King Alexander fixed his gaze on his son, Prince Sebastian, his expression unreadable. A moment of silence hung between them before he turned to his soldier and ordered, "Wait outside. I will call you when I need you."
The soldier bowed, then quietly exited the king's study, closing the door behind him with a soft thud. The king shifted his attention back to his young son, his eyes sharp with curiosity and concern. "What do you mean? What necklace are you talking about?" he asked in a firm tone.
Sebastian lowered his head, his fingers tightening into fists. "The necklace... I saw it in my mother's paintings in the attic," he murmured. King Alexander let out a slow breath and pressed his fingers against his forehead. "I told you before—you are not allowed to go there," he reminded his son, his voice laced with disapproval.
"But—" Sebastian tried to protest, but his father swiftly cut him off. "And how can you be certain it's the same necklace?" the king questioned. "You only saw it in a painting."
Sebastian's frustration boiled over, his voice trembling as he spoke. "Why do you act like this? Mother's paintings should be displayed for everyone to see, for people to remember her! But instead, they're locked away like a secret." His breath hitched as he continued, his emotions raw. "Sometimes, I feel like I'm the only one who still thinks about her. Don't you miss her? Don't you care about her necklace and the things she left behind? Why are they hidden? If you don't want them, then I do. I want that necklace. In every painting, she was always wearing it, so I believe it is important to her."
The room fell into a heavy silence. The young prince's voice cracked at the end, revealing the sadness he had been holding back. King Alexander let out a weary sigh. For a moment, he said nothing. Then, in a resigned tone, he finally spoke. "Alright. I will find it and give it to you." He straightened his posture and waved his hand dismissively. "You may go now. I have urgent matters to attend to."
Sebastian stood still for a second, as if waiting for something more—an explanation, a sign that his father felt the same sorrow. But none came. Swallowing his disappointment, he turned and quietly left the study. The door closed behind him, leaving King Alexander alone with his thoughts.
King Alexander sat in silence, his gaze unfocused, lost in the depths of his thoughts. It was as if he had been transported to another time, reliving distant memories that only he could see. A shadow of emotion flickered across his face, but he pushed it away just as quickly.
A sudden knock at the door pulled him back to the present. The sound broke through his reverie, and he straightened in his seat, his expression returning to its usual sternness.
"Come in," he commanded.
The door opened, and a soldier stepped inside, bowing respectfully before walking forward. Without wasting any time, they began discussing the urgent matter at hand—the death of Belvane.
King Alexander's voice was firm as he gave his orders. "I want every piece of information you can find about the maid, Theresa. Everything—her background, her family, where she came from, the people she associates with. Leave nothing out. Do you understand?" The soldier stood tall and responded without hesitation, "Yes, Your Majesty."
Nestled deep beneath the castle, the dungeon was a grim and forgotten place. Dimly lit by flickering torches, its stone walls were damp with age, coated in grime and the stench of decay. The air was thick with the foul odor of mold and unwashed bodies, and the cold floor was stained with the past. It was here that criminals were imprisoned, left to rot in silence as they awaited their final judgment.
The air in the dungeon was damp and heavy, the flickering torchlight casting eerie shadows against the cold stone walls. King Alexander stood tall, his piercing gaze locked onto Theresa, the servant kneeling before him. Her wrists were bound, and her face was pale with fear, yet she held her head high, her lips pressed into a thin line.
"You were the last person to see Belvane alive," the King said, his voice calm yet filled with an unmistakable authority. "Tell me exactly what happened." Theresa swallowed hard, her hands trembling. "Your Majesty, I swear, it was a complete and unintentional accident. I acted solely in self-defense. He stumbled, causing the glasses to fall. I swear, it was not my intention."
Alexander studied her, his sharp eyes searching for any sign of deceit. Before he could press further, the heavy dungeon doors creaked open. The sound echoed through the chamber, drawing everyone's attention.
