enjoyebooks CHAPTER 75
CHAPTER 75
POV: Maximilian
I notice the silence first.
It follows me like a shadow as I leave the council chamber, thicker than usual, heavier. Guards stand too straight. Servants avert their eyes with a speed that feels rehearsed. The palace has learned a new secret, and it is holding its breath.
I walk faster.
The corridors blur as I take the familiar route toward the old wing, my mind already counting excuses, contingencies, lies. I will see her tonight, I tell myself. I will tell her the delay is temporary. I will bring more books. I will—
Footsteps echo behind me.
Not one set. Several.
I do not turn. I know better. Kings are followed for many reasons, and curiosity is the least of them.
The stairwell leading to the tower looms ahead, its stone mouth dark and waiting. I reach it just as a voice cuts through the air.
“Stop.”
I freeze.
It is my father’s voice.
He has not been king for weeks, but the authority in his tone has not diminished. If anything, it has sharpened, honed by resentment and fear. I turn slowly.
He stands at the far end of the corridor, flanked by guards. Their hands rest on their sword hilts. Not drawn. Not yet.
“Father,” I say, keeping my voice even.
His gaze flicks past me, toward the stairwell. Toward the tower. Understanding dawns in his eyes with brutal clarity.
“So,” he says quietly. “It’s true.”
My chest tightens. “What is?”
“That you’ve been sneaking out like a guilty child,” he replies. “That you’ve been defying the council. That you’ve been lying to your king.”
“I am the king,” I snap.
He laughs once, sharp and humorless. “A title does not erase responsibility.”
I take a step toward him. “You have no right to follow me.”
“I have every right,” he says, advancing as well. “Because what you are hiding threatens everything I built.”
The guards move with him, boots striking stone in perfect unison. I feel suddenly, acutely, how alone I am in this corridor.
“You know,” I say. “You’ve always known.”
His jaw tightens. “I suspected.”
“Then you let them bury her alive,” I say, my voice shaking despite my effort to control it.
He stops a few paces away. The space between us feels charged, brittle.
“She is alive,” he says flatly. It is not a question.
“Yes,” I answer. “And she has suffered every day because of you.”
Something flickers across his face—regret, perhaps, or something like it. It vanishes quickly.
“You disobeyed me,” he says. “You disobeyed the council. You endangered the realm.”
“I protected my sister.”
“You endangered the crown,” he repeats.
The words land with crushing force.
“I am the crown,” I say.
He steps closer, his voice dropping. “No. You wear it. And it can be taken.”
The threat hangs between us, raw and unmistakable.
I glance toward the stairwell again, toward the iron door hidden beyond it. Toward Celeste, waiting in the dark, believing in me.
“You followed me,” I say. “So what now? You arrest me?”
His expression hardens. “I stop this.”
Before I can react, he lifts a hand.
“Go,” he orders the guards.
They surge forward.
I move instinctively, stepping into their path. “No.”
A hand grips my shoulder, wrenching me backward. Another guard blocks the stairwell, his sword half drawn.
“Get your hands off me!” I shout, fury exploding through me. “I am your king!”
The guards hesitate—just for a heartbeat.
It is enough.
My father strikes me.
The blow is swift and brutal, his fist connecting with my jaw hard enough to snap my head sideways. Stars burst behind my eyes. I stagger, barely catching myself before I fall.
The corridor spins.
“Enough,” he snarls. “You will listen to me.”
I taste blood.
“You’ve been visiting her,” he continues, advancing on me. “Feeding her hope. Letting her believe she still has a place in this world.”
“She does,” I choke.
He grabs the front of my tunic and slams me back against the wall. Stone bites into my spine.
“Look at me,” he demands.
I force my gaze up to his.
“She is not a girl anymore,” he says. “She is a risk. Every report confirms it. The wards strain. The magic grows darker. Stronger.”
“That’s because you locked her away,” I spit.
“And if we hadn’t?” he counters. “The first time she lost control, she nearly killed a servant. The next time, it could be a noble. A child. A city.”
“She didn’t mean—”
“Intent does not matter,” he snaps. “Outcome does.”
He releases me abruptly, stepping back as if touching me disgusts him.
“You think yourself merciful,” he continues. “But mercy without wisdom is cruelty to millions.”
The guards tighten their formation. I feel the trap closing.
“You followed me here,” I say slowly. “Because you want her gone.”
His silence is answer enough.
“What are you planning?” I demand.
He exhales through his nose. “I am ending this.”
“No,” I say. “You won’t touch her.”
“You no longer have a say,” he replies.
Something inside me breaks.
I surge forward, shoving past the guards with a strength born of panic and rage. For a moment, it works. I make it three steps toward the stairwell before hands seize me from behind, dragging me back.
“Celeste!” I shout, my voice echoing wildly. “Celeste!”
The sound ricochets down the stone corridor.
The tower does not answer.
My father steps in front of me, his face a mask of cold resolve.
“This ends tonight,” he says.
“You can’t,” I gasp, struggling against the guards. “You’ll destroy her.”
“You already have,” he replies.
I go still.
He studies me then, really looks at me, and something like sorrow flickers in his eyes. He straightens, squaring his shoulders.
“I gave you time,” he says. “I allowed your sentiment. I hoped you would outgrow it.”
“I will never outgrow loving my sister,” I snarl.
“Then you will choose,” he says.
The words land like a blade.
“Choose,” he repeats, louder this time. “Here. Now.”
The guards release me just enough for me to stand on my own. My legs tremble, but I remain upright, staring at the man who raised me.
“You will either be King of Astoria,” he says, “or you will be her brother.”
My breath catches painfully in my chest.
“If you choose the crown,” he continues, “you will cease all contact. You will never go near that tower again. You will let the council do what must be done.”
“And if I don’t?” I whisper.
He meets my gaze without flinching.
“If you choose her,” he says, “you renounce your claim. The council will fracture. The nobles will revolt. Civil war will follow.”
The corridor seems to tilt.
“You’re forcing me,” I say hoarsely.
“I am giving you clarity,” he replies.
My mind races, images crashing into each other—Celeste’s face in lantern light, thin and hopeful. The banners in the great hall. The cheers of the people. The maps of a kingdom balanced on the edge of unrest.
“You don’t have to do this,” I plead. “There is another way.”
He shakes his head once. “This is the way.”
Silence swells around us, thick and suffocating.
The guards watch me carefully. The palace waits.
My father steps back, folding his arms.
“Decide,” he says.