The Witch's Cursed Daughter

42. Verdict

Everyone in attendance remained silent as the king cast his gaze over the hall. The knights and guards did not have a say, yet they cowered under the pressure. While the King waited for any answer, only the word of the Counsellor, Chancellor or Grandmaster would have held any weight.

The three men did not look to one another for confirmation but instead stayed silent.

The Grandmaster kept his head turned away, uninterested by the politics not associated with war, and the Counsellor kept hidden away in the corner as usual, wrapped in shadow like a snake waiting to strike. Julian's eyes traced him as they always did; the man's unnerving appearance was just as vile as he.

Lucienne Ad Henos, the Chancellor, was a short, fat man who had looked over Julian's growth in place of his mother since he was young. He had even searched for him during the incident with Evianna's mother and met him with the carriage that returned him to the palaces. Trusting his silence, Julian realised that this was the lightest punishment he could receive.

With no argument, the King summoned his steward and signed his name beside the punishment order. Falling back into his throne, he patted Illea's head, who was staring at Romile.

Clearing his throat loudly, to sound more assertive, the King stated, "By the same standards, Romile Vol Fassie, the Second Prince's personal Guard, as well as Miss Cabot's escort on this occasion, failed to carry out his duty, leading to the unfortunate and untimely death of his charge. Under the circumstances, he shall be sentenced to one-month probation from participation in his usual duties as a Guard, as well as two-week confinement along with the Second Prince. Additionally, a shadow to oversee the return of his duties once his probation is up and the standard one hundred lashes for failure to protect. Do any oppose?"

Once again, the magnificent room was quiet enough for the echoes of the King's voice to swim around the hall without interruption. Romile did nothing, though he could imagine the cold touch of the whip on his bones; he kept his head down. Yet again, seeming pleased, the King signed the order.

"Finally, the Mage, Nile Voster, as you were not directly linked to this event, you shall be given a warning. If you had progressed to the scene promptly, the following unfortunate deaths could have been lessened. In order for you to truly realise your mistake, once the mourning period is over, you shall work with Imperial Princess Illea on a new cure for Soul Vine. I am aware that this is a challenging task; however with your great magical gifts combined, I am positive that the two of you could at least discover preventive measure against the poison, if not an antidote. After all, Mage Voster, your specialty is healing magic, is it not?"

"Indeed, My King," Voster replied, gritting his teeth as he bowed. His mind screamed at the notion of working with the princess on a fruitless task that has remained unaccomplished for over two hundred years.

Yawning, the King exclaimed, "Excellent!"

"I will make you proud, Father," Illea tittered, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

Pleased, the King laughed. The image of them playing as though they were an ordinary family caused Julian's stomach to twist in disgust. Watching the flowery atmosphere between them, Julian mustered his courage, calling out to his father.

"Your Royal Majesty, will I be able to attend Evianna's funeral?"

The earlier laugher disappeared as if it were never there, a crude smirk on his face, the King rebuffed, "I believe Baroness Cabot would be able to rest better without your presence or that of your Guard." Before Julian could counter, he raised his hand, blocking the young prince's body from view, "You are dismissed."

Unable to find another opportunity to speak, Julian nodded to the others. Romile and Voster obediently bowed and followed Julian towards the exit. Suddenly, Julian felt a familiar chill by his shoulder. Looking over, he saw the beautifully wretched face of his sister as she caught up to him.

With her usual cat-like grin, she whispered, "I'll be preparing my poor friend's funeral, don't fret, dear brother."

Prancing ahead, she had disappeared before the large black doors of the Kings hall closed behind the boys.

Although they were all facing unjust punishment, the boys felt a wave of relief at the hint of morning's arrival on the horizon as they worked their way out of Warrick Palace. Stepping out into the crisp air, they laughed, their resolve renewed.