Chapter 19: The Trial of Courage
The thick scent of moss and the chill of stone walls from Shapira's prison cell still lingered, even as the first light of dawn broke over Astellia. Prince William, with a shattered heart and a mind consumed by Shapira's shadow, could not remain still. There was a strange urgency within him, not merely the duty of a prince, but the whisper of his heart that ceaselessly spoke Shapira's name. Guilt for not fully trusting her, and fury at the injustice she suffered, drove him to act.
"Was anyone else present in the dining hall that night, besides the nobles?" William asked a young maid named Elara, who trembled before him in a quiet corridor. The flickering candlelight danced across Elara's face, reflecting her fear.
"I was, Your Highness," Elara whispered. "I … I was serving the drinks that night."
"Tell me everything you saw," William urged, his voice calm but carrying an authority that could not be denied. He looked at Elara with eyes full of hope, as though this maid held the key to Shapira's freedom.
Elara swallowed hard, her gaze sweeping the corridor to make sure no eyes or ears were listening. "I saw … I saw Lady Isabelle, Your Highness. After Shapira poured her wine, she … she added something to her own drink. I'm not sure what it was, but … I'm certain I saw it." Elara repeated her words, this time with a little more confidence. "Her hand trembled slightly, but she did it, Your Highness. Shapira didn't see it. She had already turned away to pour water into Lord Valerius's goblet."
William let out a long breath, a weight lifting from his chest, though another burden now pressed down on him. "Are you certain?" he asked, needing confirmation.
"Absolutely certain, Your Highness. I … I didn't dare say anything before. Lady Isabelle is powerful, and I am only a servant. I feared retaliation." Elara lowered her head, tears beginning to well in her eyes.
William nodded. "You have done the right thing, Elara. Do not be afraid. Your secret is safe with me." His eyes softened with genuine gratitude. "You have given hope to someone who means a great deal to me." His heart, clouded for days with doubt and anger, now felt slightly lighter. He had never truly believed Shapira guilty, but Elara's testimony affirmed his instincts.
"Go now, Elara. Tell no one," William ordered.
Elara bowed deeply, fear still in her eyes but now mixed with relief. She turned and disappeared into the shadows of the long palace corridor.
William stood for a moment, reflecting on what he had just heard. Every word Elara spoke stripped away the layers of doubt planted by Isabelle and her mother. Clarity emerged in his mind. Shapira, the girl from another world, was innocent. Completely innocent. Rage burned in him, rage at Isabelle, at his mother, and at himself for letting Shapira suffer behind iron bars. He had to act. At once.
"You will not suffer any longer, Shapira," he whispered to the wind, his vow echoing down the silent hallway. His steps now brimmed with resolve as he made his way to Lord Valerius's residence.
The journey to Valerius Castle felt long and suffocating for William. Every jolt of the carriage was like a lash, reminding him of every second Shapira languished in misery. Lord Valerius's castle, usually grand and bustling with activity, now loomed cold and imposing, as though hiding a vile deceit.
"Prince William!" a guard at the gate exclaimed, startled by the prince's unexpected arrival.
"I need to speak with Lady Isabelle immediately," William commanded, his tone sharp and allowing no refusal. "This is a matter of utmost urgency."
Sensing the weight in the prince's voice, the guard quickly allowed him entry. "I will inform Lord Valerius, Your Highness."
"That won't be necessary," William cut him off, his eyes fixed firmly on the castle. "I will see her myself. In her chambers."
Lord Valerius, who had been reading in his study, was shocked by Prince William's sudden visit. He hurried to meet him in the main hall.
"Your Highness, it is an honor to see you here. What brings you to my home?" Lord Valerius asked, his expression laced with anxiety. The lines on his forehead deepened with worry.
"I've come to speak with your daughter, Lord Valerius," William said bluntly, his gaze sweeping the hall as if searching for something. "There is something important we must discuss, regarding … the poisoning incident."
Lord Valerius stiffened, his expression shifting. "Isabelle is resting, Your Highness. She has not yet fully recovered. Could this not wait?"
"No," William declared, his eyes blazing. "This cannot wait. This concerns justice, Lord Valerius. And the life of someone who is innocent." His voice trembled with restrained emotion.
Seeing the prince's unyielding determination, Lord Valerius sighed. "Very well, Your Highness. I will take you to her." He led William through silent corridors, each step heavy with tension.
Inside Isabelle's chamber, crimson velvet curtains covered the windows, casting the room in dim light. The scent of roses and lavender hung thick in the air, mingled with the sharp odor of medicine. Isabelle lay on her bed, her face pale, yet her eyes glimmered with cunning as William entered. She smiled, a thin smile steeped in false sweetness.
"Oh, Prince William! What an honor it is that you trouble yourself to visit poor me," Isabelle began, her voice weak and melodramatic, her performance flawless. "I never thought you cared so much for me."
William stood near the bed, arms crossed. His expression was cold, unreadable. "Don't pretend you don't know why I'm here, Isabelle," he cut in, his tone flat, emotionless, yet carrying undeniable weight. "We both know this isn't a casual visit."
Isabelle's smile faltered. "I don't understand, Your Highness. I am the victim here, poisoned by … that foreign servant."
"Enough with your charade," William snapped, his voice rising. "I know the truth, Isabelle. I know Shapira is innocent. And I know it was you who poisoned yourself."
