The Prince's Arranged Marriage
Chapter 72: Bigger Threats

Chapter 72: Bigger Threats

The guards’ keys clinked like iron bells as Alexander and I followed the heavy escort through the winding passages of the royal dungeons. The air was cool and damp, scented with moss and oil. Torches in iron sconces cast long shadows that flickered against stone walls scarred by centuries of confinement. My heart hammered with tense anticipation: this was the next step in our pursuit of justice.

Behind the iron portcullis, the corridor narrowed. Cells lined either side, their bars thick and cold. Through each barred window, I glimpsed faces—some resigned, some haunted, others curious at our arrival. Yet as I passed, no prisoner approached. The hush pressed on my ears, as though even the rats in the dark tunnels had fallen silent.

At the end of the corridor, Guard Captain Archibald halted. "Here, Your Highnesses," he said, pressing a large iron key into the lock. The gate swung open with a groan of protest.

Inside stood three cells. In the first, Minister Hadrian sat on a rough wooden bench, arms folded, his thick cloak pooled at his feet. His stern posture had cracked only once when the trumpets of arrest had sounded—now his gaze was coolly contemplative.

In the second cell, Lord Torric leaned against the far wall, hands cuffed behind him. He spat at the floor, his face twisted in defiance.

In the third, Countess Elowen perched on her bench, back straight, chin lifted. Even in the dim light, her pale gown was impeccably clean, her posture regal.

Beyond them, a fourth cell contained the hooded Aradeth envoy. His face remained hidden beneath a dark hood, but I could see the outline of a proud jaw set in defiance.

Captain Archibald ushered us in, then closed the gate behind. The clang echoed down the corridor. I took a shallow breath, feeling the weight of my sword at my side and Alexander’s steady presence at my back.

"Your Highnesses," the captain said, bowing slightly. "They have been informed of your arrival."

I gave a curt nod. "Thank you." He and his guards melted into the shadows beyond the cell doors.

Alexander and I stood facing the three ministers first. I steeled myself, recalling every slight, every piece of stolen evidence. Even in captivity, their demeanor was haughty.

"Minister Hadrian," I began, voice echoing slightly, "you will speak. You know why you were brought here."

He glanced up, expression unreadable. "I know nothing," he said, voice steady. "Your Highness, you have already made your judgment."

I closed my eyes against frustration. "This is not judgment. This is inquiry."

He leaned forward, eyes glinting. "An inquiry conducted behind iron bars? You’d best have evidence you can present to your court, prince, or this farce will look cruel rather than just."

Alexander stepped forward. "We have the evidence," he said. "Correspondence, ledgers, witness testimony. We only need your admission."

Hadrian shook his head, lips curving in icy mockery. "I will confess nothing."

I turned to Torric’s cell. "Lord Torric—"

He raised a hand, scowling. "Save your breath. You’ve shown your hand. I served the crown for thirty years. I will not grovel in a dungeon."

I squared my shoulders. "You conspired against the crown."

He spat again. "You have no proof you can present. You think this is over? You’ve only begun."

Before I could respond, I turned to Elowen.

"Countess, you remain silent as well."

She stood, smoothing her gown. "I decline to participate in this spectacle. If the crown wishes to prosecute, let it bring me before a proper tribunal."

Alexander’s jaw clenched. "This *is* a proper tribunal."

She shook her head. "A prince and his consort behind bars do not a tribunal make."

At that, Alexander’s hand dropped from my back as though his patience snapped. He squared off in front of her cell. "Countess, the evidence will speak for itself. You will have your day in court."

She smiled, but her eyes were cold. "I look forward to it. Until then—"

A soft rattling sound drew my attention. The Aradeth envoy stood. His hood was removed by the guards, revealing a dark-skinned man with proud features and a slender scar across his cheek. His voice came low and accented. "I will not speak here."

Alexander frowned. "You will answer to your crimes, envoy."

He chuckled softly. "You have no right to try me, Avalorian prince. You are a foreigner in our land."

I held Alexander’s gaze. "Not here," I said quietly. "But soon, at the Royal Forum."

The envoy’s lips curled. "We shall see."

---

We stood in heavy silence for a moment. I felt the guards’ stares at my back, as though even they questioned this eerie scene: three ministers and an envoy, each defiant behind iron bars while the princes tried to coax the truth. I stepped forward, heart pounding.

"Minister Hadrian," I said, "will you tell us why you instructed the envoy to ignore Avaloria’s sanctions?"

He shook his head. "Because those sanctions starved our northern towns. My conscience does not trouble me."

My throat clenched. "You privileged profit over your people."

He laughed, but hollowly. "Avaloria’s ’people’ are just words in your fancy speeches."

