C15 The Deepened Interrogation

Adrian stood frozen. The words echoed something Athalia had once told him. Power turns people into monsters.

"No," he said suddenly. "We shouldn't rush to conclusions. He's under hypnosis — that doesn't make everything he says true. What if he's been manipulated? What if this is meant to frame her?"

Lysander shook his head. "Hypnosis doesn't create lies. It brings back memories. A hypnotized mind remembers what it can't recall while conscious."

The queen stepped forward, voice trembling. "Then — my son?"

"It would explain the memory loss."

Adrian exhaled slowly. "So Fredric was controlled."

"Most likely. And once exposed to the scent, the subject can be influenced again and again."

Uneasy murmurs filled the hall. Lysander turned back to Talen. "What did you do?"

"I followed orders. I sprayed it on him. Then I left."

Athalia, standing nearby, allowed herself the faintest smile.

Adrian looked shaken.

"This is wrong," Fredric said, voice rising. "Arianna would never—"

"Prince Fredric. Another outburst and you'll be removed."

Fredric went silent, jaw tight.

The investigation moved fast after that. Lysander and the advisor headed for Princess Arianna's chambers, guards ahead of them pushing doors open, searching every corner.

Arianna stood near her window, lost in her own thoughts, when the doors opened behind her.

She turned, startled.

"Princess Arianna," the advisor said, even. "We need to search your chambers for anything connected to the attack."

Her heart dropped. "The attack? I had nothing to do with it."

"We'll determine that," Lysander said. "Please allow us to proceed."

They searched. And then — they found it.

The scent, faint but unmistakable, clinging to her cloak, her ribbons. Invisible to most. Undeniable to anyone who knew what they were smelling.

Arianna's breath caught. "Princess Arianna," the advisor said, "you'll come with us."

When she entered the council hall, every eye turned to her. Whispers rose like weather — shock, disappointment, disbelief.

The advisor raised his hand, and silence fell.

"Proceed, Lysander."

He stepped forward, holding up a small vial recovered from her chambers. "Princess Arianna. Guard Talen claims you gave him this fragrance and instructed him to influence the prince."

Her eyes went wide. "No. That's not true — I would never—"

"The scent was found on the rope, the arrow, and your belongings," Lysander said. "The evidence suggests otherwise."

"I don't know anything about this! Someone is framing me. I swear it."

"Then explain why it was found in your room," the advisor said, hard now.

"I can't," she whispered, voice breaking.

From the side of the hall, Athalia watched. A faint, satisfied smile crossed her face as the room closed in around Arianna — heavy with doubt, suspicion, fear.

"Tell them the truth, Talen!" Arianna turned, desperate. "It wasn't me. Someone else must have—"

But her voice faltered. No one was listening anymore.

"Tell them!" Arianna's voice broke. "Tell them if someone forced you — if someone put you up to this!"

Lysander's face hardened, just slightly. "That will be enough for now. The council will review the evidence in full. Princess Arianna, you'll remain under confinement until this matter is resolved."

The words landed like iron.

Fear and frustration coiled tight in Arianna's chest — invisible chains, suffocating, inescapable.

Across the hall, Athalia stood calm, almost sympathetic on the surface. Underneath, satisfaction. Everything was unfolding exactly as she'd built it to.

An innocent princess, surrounded now by doubt, standing on the edge of ruin — trapped by whispers, evidence, and carefully placed lies that weren't hers to defend against.

As the guards led Arianna away, the heavy doors closed with a dull echo. Lysander returned to his desk and picked up the small vial again, turning it slowly between his fingers.

"I must be certain," he murmured. "I care for them both. But the evidence—"

He didn't finish. He didn't need to.

Behind him, Athalia stood.

The council chamber stayed tense, suffocatingly quiet. The queen sat beside the king's empty throne, grief barely held in check. Athalia stood just behind her, a silent shadow of support.

Not far off, Fredric sat on the cold stone floor. Arianna's accusation had taken whatever strength he had left. He stayed there, pale and shaken, while disappointment rippled through the hall around him.

The Chief Advisor raised his hand. "Lysander. Continue. Ask the remaining questions."

Lysander turned to Talen. "Did you attack the King?"

"No."

"And did you kill the eyewitness?"

Silence, heavy, waiting.

"...Yes."

The hall erupted — voices clashing, chairs scraping, accusations flying like sparks off dry wood.

"Silence!" the advisor thundered, and the noise died back, reluctantly.

"Again," he said. "Did you kill the eyewitness — and Lena, the queen's maid?"

Talen didn't hesitate this time. "Yes."

A sharp breath escaped the queen.

"How?" the advisor demanded.

"From the tower," Talen said. "The west wing."

The queen crossed the room before anyone could stop her and struck him across the face.

"How dare you!" Her voice shook with grief. "Lena was loyal. Faithful. She loved you as her son. How could you take her life so easily? Don't you have a heart?"

Athalia moved quickly to her side, a steadying hand on her arm. "Your Majesty. Please."

The advisor straightened. "If he confesses to these murders, he must face judgment."

"I agree," Lysander said. "Though he acted under influence. His will wasn't his own. Still — justice must be served."

A minister rose. "Yet we're no closer to the truth. The King was still attacked. The people demand answers."

"The only one who can explain is the man who stood beside His Majesty," another added.

All eyes turned.

"Then we question Prince Fredric," the advisor said.

"I would never harm my father," Fredric said, voice hoarse but firm. "I love him."

"Yet you deny everything," a minister snapped. "You claim no memory. That isn't acceptable."

"Force the truth from him."

"Hypnotize him, if we have to."

The whispers grew louder. "Make him speak."

"Bring him forward," the advisor ordered.

Two guards seized Fredric.

"No — please!" He struggled weakly. "I swear I didn't do it. I didn't hurt him."

They dragged him to the center. "I didn't hurt Father. You have to believe me."

"Fredric." Adrian stepped forward, trying to steady the chaos rising around them.

Fredric looked up, desperate. "Brother. Listen to me."

His voice shook, but the words didn't. "If someone ordered Talen to kill, to use that fragrance on me — then I would've needed an order too. I wouldn't have acted alone." His breath caught. "But Talen admitted he left. He wasn't there."

He lifted his head. "So who gave me the order?"