Chapter 71: The Weight of a Lie

Retave had suspected, until only a moment ago, that Varka himself sat behind the mysterious letter, the one that had handed him such detailed knowledge of the Pocket Orb.

That suspicion wavered now, watching the sharp, unblinking way his father’s eyes had fixed on Helia.

Perhaps Varka already understood something of what was unfolding here, some sense that Helia might not be the Pocket Orb’s true creator at all. But it seemed just as likely that Varka held nothing so precise as what Retave himself had gained from his mysterious informant.

And Retave meant to use exactly that gap, the true ownership of the Relic, to pull Helia down from her new standing as a throne contender. If he could bring the truth into the open here, her place within the Bravenheart Empire might shrink to nothing, and exile could follow close behind.

Varka despised liars. That much was well known. And tonight of all nights, his own image as a ruler stood on display before half the empire’s nobility.

It would make for a poor joke indeed, an emperor famed across the continent for his strength discovering that his own daughter was a fraud, a discovery certain to chip away at the foundation of the throne he sat upon, and worse, one that could hand every rival emperor beyond Bravenheart’s borders something to laugh about for years.

Varka stood beneath the blazing chandelier light with all the weight of his presence gathered around him, his gaze fixed on Helia and nowhere else.

Helia lowered her head slightly, as though she couldn’t bear to meet her father’s eyes directly. Those standing close enough could see the faint tremble at her lips.

"Why do you stay silent, Helia?"

She said nothing. Varka’s voice climbed, unhurried but unmistakably harder than before.

"Tell me. Did you make that Pocket Orb yourself?"

Helia understood there was no dodging this, not standing before her own father. But she understood, too, that admitting the truth now, that the Orb wasn’t hers at all, would ruin her utterly. Every effort she’d poured into tonight would vanish behind a single wrong word.

Worse, from the corner of her eye, she caught the edge of a smile on Retave’s face, thin and mocking. That alone was enough to steady her spine. She wasn’t about to lose this fight.

"It’s true, Father. I am the one who made the Pocket Orb."

Helia reached for the flame again, and this time the fire she’d chosen to play with had grown far too large for her to hold alone.

She didn’t notice it at first, the way the marble beneath her feet had begun to splinter with each word of her lie, hairline cracks spreading outward from where she stood.

The fractures came from Varka. Beneath his own feet, a current of raw mana pressure had begun pouring out of him, heavy enough to shudder through the floor itself.

"Your Majesty!"

Helia dropped instantly into a deep, correct bow, her whole body folding low before him.

"I’ll ask you once more, Helia. Did you build that Relic, the Pocket Orb, with your own two hands? Without anyone else’s help?"

The question came again, unchanged, as though her first answer had never reached him at all. But its meaning had sharpened now. He was asking her to confirm the truth outright, whether her own hands, and no one else’s, had shaped that Relic.

The agreement Helia and Lucian had signed only stated, in the barest terms, that Helia was recognized as the Pocket Orb’s creator. It said nothing at all about whether the Princess herself, unaided, had made it.

Helia’s heart hammered against her ribs. If she answered the same way again, the consequences waiting for her would be far heavier than before.

Then, from behind her, someone moved. A figure stepped forward past her, closing the distance to Varka even with that crushing pressure still bearing down on the hall.

"Your Majesty. Please, calm yourself."

It was Kaelyn. He dropped to his knees before the Emperor without hesitation.

A ripple of shock passed through the watching guests.

"Fifth son of House Sarnel, Kaelyn. What do you think you’re doing?"

Varka’s question cut sharp, demanding to know exactly what had possessed him to interrupt an exchange with Helia. Imperial guards were already closing in from every side, weapons leveled at Kaelyn before he’d finished speaking.

Varka lifted a hand, and the guards froze where they stood, falling back without another word, leaving whatever was happening here to their Emperor alone.

"Forgive this foolish interruption, Your Majesty. I only wished to bear witness for Princess Helia, that she alone is the one who created the Pocket Orb."

"You? You wish to testify for Helia?"

Varka’s stare cut toward him, sharp enough to draw blood.

Then, watching the two of them struggle visibly to breathe, their words growing thin and strained under the sheer weight of his mana, Varka let the pressure ease, drawing it back into himself by degrees. Helia and Kaelyn both drew a ragged breath of relief.

The sweat that had soaked through their clothes hadn’t stopped, and beneath them both, the marble floor had darkened where it pooled.

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

Helia and Kaelyn spoke almost in unison, grateful for the mercy of a lifted hand.

"Then let’s hear it. How do you intend to testify, fifth son of House Sarnel?"

Kaelyn pressed both hands together and lowered one knee fully to the floor before the Emperor.

"I have no physical proof that Princess Helia built that Relic with her own two hands, alone. But I can swear that every word I speak here carries no falsehood in it."

"I, Kaelyn Sarnel, fifth son of House Sarnel, witnessed with my own eyes, over the course of a full year, that Princess Helia is the one who made the Pocket Orb herself, without anyone else’s assistance."

"And I will say plainly, no fool in this hall would dare stand here and claim to be the Pocket Orb’s true creator, save the Princess herself."

Kaelyn delivered every word loudly enough to fill the hall, and a portion of the crowd stirred with something close to admiration, as though watching a hero step forward to shield the woman he loved.

It was, in truth, a magnificent lie.

Below the dais, Lucian watched the whole exchange unfold with perfect clarity, Kaelyn’s performance and Helia’s composure both, and understood in that instant that this had been planned between them long before tonight.

"Bastard."

The word left Lucian’s mouth before he could stop it, low and involuntary. He rarely cursed in front of anyone, let alone a hall full of nobility.

Kaelyn’s declaration, dressed up as testimony, was in truth a challenge aimed squarely at Lucian, and a warning besides, not to break the agreement he’d signed.

Breaking it now might return the Pocket Orb’s rights to him, but the cost of that violation would be anything but small. Beyond the social ruin of being branded a man whose word meant nothing, Lucian would face a physical penalty too.

Each family bound by such an agreement held the right to shatter the violator’s own Mana Core.

So this is what I’ve been used for, all along.