Anger flared, but I kept my tone measured. "And you, Lord Torric—why did you erase proposals that would have improved food distribution to border provinces?"

He spat, face twisted. "Because they would have empowered the commoners beyond my king’s design."

The word *commoners* pricked me. "You saw it as a threat."

"A threat to tradition," he replied. "Not every change is for the better."

Elowen watched impassively. I turned to her. "And what of you, Countess? Your letters promised merchants preferential contracts if they ignored council directives."

Her lips tightened. "I use whatever means available to me. If that’s treason, so be it."

That word "treason" hung in the stale air, thick as fog. Each of them eyed us with contempt, daring us to proceed. I suppressed a shudder. The next question—a simple "Why?"—hung on my lips, but before I could speak it, I saw Alexander shift uneasily at my side.

"Lucien," he said softly, "we’ve given them enough opportunity."

I nodded, my own resolve tempered by his caution. "You’re right."

I turned to the guards. "Prepare to transfer them to the interrogation cells. We will arrange a formal trial tomorrow."

The guards unlocked the cells with mechanical precision and led the prisoners away with rough grips. I felt a wave of relief mixed with lingering unease. We had extracted their defiance, heard their justifications. But they had said nothing I could use: no names beyond their own, no admissions. Our evidence remained strong on paper, but without confession or witness testimony from within their circle, we risked a trial that could crumble under their cunning lawyers’ attacks.

And then something happened that none of us expected.

As the last guard passed through the cell door, Torric, with surprising speed, lunged forward and grabbed the front of my coat. The sudden contact jolted me, dagger clinking in its sheath at my belt.

His eyes blazed with fury. "Do you think this is your triumph?" he hissed, voice low but venomous. His fingers dug into the fabric of my coat. "This is only the beginning."

He drew in a breath, his lips brushing my ear. "You have no idea what’s coming. Your kingdom will crumble. And when it does, you will realize how small and insignificant you are."

His grip tightened. For a moment, I was stunned—shocked by the raw threat and the proximity of his face. Guards whirled at the sound, hands on their weapons, but Alexander stepped forward first, placing a firm hand on Torric’s shoulder.

"Enough," Alexander said, voice icy. "Let the prince go."

Torric’s eyes snapped to Alexander, then flicked back to me. He released me with a shove that sent me stumbling forward. I caught myself on the cell’s bars, heart racing, veins alive with adrenaline.

Alexander advanced. "You will address all your statements to the court tomorrow."

Torric hissed as he was wrestled away. "I’ll see you both torn down—mark my words!"

The cell door slammed behind him. The corridor fell silent except for the clank of the bolt.

Alexander stood close, hand still on my shoulder. His gaze searched mine, concern etched in every line. "Lucien—"

I pressed my lips together and shook my head, refusing to let anger or fear show. "It’s fine."

He squeezed my shoulder, then guided me away. "We should leave before they say more."

I nodded. The echoes of Torric’s threat reverberated behind us: *This is just the beginning.* The words slithered through my mind, unsettling me. I relied on evidence, maps, testimony—yet these men spoke of greater schemes, shadows beyond what I knew.

Alexander guided me through the winding pathways of the dungeons back into the courtyard where dawn light filtered weakly through iron bars. The tunnels opened into the grand walkway once more.

As we emerged, the garden’s roses glowed wet with dew. Guards parted respectfully, offering bows and curtseyed respect. I felt their eyes on me—newly sympathetic yet wary. Word of the threats would spread quickly; my vulnerability had briefly been laid bare.

Alexander offered his arm. I took it, hands trembling ever so slightly.

"Come," he said softly. "Let’s get some fresh air."

I allowed him to lead me out of the palace, across the marble courtyard, through the ornate gates into the early morning bustle of Valtoria’s streets. Carriages rolled by, merchants set up their stalls, and citizens paused in respectful silence as we passed—some with curious, hopeful expressions.

We reached the royal gardens, where fountains splashed amid manicured lawns, and classical statues gazed impassively at the world. We sat on a marble bench beneath the blooming magnolias, the world waking around us.

"I’m sorry," Alexander said, voice gentle but firm. "I should have insisted we let them speak."

I shook my head. "They only revealed their contempt. No names beyond themselves. But Torric..." My voice faltered. "His threat. This is bigger."

Alexander took my hand, cradling it in his own. "We will face it. Together."

I rested my head on his shoulder, letting the morning air wash the dungeon’s chill from my bones. "Tomorrow, the trial. The truth will come out."

He kissed the top of my head. "Yes. Tomorrow."

For a moment, all was still: princes in a quiet garden, the weight of crowns finally lifted by the promise of shared strength.

But in the marrow of my bones, I felt the echo of Torric’s words. This is just the beginning and I knew the fight was far from over.