Prince of Lies [COMPLETED]

Chapter 55

Heavy boot steps filled the corridor, and Frederick braced himself. He didn't know how long he'd been in that cell-hours, perhaps days-but the number of soldiers that swarmed the place could only mean they were coming for him.

"This is his cell, Your Majesty."

"Get him out," Bront's voice commanded.

After a jangle of keys and the sliding of the metal, Frederick lifted his head, finding Bront standing before him. His brother looked clean and refreshed despite the heaviness in his gaze.

"You're free to leave," Bront said. "You have been pardoned for any and every war crime and conspiracy. You are to take your rightful seat in the House of the Moon, effective immediately. No privileges will be taken from you, and no harm shall befall you. Now get out of here and put your damned house in order."

Frederick shook as he ascended from the ground, shocked by the news of such a generous pardon. After all that had happened and all that he'd done, Bront ... was letting him go? "My father?"

"Will stand trial," Bront said simply. "He is not free to leave. Do not speak of him to me. Not now." Not ever.

"Where is Arabella?"

Bront raised his brow. "Not in a cell, if that's what you think. She is a victim in all of this. You don't think I'd punish her, do you?"

Frederick struggled for patience. "Then where is she?"

"She is resting in your chambers here in the castle. I have offered her my protection for as long as she wants it. Any act against her is an act against Thescan." Bront lowered his voice. "I warn you to approach her with caution. She's been through enough."

The trembling in Frederick's body worsened. "Bront, I-" His words died. He didn't know what to say. Had nothing he could say that would matter. Nothing to fix everything he'd destroyed.

"Go," Bront finished. "You've said it already. Don't say it again."

Frederick could hardly stop himself, tensing for an arm to grab him but no one did. He raced through the dungeons, hurried through the castle, then found the hallways that led to the royal quarters. His heart pulsed with the force of cannon blasts. He would be sick with relief later-once he saw her with his own eyes. Saw that she was all right.

Safe now. Forever.

His eyes were already wet before he reached her, and he lunged through his bedroom door and found her there, sitting by the window. "Ara ..."

She did not look at him, her profile highlighted by the gentle glow of daylight. Human now and she looked it. He didn't think he would ever be used to it. "So you're all right, then. Bront did promise you would be."

It took all his self-control to cross the room at an appropriate pace lest he spook her with his emotions. "Of course," he whispered, lowering onto his haunches at her side. "What can I get you?"

"Nothing at all," she said. "It's all been done. They've fussed so much that I won't be able to stand a second more of it. See to yourself. You've been in that dungeon for over a day."

"Ara, I'm-"

"Don't," she said with a wince. "There's nothing you can say that won't insult me."

But he couldn't control it, hot tears filling his eyes, blurring his much-needed view of her until he blinked and let them shed. Because it was different now and he understood that. It had to be. No life and death to draw hasty declarations of love, just the choices they'd made and had to live with now. "It's all my fault. All of this is my fault. I hurt you, and I'll never be able to take it back."