Earlier that day — the royal prison.
The iron door to Gabriella's cell swung open with a groan as the guard unlocked it. She had only needed to give the command. They obeyed.
She rose gracefully from her cot, smoothing down the nonexistent wrinkles of her gown as though she were preparing for court, not stepping out of a prison cell. Her head tilted, her voice cool, steady, expectant.
"My visitor has arrived?" It wasn't really a question. It was more of a statement, a confirmation of what she already knew.
The guard bowed his head. "He awaits you, your highness."
She gave a small nod, not one of gratitude but of acknowledgment. She walked past him, out of the cell and into the corridors of the prison. She did not walk like a prisoner granted a privilege — no, she moved like a queen striding from one wing of her palace to another. The remaining guards didn't dare meet her eyes. None interfered.
They brought her into the small, sparsely furnished anteroom, a place meant for lawyers or grieving relatives. There, a man awaited. He was older now, his face lined with age, but the years had not stripped him of his bearing. Even softened by time, his posture was military straight, his presence sharp. Raphael Winston — once the right hand man of General Rosethorne.
He stood as she entered. He bowed. "Queen mother. You...requested my presence." His tone was respectful, though perplexed by the strange venue. He didn't question it. He didn't dare.
"Lord Winston," Gabriella greeted back. She did not sit. He did not either.
"I require information." Her words cut clean, sharp. "You served General Rosethorne in his final years. You were with him during the border skirmishes with Altheria — the ones after which the general brought back his 'son.' Prince Aiden. You must be familiar with the boy, even if you have long since withdrawn from high society."
Raphael's eyes widened slightly. He had heard whispers, of course, but hearing her name him so directly startled him. "Yes, your highness. I am familiar with Prince Aiden."
Gabriella's gaze was sharp, dissecting him like a hawk watching prey. The man didn't volunteer anything. He didn't seem the type to lie — but neither did he seem eager to speak truths best left buried.
"I will be direct with you, Lord Winston." Her tone hardened. "Aiden Rosethorne. The general always paraded him as his natural son. A miracle, they said. After decades of barrenness, the union bore fruit. But..." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "No one ever saw Lady Rosethorne pregnant. And Aiden's face? It matches neither of his parents. The child appeared only after the general returned from war. One couldn't help but...wonder."
A flicker passed across Winston's features, brief but undeniable. He said nothing.
Gabriella pressed, her words sharper than before. "Aiden isn't really the general's son, is he?"
The question landed like a blade. Raphael blinked, his weathered face caught between duty to the late commander and the authority of the woman standing before him. His lips parted, closed, then parted again. Finally, he exhaled slowly. "Your highness, I... the general loved the boy as his own. That is what matters—"
"But that is not what I asked, Lord Winston." Gabriella cut him off, her voice ice. "I did not ask about love. I do not require flowery words. This is not a question of morals. This is a question upon which the fate of Velluria itself may rest. I ask about blood. Tell me the truth. Now."
Raphael's jaw worked. His eyes flickered to the door, searching for escape, then back down to the stone floor. There was none. The general had sworn him to silence, sworn him to guard this secret to his grave. But if it had come to the empire itself... he knew what must be done.
"The general..." Raphael began slowly, his voice low, heavy with memory. "He was a private man. Devoted. Quiet. He loved Lady Rosethorne. Though it pained him that they could not have children, he bore it with loyalty to her. She was barren. That sorrow weighed on them both."
Raphael's gaze seemed to drift far away, back to the borderlands. His voice grew softer, almost reverent.
"During the campaigns, after a skirmish near the Aurelia River... we found him. The baby. He was floating in a reed basket down a narrow creek, wrapped in fine silks. Not the rags of a common foundling, no. Silks. The general saw it as a blessing — a sign from the gods. He claimed the boy as his own. We kept him hidden in the general's personal tent until the battles ended. He gave him a name. 'Aiden.'"
The old soldier paused, exhaling a long, weary breath. His eyes softened, as though he could still see that night.
"It was a dark night. Cold. But the boy... he seemed to have a light of his own. A will to live. Hence the name. 'Aiden' —it means little fire in the language of a far away land."
"When the war ended and we returned, the general and his wife claimed the boy publicly as theirs. He made me vow that no one would ever know otherwise. To the world, Aiden was his blood. His true son. He swore me to silence until my death. But if the empire itself stands on the edge... then yes. I break that vow."
His voice had steadied. He spoke not like a man betraying his commander, but like one fulfilling his final duty.
To Gabriella, it was not merely a confession. It was the last piece of a puzzle, sliding perfectly into place.
Her face, however, remained neutral, schooled into calm. "Thank you, Lord Winston. You have served your empire well. That will be all. Keep this conversation between us."
Lord Winston bowed. "Of course, your highness."
Dismissed, he left quickly, his boots echoing faintly down the stone hall.
Gabriella stood alone in the anteroom, still as a statue. Her face betrayed nothing, but within her, a storm raged. Suspicions were one thing. Confirmation was another.
Aiden.
Aiden was not Rosethorne's son at all.
He was James. James Corvette — the rightful Altherian heir, and the only one who could end Cyrus' reign.
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AN: Things are winding down hehe. Btw Aiden means little fire in Irish. I did not know this while naming him but when I was planning this chapter I was like god I hope it means something nice and I can fit it into the chapter. Surprisingly, it did. Another fun thing- I was scrolling thru my reading list and...I saw a novel a read a long time ago. And as I said, i randomly picked up names in my mind and use them right. So I saw where I picked up Aiden from. It...it was bad. Just know that. The mc was so bullied so traumatised everyone had it out for him he was shipped with his bully who suddenly decided hey, maybe I shouldn't do this to the guy who has an alcoholic father who pimps him out. (It was a lot, okay). If anyone is curious about it, i think it's named 'the bully and his quiet one' or smth, on Wattpad. At one point everyone was just like kill this poor boy at this point I'm not even joking death for him would be better or like where is CPS???. I left some comments there too, reply to me if anyone from here goes there and finds them! (It's not serious but you'll have a good laugh by how absurd it is).