Chapter 136: This Servant Is Lying! He’s Been Bribed...
The guard returned, and with him came a man that most of the room did not recognize.
He was thin, nondescript, the kind of servant who was visible everywhere and noticed nowhere. He was perhaps thirty years old, with the bearing of someone who had spent his entire life in service, who understood his place in the hierarchy, who was not accustomed to being in positions of prominence.
He looked terrified.
His hands were shaking. His eyes darted around the room, taking in the hundreds of faces staring at him, the kings on their thrones, the council members leaning forward with intense curiosity.
Thorne gestured for him to approach.
The man did so slowly, as if moving through water.
When he reached the center of the chamber, he seemed to shrink further into himself, as if trying to become invisible.
Thorne’s voice was calm, steady, designed to give the man courage.
"State your name," Thorne said.
"P-Petyr, Your Majesty," the man said, his voice barely audible. He was forced to clear his throat and try again. "Petyr. I... I’m a servant. I tend to the fires in the noble quarters. I clean the chambers. I attend to household matters."
"And were you working four days ago?" Thorne asked.
"Yes, Your Majesty. I was cleaning and tending fires as always."
"Tell the court what you witnessed on that day," Thorne said.
Petyr’s gaze flickered toward Isolde.
And when his eyes landed on the noblewoman, his fear seemed to intensify.
He swallowed hard.
But he continued.
"I was tending the fire in Lady Margot’s chamber," Petyr said, his voice shaking. "It was afternoon. Lady Margot was at tea, as she is every day at that hour. I was alone in the chamber."
He paused, gathering courage.
"Lady Isolde entered," he said. "She... she didn’t seem to expect anyone to be there. When she saw me, she seemed startled. But she recovered quickly and told me I should leave. She said she had a private matter to discuss with Lady Margot."
The room was absolutely silent.
"Did you leave?" Thorne asked.
"I did. But I didn’t go far. I was curious, and I thought... I thought I should make sure nothing was taken, because..." Petyr trailed off, clearly afraid of offending the kings by suggesting a noble might steal.
"Because you suspected foul play?" Thorne supplied.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"What did you see when you looked back?"
Petyr’s hands trembled.
"Lady Isolde was holding something. Something small. She was looking at it, turning it over in her hands. It was shining in the light. When she saw me looking, she quickly tucked it into her pocket and left the chamber."
Isolde stood abruptly.
"This is absurd!" she cried. "This servant is lying! He’s been bribed or threatened...."
"By whom?" Thorne’s voice cut through her objection like ice. "By me? Are you suggesting that the First Shadow King of the realm threatened you?"
It was a trap perfectly executed.
If Isolde accused Thorne, she was challenging royal authority. She was suggesting that a king would interfere in a trial through intimidation and bribery. It was not just an accusation against Thorne....it was an accusation against the entire institution of the crown.
And no noble house, no matter how powerful, could survive making such an accusation successfully.
Isolde’s mouth opened and closed.
No words came.
"Continue," Thorne said to Petyr, his voice gentle now, his tone designed to reassure the terrified servant.
Petyr took a deep breath.
"The next day," he said, his voice growing slightly steadier as he realized he was safe, as he understood that the Shadow King was protecting him, that no matter what happened, Thorne would not allow harm to come to someone speaking the truth, "I heard Lady Isolde speaking with Lady Vivienne."
"Where were you when you heard this conversation?" Thorne asked.
"In Lady Isolde’s chambers. I was tending the fire. They didn’t notice me at first. I was about to announce myself and leave, but then I heard them speaking about the necklace, and I... I listened."
"What exactly did you hear them say?" Thorne asked.
Petyr’s voice became even quieter, but it was loud enough for the entire chamber to hear.
"Lady Isolde said, ’The necklace is ready. Tomorrow, we plant it.’"
The words fell into the chamber like stones dropped into still water, creating ripples that spread outward in all directions.
"Plant it?" Thorne repeated, allowing the word to carry its full weight.
"Yes, Your Majesty. She said they would plant it in the servant girl’s trunk during the inspection."
Isolde was on her feet now.
"You’re lying!" she screamed. "You’re all lying! This is a conspiracy against me! Against my family! You can’t...."
"Silence!" Cedric’s voice, sharp and commanding, cut through her objections.
He stood, his face ashen, his hand trembling slightly as he gestured to the guards.
"Restrain her," he commanded.
Guards moved forward and physically pulled Isolde back into her seat. She struggled against them, her composure shattering completely, her face twisted with rage and fear.
"You can’t do this!" she shrieked. "You don’t understand! She’s a threat! The kings....."
"Silence, or you will be removed from this proceeding," Cedric said coldly.
Isolde fell quiet, though her entire body vibrated with barely contained rage.
Cedric turned back to Thorne.
"Your Majesty," he said, his voice formal but shaken, "you said you have documented evidence?"
Thorne gestured to a guard, who stepped forward carrying a bundle of parchment.
Thorne took the parchment and handed it to Cedric.
"These are records," Thorne said, "of Lady Isolde’s movements on the day in question. They are signed by three separate servants who witnessed her entering and leaving Lady Margot’s chambers at a time when Lady Margot was not present."
Cedric unfolded the parchment with shaking hands.
His eyes scanned the documents, reading the careful notes, the signatures, the timestamps.
With each word he read, his expression grew more grave.
Other council members leaned in, reading over his shoulder, their faces darkening as the reality of what they were seeing sank in.
"These are..." Cedric began, then stopped. He cleared his throat. "These signatures. Are they authentic?"