Chapter 19: He Stole Nothing From Me

"I’d really like to know," Darius said calmly, his voice carrying through the entire hall, "which one of you idiots just called my brother an impostor, and which one suggested exiling him?"

The entire chamber plunged into an instantly suffocating silence. The councilors who had been arguing only moments ago now stared at the young man standing in the doorway. Several of them looked genuinely stunned, their mouths half-open, while others appeared deeply uncomfortable under his harsh scrutiny. One or two seemed visibly offended by the fact that he had just openly called them idiots to their faces.

King William rose from his seat, his spine straightening on instinct.

"Darius. What are you doing here? Do you need something?"

Darius didn’t even look at him.

"I said," he repeated, each word measured as he took a heavy step forward into the room, "which one among you called Prince Basil an impostor? And which one of you suggested he be exiled?"

His eyes swept across the circular table, but nobody answered. The silence only seemed to grow heavier. Near the entrance, the guard who had escorted him stood rigid, cold sweat trickling down his back. Regret tightened the knot forming in his stomach. This was not what he had imagined would happen when he agreed to bring the prince here. He had assumed Darius would politely ask a question, perhaps wait outside until the meeting ended.

Instead, the prince had marched into a Crown Council session and immediately started a confrontation. The guard stared at the prince’s back in growing horror.

The new prince was insane.

There was simply no other explanation.

"Darius," the king said again, gentler now as he stepped around the table. "Calm down. Nobody is going to exile Basil. Nor is he—"

"Dear Father the King," Darius interrupted.

The title sounded strangely respectful and deeply insulting at the same time.

"Do you know what I hate most? Being treated like a child who needs to be soothed. I’m not a child, and I know what I heard. I clearly heard someone in this room call Basil an impostor. I heard someone suggest he be exiled. And you..." His eyes finally landed on the king. "...you did not stop them. You just sat there and listened."

William blinked.

Darius took a step toward the king.

"How could you, a king who’s supposed to be protecting your son, just sit there and listen to them insult said son and do nothing? You’re the king, damn it. Start acting like one. If you don’t like what you’re hearing, punish whoever said it, unless you agree with them."

His voice dropped, quieter and colder.

"Do you agree with them, Father the King?"

One of the councilors, a broad man with a graying beard, slammed his palm against the table. "Outrageous!" he shouted. "How dare you speak to His Majesty like that! Even if you are the real prince, you should show respect and conduct yourself with dignity. You should not address the King in such a manner!"

Darius slowly turned toward him and smiled.

The councilor instantly faltered, his words dying in his throat. The prince was clearly smiling, but his blue eyes remained entirely dead, radiating a predatory stillness that made the noble’s skin crawl.

"How dare you," Darius said pleasantly, "interrupt a prince while he’s speaking to his father the King. Who the hell are you to interrupt royalty?"

The councilor swallowed hard, his face turning pale as he looked around the table for support, but nobody dared to speak.

"Sit the fuck back down," Darius commanded, his smile widening slightly, "that is, if you do not want me to come over there and make you sit."

Several councilors shifted uncomfortably in their seats, sliding their eyes away. The loud noble slowly and reluctantly lowered himself back into his chair, his pride entirely shattered.

The king watched his son with something he couldn’t quite name.

Jane had told him, after Basil first spoke of leaving, that Darius became someone else entirely, dangerously different. She had even suggested taking him to a psychiatrist. He hadn’t fully believed her, thinking she was exaggerating.

Seeing it now, he found, to his own quiet surprise, that some small and shameful part of him didn’t mind it. He’d wanted to say these very things to these very men more times than he could count. But a king could not shout at his council like a man in a tavern brawl. A king had to hold the realm together with patience, even when patience tasted like ash.

Apparently, Darius had no such limitations. ℴ

He turned his gaze back to his father. "So, are you in agreement that Basil is an impostor and deserves to be chased out of this kingdom?"

"Of course not," the king said without hesitation. "Basil will always be my son. He is going nowhere." Several of the councilors frowned at the declaration, clearly displeased by the King’s stubbornness, but they kept their mouths shut.

Darius nodded, his smile returning, pleasant and genuine. "Good. I am glad to hear that. Now, who among you thinks otherwise?"

The councilors looked at one another, no one wanting to be the first to volunteer himself.

Finally, one man cleared his throat and spoke carefully. "Your Highness, we are only looking out for the crown’s interests. If Basil were to—"

"Prince Basil," Darius cut him off instantly, his tone flat. "Add his title whenever you speak of him. He is still your prince. That will never change."

The lord choked on his breath, his posture stiffening. "Yes, Your Highness. As I was saying... if Prince Basil stays in the palace, his presence might pose a direct danger to your ascension to the throne."

"From your voice, you’re the one who called him an impostor," Darius remarked, his eyes locking onto the man. The man’s face went pale.

"That’s because he stole—"

"He stole nothing from me," Darius snapped, cutting him off before the word could fully leave his mouth. "How can a newborn baby steal anything from anybody? Has a single one of you tried to imagine what he’s feeling right now? Finding out the people he thought were his parents are not really his? That the whole life he thought belonged to him was never really his to begin with?"

The councilors shifted, several suddenly finding the grain of the table very interesting.

The king looked at his son with something close to pride swelling painfully in his chest. If only he had the freedom to speak to these heartless men with the same brutal honesty.

"Of course none of you will understand," Darius continued, his gaze sweeping over them. "Because you are all a bunch of hypocrites who will lick the asses of whoever happens to hold the most power. I bet your tones would change just as fast if, by some miracle, it turned out there had been a mistake and Basil was actually the real prince."

A few faces darkened with embarrassment.

Darius didn’t care. "Prince Basil is hurting right now. His entire world has been ripped apart. Yet instead of showing compassion, you’re sitting here discussing punishment, exile, and succession like he’s some problem to solve."

His gaze hardened. "Let me make something perfectly clear. Prince Basil is, and will forever remain, a prince of this kingdom. Anybody who thinks otherwise will have me to deal with."

The room somehow grew colder. "And trust me," Darius said with a smile, "you do not want that."

"Your Highness," another councilor tried, his voice pitched low and careful, "surely you understand our concerns. We are looking out for you. We merely wish to preserve the stability of the kingdom."

"I don’t fucking care about the stability of this kingdom," Darius snapped. "Do I look stable enough to care about any of that?"

The councilors exchanged bewildered glances.

What was that supposed to mean?

Was the prince openly admitting there was something wrong with him?

William frowned.

Never mind. He took back every thought he’d had earlier. Jane might actually be right.

Their son needed professional help.

Darius straightened and tugged at his sleeve.

"Now, I’d appreciate it if you all left this room. I want a word alone with my father. This meeting is adjourned." Nobody moved.

The councilors glanced toward the king, waiting for him to countermand the order. Darius sighed.

Then he moved. One moment he was standing near the center of the room. The next, he was beside the guard. Before the man could even comprehend what was happening, Darius reached out and snatched the pistol from his holster. He leveled it lazily toward the table.

"I said get out," he said pleasantly, "before I start blowing heads off."