For a moment, Tristan simply stared at the guards standing in the doorway of his bedroom.
His mind, still half-fogged with interrupted pleasure and sudden adrenaline, refused to accept the words he had just heard. Treason? Arrest? Guilty?
Since he became the crown prince, he had been on the other side of those words. He would even be the one to use those words on erring people.
He forced himself to breathe and thought smartly;
There had to be a mistake. And it wasn’t a problem, as long as it was a mistake. He had handled far more complicated political traps than this. Whatever evidence they claimed to have, he would dismantle it the same way he dismantled every scheme that had ever been thrown at him in court.
He kept his voice steady, not trembling or breaking, even though he was still kneeling naked on the bed with his cock glistening, although no longer hard.
"Give me a moment of privacy to get dressed." he requested.
The lead guard actually looked apologetic but he still stood on the orders he was given; "I’m sorry, Your Highness. We have orders not to leave you unsupervised."
Tristan’s jaw tightened. He gave a short, irritated nod, then reached down and grabbed his discarded trousers from the floor. With as much dignity as the situation allowed, he turned slightly, shielded himself with one hand, and pulled the trousers up over his hips. He left the shirt where it was.
Hailey remained on the bed, the duvet clutched tightly around her naked body now as Tristan stood up, her face was carefully blank.
The guards stepped forward, with Tristan in the front.
And behind him, Hailey heaved a sigh of relief when he walked out.
~~~~~~~~~
The royal court had never felt so silent.
Tristan stood in the exact center of the vast hall, the same place where, three years earlier, the silver circlet of the Crown Prince had been placed on his head amid loud cheers. Today there was no cheering. Only heavy silence and the weight of hundreds of staring eyes.
His father sat on the throne like a man already halfway to the grave. King Elijah’s skin was the color of old parchment. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Every breath sounded wet and labored.
The king had been sick for a month, with specialists from different places, as the economy of the underdeveloped country allowed them, coming to treat him yet his condition kept getting worse.
To the king’s right stood Queen Dahlia, her expression was arranged in perfect sorrow. Beside her stood Prince Marcelo, Tristan’s older half-brother, whose eyes kept drifting toward the throne with poorly exaggerated concern for the king.
King Elijah fixed his bloodshot gaze on Tristan.
"I never wanted you as my heir," the old man began, his voice weak but venomous.
"Your mother’s family forced my hand. They helped put this crown on my head, and in return they demanded their blood sit on the throne after me, even though I already had a son. Even though I never wanted another wife. I made you Crown Prince against my will. And this is how you repay me? By using dark magic to drain the life from my body slowly?" he paused for a wet cough. Then continued;
"How could you be this cruel just because you want to sit on the throne so fast?"
A murmur ran through the court.
Tristan blinked at the accusation but still he kept his posture straight. He was no stranger to political scheming so he believed he could handle this. He told himself that whoever was behind this was just being stupid.
"Father, If I am accused of using dark magic, then I ask the court for the most basic requirement of justice. Who saw me perform it? Where is the evidence?" he requested simply.
As if on cue, the doors at the side of the hall opened and Hailey walked in.
She had dressed quickly. Her hair was still slightly messy from his hands. She walked up and stood besides Tristan. Then she glanced briefly at him and faced front.
Tristan blinked. He didn’t understand that expression he was seeing on her face, or rather he didn’t want to believe it. Because not understanding would be an insult to his intelligence.
In her trembling fingers she held three small talismans made of blackened bone and twisted string. Tears were already welling up in her eyes as she lifted them high for everyone to see.
"I found more of these under his bed, Your Majesty," she said, her voice breaking at just the right places. "For seven nights before he went on that trip, I watched him. He locked the door and refused to let me sleep in the master bedroom. He told me he was working for the kingdom. I wanted to believe him..."
She drew a shaky breath. Tristan’s mouth fell open as he stared at her.
"But I saw him. He sat on the floor with these cursed things, whispering your name, cursing your blood, praying for your death. I stayed silent because he is my husband. But now that you are so ill... I could not remain quiet any longer."
