THE KING'S POSSESSION

Chapter 78

Chapter 78: It was the Queen



"Speak, Victoria! Is Julian my son?!" Lucian roared, his voice echoing through the throne room. Victoria flinched in fear, her eyes wide with terror. The ministers were equally stunned, witnessing Lucian's fury, and sensing the potential for violence.

Victoria stammered, "Y-yes, Your Majesty. Julian is your son. How could he not be yours?" Her attempt to defend herself only revealed the tremor in her voice.

Lucian's gaze flickered to Head Minister Marlowe, catching a subtle exchange of glances. A cold realization settled over him as he understood the depths of the deceit surrounding him. His shoulders dropped, and his eyes grew icy. He could feel the betrayal from those closest to the crown.

"From now on," he declared, his voice low but deadly serious, "Prince Julian will have strict studies. He will not be allowed to play, nor leave his chambers. He will be moved to the southern wing of the palace. The Queen herself will not be allowed to see the child."

The ministers exchanged uneasy glances, the gravity of Lucian's decree sinking in. Victoria's face paled further, but she remained silent, knowing any protest could further enrage the king.

Lucian turned to face the assembly, his expression hardening. "Any disobedience or attempts to undermine my orders will be met with severe consequences. Do I make myself clear?"

A murmur of assent rose from the ministers, their previous bravado now completely extinguished. Lucian took one last, lingering look at Victoria, his eyes filled with anger and disappointment, before turning and striding out of the hall.

Lucian headed straight to his chambers as his steps grew faster and more erratic with each passing moment. As soon as the door closed behind him, the floodgates of his suppressed emotions burst open.

He screamed, his voice echoing through the empty room. He shouted in anger, his fists pounding against the walls as his body shook with both fury and sorrow. The weight of his regrets crashed down upon him with each memory cutting deeper than the last.

"How could I have been so blind?" he yelled, his voice breaking. "I protected the wrong woman! I chose her over Isabel, thinking it was for the best!"

Lucian sank to the floor, his head in his hands, tears streamed down his face. The memories of Isabel flooded his mind, each one a dagger to his heart. He remembered the times he had hurt her, six years ago, without knowing she was carrying his child. The regret was almost too much to bear.

"I hurt her," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I hurt her when she needed me the most."

His thoughts drifted to the recent past, the brief, fleeting moments when he had reunited with Isabel and his son, Liam. The joy he had felt was now overshadowed by the crushing loss. In the blink of an eye, the heavens had given him a chance to meet his family, only to snatch them away just as quickly.

"I finally had them," he cried, his voice a mere whisper now. "Isabel and Liam... and now they're gone."

Lucian's body shook with sobs, his heart breaking all over again. The realization of his mistakes and the loss of his loved ones was a torment he could hardly endure. But for now, all he could do was weep as the walls of his chambers bore silent witness to his grief.

Suddenly, a thought struck Lucian—he needed to see where Liam was buried. Despite his eyes still red and swollen from crying, he resolutely left his chambers. He found the first guard he saw and issued a command.

"Summon all the servants and guards of the inner palace," he demanded. "I will address them in the courtyard."

The guard responded with a swift, "Yes, sire," and hurried off to execute Lucian's command.

Lucian then addressed his maidservants, with an authoritative tone. "Prepare my martial robe," he instructed.

The maidservants bowed and moved with immediately, making their way to his wardrobe. They quickly retrieved the surcoat and other necessary garments, ensuring everything was in order.

Lucian stood rigidly in the center of his chamber while his expression was stern, a hardened mask of resolve.

One maid approached with the dark, richly embroidered surcoat draped over her arms. She carefully unfolded it, letting the heavy fabric cascade toward the floor. With a gentle but firm hand, she lifted the garment and draped it over Lucian's shoulders. The robe which was adorned with intricate patterns of silver thread, settled around him like a cloak of power.

Another maid stepped forward with the belt, its ornate buckle catching the light with a cold gleam. She carefully threaded the belt through the loops on the surcoat and fastened it snugly around Lucian's waist, adjusting it to ensure the robe hung perfectly.

The final touch came from the maid who adjusted the collar. She smoothed out the fabric with deft fingers, making sure every crease was in place. Lucian remained still, his eyes focused straight ahead, his jaw set in a tight line.

As the last touches were completed, Lucian glanced at his reflection in the polished mirror and hummed in satisfaction. His maidservants stepped back, bowing respectfully as he surveyed himself.

The king took a deep breath and with one final nod to his attendants, he turned on his heel and strode out of his chambers while the servants followed behind.

Lucian walked into the palace grounds, his anger evident and his presence imposing. The usual bustle of the courtyard had been replaced by an uneasy silence. Servants, guards, and courtiers stood motionless, their faces filled with fear. The recent outburst at the court had spread through the palace like wildfire, and it was clear that everyone knew of Lucian's wrath.

As he entered, the soft rustling of fabric and the muted clinking of armor were the only sounds that broke the oppressive quiet.

Lucian stopped at the center of the courtyard, his gaze sweeping over the assembled crowd. The atmosphere was thick with the silent acknowledgment of his displeasure, the normally lively space was now a stage for Lucian's imposing presence.

He stood there for a moment, letting the silence stretch, his eyes cutting through the nervous assembly.

And suddenly, Lucian's voice, cold and authoritative finally cut through the thick tension in the courtyard.

"Who amongst you knows where the body of the child is, the one executed days ago? And who gave the order for such a deed? I want every detail you possess."

A shiver ran through the assembly as everyone exchanged uneasy glances. The fear of speaking out was palpable, but the gravity of the king's demand loomed over them. Silence stretched, each person waiting for another to break it, their eyes darting nervously from face to face.

As the assembly fell into a frenzy of whispers and murmurs, the tension reached a breaking point. Lucian's patience snapped. With a swift, decisive motion, he drew his sword and flung the scabbard aside, its metallic clang echoing through the courtyard.

"Speak now, or face the consequences!" His voice was a roar of fury, reverberating through the assembled crowd. "If you value your lives, you will tell me everything you know. Failure to do so will not be forgiven."

The threat was unmistakable, the king's fury was obvious. The murmurs quieted to anxious shuffling.

Amidst the tense silence, a lone guard fell to his knees, his armor clinking with the movement. "It was the queen... Sire! I am begging you, spare us. It was the queen," he pleaded, his voice trembling with fear.

Lucian's gaze, intense and unwavering, locked onto the man. With a slight lift of his chin, he commanded, "You will be detained." His voice was cold and decisive, leaving no room for further argument. He then turned to the rest of the assembly and declared, "The rest of you may go."

As the crowd dispersed with relief, Lucian's eyes remained fixed on the guard, his anger barely contained as he prepared to uncover the full extent of the queen's schemes.