The king's chamber was silent after Alaric's escape—so silent that Caelum could hear only his own heartbeat thundering in his ears.
The king… truly had no pulse.
This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.
Back in his chamber, he paced back and forth, hands trembling slightly as his aide stood nearby, equally shaken.
"H-How did this go wrong?" Caelum demanded, voice cracking with panic he rarely showed. "The medicine—your potion—was meant to put him into a coma, not kill him! We were supposed to hide Father afterward, not—"
He stopped, breath catching as he sat in a sofa nearby.
"This wasn't part of the plan," he whispered, almost to himself. "It wasn't supposed to be real."
The aide bowed deeply, guilt twisting his expression. "Your Highness… I don't understand either. I prepared the sedative exactly as you ordered. It should have only slowed his pulse—c-coma, not death. Unless someone—"
The doors slammed open.
The queen consort strode in, her gown sweeping across the floor, eyes sharp and unbothered—as if she hadn't ruined everything.
"I tampered with the potion," she said plainly.
Both Caelum and the aide stiffened.
His mother continued, tone annoyingly casual, "The one you prepared was too weak. Too unreliable. If you wanted your father gone, it was better to ensure the result."
Caelum felt the blood drain from his face. "…How did you even know about my plan?"
She smiled faintly. "Caelum, you are my son. I always know what you're thinking. I have my ways of gathering information."
Meaning she had spies on him too.
His stomach twisted.
"And why," he asked through clenched teeth, "did you sabotage it? I told you the king wasn't supposed to die. Not now."
Her expression hardened slightly. "Because your plan had too many loopholes. A fake death? A hidden king? That kind of uncertainty is dangerous. Loose ends should be tied permanently, not tucked away."
Caelum couldn't believe her—her ease, her confidence, her dismissal of every risk.
His hand trembled.
"Get out," he snapped.
The aide flinched in shock.
The queen lifted her brows. "Caelum."
"Get. Out."
There was no mistaking the fury behind his voice.
But instead of lashing back—
instead of delivering the cold, sharp reprimand she always had—
the queen consort fell silent.
Caelum blinked.
She simply looked at him for a long moment, unreadable, and then said quietly:
"You should calm down. And prepare yourself. We must announce the king's death."
She turned and left.
The door closed behind her.
Caelum sank into the nearest chair, head in his hands. His chest felt tight, his breath uneven.
Why wasn't she angry?
Why didn't she chastise him?
Why… did it feel like he was losing control of everything?
_________________________________________
The palace courtyard was filled with nobles, soldiers, and citizens summoned unexpectedly. The air was tense, heavy with curiosity, fear, and the scent of incense burning under the morning sun.
The queen consort stepped forward first, voice cool and steady.
"People of the kingdom. We bring you grave news."
A ripple swept across the crowd.
"His Majesty, the King, passed away early this morning."
Gasps and muffled sobs filled the space.
Caelum stood beside her—the picture of a grieving prince—but inside, turmoil churned like a storm.
The queen lifted her hand to silence the crowd.
"And the one responsible for this treachery… is Prince Alaric."
A wave of shocked murmurs rolled through the people.
She continued sharply, "He poisoned His Majesty. He has fled the palace. By royal decree, he is to be captured alive. A generous reward awaits whoever succeeds."
The murmurs turned into a mixture of confusion and outrage.
"Prince Alaric? But he favored the king—"
"I heard he always protected His Majesty—"
"Traitor? Impossible—"
A knight chimed in loudly, "Prince Caelum will guide the kingdom! We must unite behind him in this moment of grief."
More voices joined:
"At least we have a righteous heir!"
"Prince Caelum will lead us!"
"For now, we must mourn!"
Caelum heard every word—but none brought comfort.
His throat felt tight.
He always hated his father but he wasn't supposed to be dead.
None of this was supposed to happen.
And yet… here they were.
________________________________________
The rumors traveled like wildfire—faster than the queen's messengers, faster than the palace horses—until by evening, they reached the borders of Vareth.
Rin happened to stop at the in nearby his apothecary store and and that's where he hear some murmurs and gossip of the villagers and travelers.
"Did you hear? The king is dead! And Prince Alaric—he killed him! They're hunting him down!"
Rin's things nearly slipped from his fingers.
His heart nearly stopped.
"What… did you say?" Rin asked, voice barely audible.
A villager repeated it eagerly, unaware of the devastation he was delivering.
Rin's hands trembled uncontrollably.
His breath came uneven, shallow.
His mind raced.
Alaric.
Accused.
Hunted.
Alone.
Rin pressed a hand to his chest, trying to calm the frantic beating.
"Alaric… what did you do?" he whispered.
"No… what did they do to you?"
For the first time in years—
Rin felt true fear.
Not for himself.
Not for their secret.
But for the man who promised to return to them.
And who might now die before he ever could.