Princess Vivienne entered, her husband, Sir Roland Claudio, walking beside her. She moved with practiced grace, her noble presence commanding attention. The guards straightened at her arrival, but it was not her presence alone that caught the King's eye—it was the glint of the necklace resting against her chest.
His breath hitched. His expression darkened. "That necklace…?" His voice was quieter this time, laced with something between disbelief and suspicion. His sharp gaze fixed on the piece of jewelry, and the room fell into an uneasy silence.
Vivienne instinctively clutched the necklace, her fingers tightening around it. Her heart pounded as she saw the way the King's eyes burned with recognition. 'I thought he would never notice… He never even paid attention to his late wife before.' She swallowed hard and forced a smile, willing herself to stay composed. "I bought it," she said quickly, her voice smooth but her fingers betraying her unease as they gripped the pendant tightly.
King Alexander's jaw tightened. His once calm expression turned unreadable as he took a step forward. "Don't lie to me," he said, his voice a deep, commanding growl. "There is only one of that necklace. And I know this for certain—because I was the one who gave it to my late wife."
A cold shiver ran down Vivienne's spine. The weight of the King's words crushed any hope of talking her way out of it. Her lips parted, but no words came.
The room fell into suffocating silence. The guards exchanged glances; their attention locked on Vivienne. Roland's face hardened as he looked at his wife, his jaw clenched in disappointment. "Vivienne," he said, his tone firm, almost weary. "I will buy you another one. Give it to His Majesty."
Her fingers twitched around the chain, reluctant to let go. Her pride screamed at her to refuse, to argue, but one look at Roland's stern gaze and the King's unwavering eyes told her that resistance was futile. Swallowing her shame, she unclasped the necklace with stiff fingers and stepped forward. With trembling hands, she placed it in the King's outstretched palm.
Alexander stared down at the delicate piece of jewelry in his hand. The weight of memories crashed over him like a tidal wave. He could still remember the way it looked around his wife's neck, the way she had cherished it, the way she had smiled when he had gifted it to her.
His grip tightened.
Without another word, Vivienne turned on her heel and strode out of the dungeon, her pride wounded. As she passed Roland, she shot him a glare, but he didn't return it. He only exhaled heavily before following behind her.
The dungeon doors slammed shut, leaving King Alexander alone with the necklace in his grasp and the bitter taste of the past lingering in the air.
At the servant's quarters, Madeline sat on the edge of her small wooden bed, gently turning the delicate music box in her hands. The soft, tinkling melody filled the quiet room, a tune that brought both comfort and longing. Prince Sebastian had given it to her during their visit to the festival—a precious gift, a reminder of the warmth and joy she had felt that day.
Her thoughts drifted to her mother. Where is she? Is she still working at the ball? She sighed, hugging the music box to her chest. Then, another thought crept in—Prince Sebastian. She wondered if he was enjoying himself at the ball, laughing and dancing in the grand hall while she remained tucked away in the servants' quarters.
Sleep refused to come. The night felt restless, filled with distant sounds of laughter and music from the palace above. Curiosity and loneliness stirred inside her. She needed to see them—just a glimpse.
Without hesitation, she slipped out of bed and tiptoed across the room. Still dressed in her nightgown, she pulled a light shawl over her shoulders before quietly opening the door. The cold air greeted her as she stepped outside.
The distant sounds of the ball guided her steps. She moved carefully, staying close to the walls and avoiding the pools of flickering lantern light. The last thing she wanted was to be caught sneaking around.
As she neared the grand hall, she spotted servants rushing back and forth, attending to the guests. She pressed herself against a nearby column, peeking out cautiously. The sight before her was mesmerizing—golden chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings, noblemen and women dressed in shimmering gowns and embroidered suits, the air filled with music and laughter.
Madeline's eyes searched for familiar faces. Mother must be here somewhere... She scanned the crowd, but before she could find her, her gaze landed on someone else—Prince Sebastian. Her heart leaped with excitement. She had not expected to see him so soon.