Tristan couldn’t close his mouth even though he was aware it was hanging open, as his thoughts spun.
That was the same woman whose thighs had been wrapped around his head less than an hour ago. The same woman he had been buried inside when the doors slammed open. The same wife whose moans still lingered in his ears... That was the same woman who had reported him before he returned from his trip, gave evidence then brought more evidence.
She would not meet his eyes.
"Hailey?" Tristan mumbled in disbelief as something cold and sharp settled in his chest. The betrayal was no longer a possibility.
It was standing right in front of him, holding false evidence with trembling hands and carefully timed tears.
However, he decided this wasn’t the time to hold his wife and asked her why, he swallowed hard then tore his eyes from her and looked at his father;
"Father," Tristan said, and this time his voice was quieter, rougher. "I have never once wished for your death. Those talismans were fabricated. If you would only give me a day, just a day to investigate..." he was cut short by his father.
"No. I’m done tolerating you. I’m done tolerating your mother’s powerful family. I know they’re in this with you. And this is the highest treason anybody can commit."
"Hear my judgement, everybody present!"
At that point, everybody braced themselves for what was about to drop.
Hailey bowed her head, still sobbing bitterly.
"Crown prince Tristan has been dethroned. And he shall be beheaded for his crime. Anybody that wants to be associated with him, defend him shall be beheaded too. Nobody is excluded."
"Fa- father..." Tristan’s voice shook. His lips trembled but the king didn’t spare him a glance. He continued;
"That’s my judgment as the absolute leader of this country. Let it be known." The king gritted, obviously throwing shade at Tristan’s mother’s family. None of them was in the court room but the king knew they had eyes and ears around.
He knew they would already be on their way to the palace now, probably loading their luxury cars in a convoy. He decided he wouldn’t allow them to change his ruling today.
"Behead him within the next five minutes."
"F-father, please hear me out first. A good ruler is one who..." Tristan tried but before he could even try to smooth talk, something happened...
King Elijah’s body suddenly seized.
A thick spray of dark blood erupted from his mouth and splattered across the white tiled steps. Several officials cried out. Two royal doctors rushed forward, but the king shoved them away with surprising strength.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, leaving a long red smear, and looked at Tristan one final time.
There was no hesitation left in his eyes.
Only disgust.
"Take him out of my sight," he muttered.
The king rose unsteadily from the throne. For a moment he swayed, and Tristan thought he might collapse. Instead, he turned his back on his son and began walking toward the private doors behind the throne.
Queen Dahlia shot him a quiet look, shook her head in disapproval then quietly followed the king.
Marcelo straightened his shoulders, standing tall and confident in a way he had never done before then gestured at the guards.
Guards moved in from both sides and rough hands closed around Tristan’s arms. He did not struggle. He only turned his head once and looked at the woman who still stood where he had left her, the false talismans dangling from her fingers.
Hailey met his eyes for the briefest second. There was no guilt in her gaze. Only relief and happiness...
’Since when had she been planning this? And with who?’ Those questions didn’t really take long for Tristan to find answers to.
His marriage with Hailey five months ago was arranged by his stepmother when the court kept asking him for a crown princess and he had been too picky to find a suitable wife among those elegant ladies that threw his bodies at him. They were only for pleasure when he needed to release.
But when Hailey was introduced to him, it had been admiration at first sight. Majorly because he had never seen her which meant she was decent enough - all the young ladies in the small country wanted him and were always around where he could see them and use them. And she possessed everything he wanted in a woman.
Tristan had always known his stepmother would want his position for her son if she had her ways but he had believed she would never have her way because his mother’s family were powerful enough to ensure that.
As the guards dragged the Crown Prince of the kingdom from the hall like a common traitor, Tristan Ashby realized that he had underestimated his stepmother... He really had and he regretted it.
His jaw tightened and he made himself a single, quiet promise;
If there was any justice left in this world or the next... he would not forget this day.
And he would not forgive it.