Chapter 8 The Second Explosion
1039 Words
Deren, on the other hand, had done what many courtiers did all too often: he had confused the protection of the crown with the protection of his own position.
Kael took Deren’s report and closed it.
“Captain Deren, you are relieved of command of the royal escort effective immediately. You will be confined to military quarters until further notice and questioned by the security council. Every man present at the carriage will be interviewed separately. If it turns out that you attempted to alter other reports, your negligence will be treated as complicity.”
Deren bowed his head until it nearly touched the floor.
“Yes.”
A single nod to the guards at the door was enough for the captain—or, rather, the former captain—to be led away from the crown prince’s chamber. He did not protest. Men who fear for their lives learn quickly when silence is their last remaining defense.
Kael looked at Roland as soon as they were alone.
“You’re staying.”
The young soldier stiffened.
“You disobeyed a superior,” the prince continued. “But a man who always obeys is useful only as long as he receives the right orders. A man who can distinguish fear from loyalty is rarer.”
Roland stood motionless.
“There’s a wounded girl in the infirmary,” he said at last.
“Elara, daughter of Thomas.”
Kael turned slightly.
For a moment, the image of that young woman in Roland’s arms returned to Kael’s mind: pale, wounded, too close to something he still couldn’t explain.
Blood. Magic. Elara. No matter where he began, his memory brought them back together.
The second explosion must have happened near her.
Close enough to wound. Deliberately short of killing.
“She and her father will be kept under guard.”
“As prisoners?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
“As people under royal protection. No one is to approach them without authorization. No additional doctors, no curious servants, no nobles looking to gather gossip. I want to know who comes in, who goes out, and what they say.” The order came out too fast.
Roland bowed his head. Kael was known for being direct in his judgments and orders. As the crown prince spoke, his respect for him grew with every word.
“As people under royal protection. No one is to approach them without authorization. Doctors, servants, nobles—I want every name recorded.”
“Good. You will report directly to me.”
Only then did the soldier look up. Although he was a young officer in the royal guard, the chain of command was still long—and with a single sentence, Kael had drastically and dangerously shortened it. A direct order from the prince gave Roland authority. It also left him nowhere to hide.
For the first time, Kael saw in him not only discipline, but understanding. A direct line to the prince was not a promotion. It was a risk.
Roland gave no thanks. Only a nod.
“Yes.”
Kael returned to his desk and picked up the report again.
The truth about the first explosion was finally in writing.
The second one, not yet.
But now Kael had a man willing to say what others would have preferred to bury.
It would do. For now.
“Despite what the reports indicate, too much doesn’t add up about yesterday’s events,” the prince continued, sitting down and softening his tone slightly, implicitly putting Roland at ease a little.
“The first blast came from the carriage. The carriage was inspected. Twice.” He looked at Roland. “So either my guards missed something, or there was nothing to find. And then there’s the second explosion. So we look both ways. At the gardeners, and at the guard. My men are verifying the gardeners’ movements in recent days, and all your colleagues who were present yesterday are also under surveillance.”
The crown prince’s gaze narrowed slightly, while his lips curved into a smile.
Now he had one more man he could use.
Elara’s name remained where it shouldn’t: in his mind, not the file.
Elara woke in pieces.
It wasn’t a sharp awakening, nor was it truly sudden. It was more like a slow return to the surface, as if her mind had to fight its way through layers of pain, exhaustion, and confusion before she could recognize the world around her.
Then came the pain.
The pain had no center. Her ribs hurt. Her arms hurt. Even her fingers seemed to have bruises. Her legs seemed far away. Her head throbbed at irregular intervals, and each throb brought with it a jumbled fragment of broken images.
Thomas took her hand gently, as if he were afraid of hurting her even by the slightest touch.
“I’m here.”
Then she saw Roland by the door.
He stood at the entrance to the room, motionless with the composure of a royal guard. He had neither the aggressive demeanor of someone seeking to intimidate nor the distracted air of someone carrying out a menial task. He stood straight and alert, with a silent discipline that made him all the more impossible to ignore.
He was young, but not inexperienced.
Elara had seen him before.
She didn’t remember his name, but she remembered his face amid the confusion of the day of the attack. He was one of the men who had taken action while everyone else was shouting orders without really being able to make sense of the chaos.
The soldier met her gaze and took a step forward.
Not too close. And that puzzled her.
“Pardon the interruption,” he said with a composed bow. “I am Roland, an officer of the Royal Guard.”
Thomas let go of Elara’s hand, but only to sit up straighter in his chair.
“We know that.”
The reply was polite.
It wasn’t welcoming.
Roland didn’t seem offended. He lowered his gaze to the tray instead of reacting like a man eager to defend his rank in front of two servants. Elara looked for the threat in him and didn’t find it fast enough.
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