Chapter 75: Under Suspicion [I]

"It’s shorthand," Basil finally whispered, his voice cracking slightly. "Our secret code."

"What?" the Queen asked, her brow furrowing.

"When I was little," Basil said, keeping his eyes locked on the blood, "she taught me a private way of writing. She called it shorthand, our secret way of communicating. Whenever I wanted to leave her a note that I didn’t want anyone else to read, I’d use these symbols. It was a simple substitution cipher. Only she and I knew it. We started it as a game, just something fun between us." His voice faltered for a moment as he stared at the markings. "Who could have known she’d use it one last time?"

The Queen watched him carefully, concern deepening in her eyes. "Are you sure you’re okay, son?"

Basil remained crouched for another moment, his gaze fixed on the symbols. His fingers curled against his thigh before he finally drew in a slow breath and looked up at her. There was pain in his eyes, but he quickly masked it with a faint, reassuring smile. "I’m okay, Mother," he assured her quietly. "It hurts, but I can handle it. I just need to understand what she was trying to tell me."

The Queen studied his face for a long moment before gently squeezing his shoulder.

"You know you’re allowed to grieve, Basil," she said softly. "You’re allowed to mourn her. She’s still your grandmother, despite everything that happened between you. I’m not going to ask you to pretend that her death doesn’t hurt just because she betrayed you."

Basil’s expression softened. He lowered his eyes for a moment, swallowing against the tightness in his throat. "Thank you, Mother," he said quietly. "I know. And I do appreciate that. But I’m fine. At least for now." He took another steadying breath before turning his attention back to the bloodstained floor. "Let’s just go back to the message she left behind."

The Queen nodded, though she still looked worried. "So, are you saying you know what this message means?"

Basil looked down at the four blood-traced symbols again. He studied each one carefully, following the shapes in his mind and matching them to the secret alphabet Linda had taught him so many years ago. "It spells a word," he finally said. His brow furrowed as he examined the symbols again. "I think it’s some kind of password."

"A password?" The Queen looked confused. "A password to what?"

"I don’t know." Basil slowly rose to his feet, his knees stiff from crouching on the cold stone floor. He turned to face his mother, his expression suddenly thoughtful. "Maybe it’s connected to her phone."

"Her phone?"

"When Linda was arrested, her personal belongings were confiscated, right? Her phone and anything else she had with her?" Basil asked.

The Queen nodded slowly. "Yes. Your father ordered the guards to secure everything that belonged to her."

"Then we need that phone." Basil’s voice became firmer. "Where is it?"

The Queen didn’t hesitate before turning toward the guard standing outside the cell, her posture instantly shifting into royal authority. "Take us to wherever Linda’s confiscated belongings are being kept."

"Right away, Your Majesty," the guard said, immediately bowing his head.

Basil took one last look at the markings on the floor before stepping out of the cell.

*****

The council chamber had always been an imposing room, with its high vaulted ceiling, dark polished walls, enormous windows overlooking the palace gardens, and the royal crest carved into the stone behind the King’s seat. Yet this morning, the grandeur of the chamber seemed almost irrelevant. Voices echoed from every corner as council members argued, accused, and interrupted one another, each determined to prove that his suspicions were justified.

And, for once, nearly all of them were singing the same tune.

Field Marshal Thompson sat quietly in his chair, watching the members of the King’s Council tear into one another across the massive round table, echoing everything he had subtly planted during their last session. He had carefully convinced them that Basil was deeply involved in the growing chaos and needed to be brought in for official questioning.

"How could an assassin possibly get into the Royal Crown Medical Center?" one of the council members demanded, slamming a hand against the table. "That is a royal hospital. One of the most heavily secured facilities in the entire kingdom. Every entrance is monitored, every medical professional is screened, and the prince was surrounded by royal guards. Yet an assassin somehow managed to walk straight into his room!"

"Exactly!" another council member shouted. "And six royal guards were found unconscious outside the prince’s room. Six! How does something like that happen while Prince Basil was just behind the door? Unless he knew about it beforehand."

Several voices immediately rose in agreement.

Lord Thompson leaned back in his chair, his fingers loosely interlocked over his stomach as he allowed himself a brief, hidden smile. He did not need to say much today. The council members were doing the work for him.

Things had not gone exactly according to the initial plan, but the trajectory was still moving in his favor. The original plan had been to elevate Basil to the throne after Darius was permanently removed, wait until the crown was placed on his head, and then unleash the carefully damning evidence framing him for his brother’s murder. They would expose every accusation surrounding Basil and present the evidence in a way that made it appear as though he had deliberately eliminated his own brother to seize the throne. They would turn public sympathy into outrage and convince the kingdom that the man sitting on the throne was not only unworthy of it, but a murderer who had obtained the crown through bloodshed.

Basil would be stripped of his title, labeled a traitor who had shed blood for power, and cast out. With the main line broken and discredited, the crown would naturally revert to the Thorns family line, where Thompson believed it belongs. But now things were becoming messier than expected. Prince Darius had survived the assassination attempt, and Basil’s involvement in apprehending the assassin had given him something Thompson had not anticipated.

But none of that worried him. The more questions the council asked, the more suspicious Basil looked. He only needed to keep pushing. The timeline was simply accelerating.

"This is precisely what Lord Thompson warned us about during the last meeting," someone said. "He told us Prince Basil’s involvement needed to be investigated. Some of us thought the accusation was premature. But after what happened last night, I believe Lord Thompson was right all along."

Thompson raised a brow at that.

"Everyone needs to calm down," Prime Minister Jonathan Ashcroft finally said, his voice cutting through the growing uproar. He had remained silent for much of the argument, but the accusations had reached a point he could no longer ignore. "You are all leaping to ridiculous conclusions based on rumors. According to the information we have received, Prince Basil was the one who apprehended the assassin and saved Darius’s life. We should at least consider that before accusing him of being involved." His face flushed with frustration as he looked around the table. "You cannot condemn someone simply because you find the circumstances suspicious."

One of the senior councilors snorted, glaring across the table at Ashcroft. "Prime Minister, I fail to understand why you blindly defend the prince at every turn. Are we sure you don’t have a personal stake in this cover-up?"

Ashcroft’s jaw tightened. "Watch your tongue, Lord Marvell."

"Why should he?" another noble chimed in, rising from his chair to join the attack. "Prince Basil is engaged to your daughter, Prime Minister. If Darius dies and Basil ascends to the throne, your daughter becomes Queen, and your family gains considerable influence over the court. Of course you want to shield him."

A murmur swept through the room.

"This is absurd!" Jonathan snapped.

"Is it?" the second councilor pressed, leaning forward over the table. "You say Basil apprehended the assassin, but how did the killer even get into the ICU suite in the first place? And what about the reports from the hospital staff? Two unidentified men were seen entering the prince’s floor shortly before the attack occurred, men who were not on the security ledger. The whole thing reeks of staged theater. Prince Basil must be questioned by this council immediately."

Jonathan’s jaw tightened.

"You’re just going to make assumptions based on incomplete information?"

"Then give us a better explanation, Prime Minister," another councilor shot back. "Because from where we’re sitting, every new detail only raises more questions about Prince Basil."

"They aren’t evidence of his guilt either," Jonathan said firmly.

At the head of the round table sat the King, looking drained and older than he had only days ago. He rested his elbows on the polished wood, his head supported in his hands as he listened to his noblemen tear his family apart.