Chapter 178: Jailed 1

EDELINA

The dungeons greeted me with the same foulness I remembered from my first visit, when Cornelius, proud of his kingdom’s cruelty, had paraded me here to show me how the Kingdom dealt with its enemies. The air was thick with damp stone, rusted iron, and the sour reek of forgotten bodies. I pressed a perfumed handkerchief to my nose, making no effort to disguise my revulsion.

I should have realized where that bastard intended to send my son the moment he spoke of a place untouched by light.

Two sentinels escorted me down the last flight of stairs in silence. Torches guttered in an invisible draft, casting our shadows long and warped across the stone. With each step, they writhed ahead of us, as if warning of some lurking beast below.

The prisoners sensed our approach. By the time we entered the main block, the usual clamor had vanished, replaced by a hush I knew well from courtrooms and execution grounds. It was the silence of men who smelled blood and waited to see who would bleed first.

"Well, look what the Crown has dragged into our little hole."

"A queen," another voice called from the darkness. "Come to inspect the filth?"

"Perhaps she’s finally looking for a place to bury her crown."

Crude, witless jests from men resigned to die in these walls. Yet their laughter still echoed down the corridor, desperate and defiant.

If this was their idea of entertainment or an insult, my worry for my son only deepened.

I kept walking. My heels struck the stone in an even rhythm, my spine straight despite the ache between my shoulders. For years, I had walked into rooms full of men who would have gladly watched me die if it meant advancing their own interests. I had learned long ago that the trick was never to let them see you measure the exits.

A few caged dogs would not be the first to test me.

The guards halted at the central cage, a wide iron pen already packed with prisoners like so many others. I took one more step, then froze at what I saw inside.

Johann was brought to his knees before the gate.

His hands were tied behind him, shoulders pulled taut with pain. His shirt hung open at the collar, revealing bruises blooming yellow along his throat and jaw. In the torchlight, his skin seemed drained of all color.

Two sentinels stood over him while a third worked at the heavy lock on the cage. The key in his hand was nearly as long as my forearm, and that was no exaggeration.

For a heartbeat, I could not comprehend what I was seeing. Then the shock iced over into something far colder.

"What is the meaning of this?"

The sentinel with the key did not turn around. "The regent’s orders, Your Majesty. Prince Johann is to be detained."

I recognized that fucking tone instantly. They treated me like a fool, offering only the barest scrap of false respect that would not endanger their newfound pride and life. Why should they care, when Lysander himself had already shamed me?

Still... I refused to back down. Putting Johann in that cage was suicide.

"Detained?" I repeated. "Is that what you call throwing a prince into a cage with men who would slit his throat for the pleasure of watching him choke?"

"This assigned cell is occupied."

"Then find another or an empty one."

"The Alpha-"

"And you thought mentioning Lysander would do shit? What the fuck happened to that free cell I see over there?"

He finally glanced over his shoulder. There was neither shame nor apprehension in his expression, only the bored indifference of a man who had already decided that whatever happened next was someone else’s problem.

"There is a way things are done around here, Your Majesty. We have done so."

"No. You plan to have him maimed. There is a difference, and I suggest you learn it before I decide to teach you one."

The sentinel’s expression tightened, but before he could answer, a rough voice came from inside the cage.

"Careful, Your Majesty. You’ll hurt the man’s feelings."

The prisoners pressed against the bars. Faces surfaced from the gloom, drawn by the promise of spectacle. Some grinned, others watched with the weary curiosity of men who had spent years with only suffering for amusement. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ

A broad-shouldered man with a shaved head and a scar cleaving his upper lip muscled to the front. His eyes roamed over Johann with the slow, cold appraisal of a butcher sizing up meat.

"So the whispers were true," he said. "The royal family has finally started eating itself."

Someone behind him laughed.

"Which one of you was the reason you lost the throne?"

"Do not be rude man... Maybe he is still in line for the throne... maybe they brought us the next king," another prisoner said. "Thought we might teach him a few things before he inherits the mess."

The scarred man crouched in front of Johann, gripping the bars with both hands.

"Look at me, boy."

Johann did not move.

"I said, look at me."

My son lifted his head out of pride mostly.

For a fleeting, wrenching moment, I saw the boy he once was—the child who had learned to lift his chin whenever his father entered, who mistook stillness for strength because that was what we taught him. He tried to summon that same icy, imperious mask now, but exhaustion betrayed him. His jaw quivered before he forced it still, and his eyes darted to me.

He looked ashamed.

That wounded me more than any bruise ever could.

The scarred man noticed the exchange and smiled.

"There it is. I was wondering whether the little prince had any blood left in him."

"Leave him alone," I ordered.

The man turned his head toward me, his smile widening.

"Or what?"

The question hung between us.

He straightened, never releasing his grip on the bars. "You going to have us whipped, Your Majesty? Send us to the gallows? Perhaps you’ll ask your precious son to pass judgment. Though I doubt he’ll be giving orders to anyone for a while."

A murmur of amusement passed through the cage.

"Do you know who he is?" I asked. "Who I am!?"