Chapter 74: Shorthand

As the guards led them deeper into the underground prison, Basil felt a strange heaviness settle over him. The cells seemed darker than he remembered, the silence more oppressive. The last time he had walked these halls, he had come searching for answers, his anger burning hotter than any sense of reason. Back then, he had believed there would always be another chance, another opportunity to ask the questions that still haunted him.

Who could have guessed he would return so soon, not to confront her, but to stand in the space where she drew her last breath? To examine the place where she had died?

The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Eventually, they reached the final cell at the far end of the corridor, and the guard stepped forward and unlocked the heavy iron door.

The hinges groaned loudly as it swung inward.

Basil stepped inside first.

The metallic stench of dried blood hit him instantly, thick and heavy in the cramped, windowless space. On the stone floor near the entrance, a dark, rust-colored stain spread across the ground, its jagged edges marking where her body had apparently collapsed and dragged itself across the rough stone.

His stomach tightened.

He could only imagine what she must have been feeling in her final moments. The pain. The fear. The desperate determination that had somehow driven her to leave a message behind before death claimed her.

"We made sure the guards kept the scene completely untouched," the Queen said softly, her voice hushed as though afraid to disturb the silence. "After the physicians examined the body, we ordered everyone to preserve the scene exactly as it was found. Tell me if you can make any sense of it."

Looking at the dried blood, a sharp, physical ache bloomed in Basil’s chest. Uneven streaks stained the floor and walls, forming strange markings that looked as though they had been written by someone rapidly losing strength.

His jaw tightened as he stared at them.

Linda had been nothing but a good nanny to him, even before the truth came out. Though he now understood why, it still didn’t make the pain any less real, nor did it erase everything she had been to him throughout his life. She had been the one who bandaged his scraped knees after brutal training sessions. The one who sat beside his bed through feverish nights. The one who held his hand and sang him to sleep when he couldn’t rest. She had been his sanctuary.

Basil regretted not appreciating her enough before everything had fallen apart. He regretted the bitter words, the distance, and the way their final conversations had been overshadowed by anger and betrayal. No matter what had happened, she was still his grandmother, the only blood family he had ever truly known.

Seeing her life end in this freezing, miserable cage tore at something deep inside him.

For a moment, he couldn’t even bring himself to look away from the stains.

The Queen stepped beside him, her expression filled with concern. "Basil," she said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Are you all right? If this is all too much for you, we can leave and come back later when you’re feeling better."

Basil shook his head. "No. It’s fine. I’m fine, Mother." He gave the Queen a reassuring look, silently assuring her that he could handle it, though his voice had come out rougher than he intended. Slowly, he crouched down to get a better look at the markings.

"I just need a minute."

The Queen watched him in silence as he lowered himself closer to the floor.

Basil stared at the strange symbols scratched into the bloodstained stone, his thumb unconsciously tracing their shapes through the air just millimeters above the dried crimson crust. His eyes narrowed as fragments of old memories surfaced, and a growing sense of familiarity began to settle over him.

Basil was suddenly back in his childhood nursery, a five-year-old prince giggling as his nanny drew funny, different shapes on a piece of paper.

"Do you want me to teach you our very own secret language, my prince?" Linda had asked, her voice warm and filled with gentle affection as she held up the sheet of paper covered in strange symbols. "That way, whenever you want to leave a message meant only for me, nobody else in the palace will ever be able to read it."

Basil bounced excitedly on his heels, his eyes lighting up with delight. "Yes, Nanny! Teach me, please! I want to write secret notes to you!" He clapped his hands, practically vibrating with excitement at the idea of having a secret language that belonged only to the two of them.

Linda laughed softly, her eyes crinkling with affection as she shook her head at his enthusiasm. "Okay, okay. Come here, my little prince. Watch and learn carefully, all right?" She turned to a fresh page and tapped the tip of the pen against it.

Basil nodded eagerly. "Okay!" He pulled his chair closer to the table and leaned his chin on his crossed forearms.

"What I’m going to teach you is called shorthand," she whispered, as if sharing a sacred royal secret. "It’s a special way of writing words using simple signs, strokes, and curves instead of ordinary letters. Once you learn all the signs, you’ll be able to write messages that only someone who knows the shorthand can understand." She brought the pen down and began to draw the first symbol.

Basil leaned closer, his eyes following every movement of her hand.

"A single diagonal line dipping to the right, with a tiny hook at the base. That is an A." She moved to the next space, her hand fluid and practiced. "A solid horizontal dash crossing over a half-circle. That is a B. A sharp, narrow zigzag like a lightning bolt is a C, and a small open triangle pointing upward is a D."

Basil stared at them with fascination as she worked her way down the page, guiding his wide eyes through every glyph, stroke, and angle until all twenty-six characters rested side by side, transforming the standard alphabet into an unreadable string of strange marks. Some were made from simple lines and curves, while others looked like tiny stars, hooks, crossed strokes, circles, or shapes that resembled pieces of ordinary letters but were different enough to be impossible to recognize at a glance.

Once she had finished, Linda picked up her pen again and moved to the bottom of the page. "Now, let me show you how we use them to write actual words."

With swift, practiced motions, her hand danced across the page as she carefully copied a short message using only the symbols she had just taught him. When she finished, she tapped the line with the tip of her pen.

"What does that say?" Basil asked eagerly.

Linda smiled. "It says, ’I love Basil very, very much.’"

Basil’s face immediately broke into the brightest grin. "Can I try? Can I try?" he asked eagerly, reaching for the pen.

"Of course." Linda slid another sheet of paper toward him. "Go ahead. Write something for me."

Basil took the pen in both hands and stared at the alphabet of strange symbols scattered across the first page. His little tongue poked slightly from the corner of his mouth as he concentrated, carefully searching for each symbol he needed. He started with the first letter, then the next, slowly copying each sign beneath the other. He made several mistakes along the way, erased them, and tried again until he was satisfied.

Finally, he pushed the paper toward Linda with a proud little smile.

Linda looked down at the message, her eyes scanning his uneven, shaky strokes. A soft, exaggerated gasp left her lips, and her smile widened. "It says, ’I love my nanny very, very much.’"

Basil nodded eagerly, giggling. "Did I get it right?" he chirped.

"You got it perfectly right," she laughed, pulling him into a warm, fierce hug and burying her face in his hair. "Oh, my sweet boy, I love you too." She showered his face with kisses, making Basil shriek with delight before bursting into uncontrollable laughter. Linda joined him, laughing just as brightly as she peppered his cheeks with more kisses.

Over the years, it had become their private language. Whenever Basil wanted to leave a message that only Linda could read, he used the code, sometimes just for fun and sometimes when he wanted to tell her something without anyone else in the palace understanding.

And whenever Linda wanted to tell him something or reprimand him without the palace staff understanding, she used the same code.

Basil swallowed hard at the realization.

Out of everything she could have left behind, in her final agonizing moments as the poison tore through her body, Linda had reached back to the one private connection they had shared for most of his life. The realization made the ache in his chest deepen.