth had been spoken before the throne, and though it might cost him everything, it was finally free.