Isabelle's eyes widened in shock, her pallor suddenly all too real. "What are you saying, Your Highness? That is a grave accusation! You accuse me, a noble, of such a vile act? Just to defend … that servant?" Her anger rose, shredding her frail façade.
"A servant you falsely accused, Isabelle. A servant you tried to destroy because of your blind jealousy," William countered, stepping closer to her bed. His words pierced her, making her squirm. "There is a witness, Isabelle. A maid who saw you add something to your own goblet after Shapira poured your wine."
Isabelle froze, her jaw tightening. She glanced at her father, who stood at the doorway, his face paling as he heard this indirect confession. Panic flashed in Isabelle's eyes. She searched for words, but William gave her no time.
"I don't care about your reasons, Isabelle. I only want the truth," William pressed, his voice carrying clear menace. "Shapira has suffered in prison because of your lies. She has been tormented. And I will not allow this to continue."
Isabelle sneered. "And what will you do, Prince? Throw me into prison? What will the world say if Prince William believes a foreign servant over an Astellian noble?"
"I will take this matter to the King," William threatened, his voice trembling with restrained fury. "I will testify before the council. I will expose your lies, Isabelle. And not just yours, but your family's disgrace. What will the nobles think when they learn Lady Isabelle staged a vile charade out of jealousy? And what of your father, Lord Valerius, who covered up your crime?" His eyes bore into Lord Valerius, who now trembled, his face ashen. The threat struck at the very heart of noble honor.
Lord Valerius staggered, unwilling to see his family's name ruined. "Isabelle," he rasped. "Is this true?"
Isabelle looked at her father, then back at William. Her eyes brimmed with hatred, but desperation burned stronger. She saw her ruin before her, her career as a noble, her family's reputation, all crumbling. "Fine!" she screamed, her voice breaking. "Fine! I … I will confess to Father." Tears streaked her cheeks, not of remorse, but of rage and defeat. "I will say that Shapira is innocent. But you … you will regret this, William." Her hands clawed at the bed sheets, knuckles white.
William's face was stone. "That is no longer your concern, Isabelle," he replied coldly. "What matters is justice for Shapira." He turned to Lord Valerius, who now bowed his head deeply. "Ensure your daughter keeps her word, Lord Valerius. Or the consequences will be far worse."
Lord Valerius nodded weakly, unable to speak. William turned and left the chamber, leaving Isabelle sobbing in rage and frustration. His steps felt lighter now, though his heart was still heavy imagining Shapira's suffering. It was a small victory, but he knew this was only the beginning.
Word of Isabelle's forced confession spread through the palace like wildfire. A new chaos arose. King Astellia, though relieved that William had uncovered the truth, found himself torn between justice and politics. Yet the most furious reaction came from Queen Eleanor, William's mother.
After ensuring Shapira's release and her care in a chamber within the palace, William found his mother waiting for him in the throne room. Queen Eleanor's face, usually composed and regal, now burned crimson with fury, her eyes blazing like embers. Seated on her throne, surrounded by guards, she radiated anger.
"William! How dare you do such a thing!" Queen Eleanor thundered, her voice echoing through the hall. "You have humiliated the Valerius family! You have stained their honor before all of Astellia! And all this … all this for that foreign servant?" Her fists clenched on the armrests, her knuckles white.
William stood tall before his mother, unflinching. "I sought only justice, Mother," he answered firmly. "Shapira is innocent. She was tortured in prison because of Isabelle's lies."
"Lies?" Queen Eleanor scoffed in disgust. "On what grounds do you trust the word of a lowly servant over a true noble? And you … you threatened Lord Valerius! Do you realize how vital our alliance with his family is? What will they say? What will neighboring kingdoms think?" Her voice climbed, searing every corner of the hall.
"Justice is more important than political alliances, Mother," William retorted, locking eyes with hers. "And Astellia's honor will not crumble because we defended the truth. Shapira has suffered. She did not deserve such treatment."
Queen Eleanor rose from her throne, descending toward him. Hatred flared in every movement. "You are blinded by that girl, William! You have fallen in love with Anya's shadow! She is nothing but an intruder, a dangerous one who has bewitched you with her sorcery!" Her voice nearly a scream, her rage overflowing.
William shook his head. "Shapira is not Anya. She is herself. And I love her, not because she resembles Anya, but because of her kindness, her courage, her sincerity." His eyes blazed with defiance. "And no magic has bewitched me, Mother. Only my heart has chosen her."
Queen Eleanor laughed bitterly, her laughter cutting like a blade. "Love? You speak of love while our kingdom teeters on the brink of war? Lucian waits at our gates, and you occupy yourself with a servant romance! You defy me, William. You defy your own mother for a girl you barely know!" Her gaze turned sharp, deadly, one she rarely revealed.
"I will not allow Shapira to be a victim of political schemes again, Mother," William declared firmly, his voice now an unshakable force.
Queen Eleanor closed her eyes briefly, inhaling deeply to steady herself. But her fury did not fade. "You have made a grave enemy, William," she said, her voice now calm, but icy and calculated, far more terrifying than her earlier rage. "I will not allow that girl to destroy you. I will not allow her to destroy Astellia. I will … I will find a way to remove her from your side, William. Whatever it takes. I swear it." The bitter vow lingered in the air, casting a dark shadow over Astellia's palace.
William felt a chill pierce his bones, realizing he had just opened a new chapter, one far more perilous, in his battle against his own mother for Shapira's love. He knew well, Queen Eleanor never spoke empty vows. The stakes had risen higher than ever.