LUCIAN
The morning light fell thinly through the tall windows of the council chamber. Dust drifted lazily in the golden air, softening the edges of stone and glass. The Crown Prince stood by the window, one hand resting against the sill, his eyes fixed on the palace courtyard below. It was still early, yet already the servants moved with the restless energy of rumor.
The palace was waking to whispers.
Behind him, Lucian and Leopold waited near the long table. The silence between them was steady but heavy, filled with the weight of what they had set in motion.
The Crown Prince did not turn immediately when he spoke. "It has begun, then?"
Lucian's voice was calm. "Yes, Your Highness. The story has taken root. The court does not know the details, only that there are questions about Montclair's bloodline."
Leopold gave a low hum of satisfaction. "They are calling him the boy built with lies."
The Crown Prince turned at last. His expression did not change, but something in his eyes sharpened. "A cruel name. Effective, though."
Lucian inclined his head. "It spreads faster than we expected. By yesterday evening, it had reached the southern wing. This morning, the chancellor's clerk repeated it at breakfast."
"Good," Leopold said. "Let them taste the doubt they have fed to others for years."
The Crown Prince walked toward the table, his pace measured. "And Montclair?"
Lucian exchanged a look with Leopold before answering. "He knows something is moving against him. He has begun summoning his allies, but several have already withdrawn their support. The merchant guild in the eastern district froze his private accounts last night."
Leopold smiled faintly. "The first crack in his foundation."
The Prince rested both hands on the table. "Do we have confirmation of who leaked the story?"
Lucian shook his head. "No single source. I made sure of that. It came from many mouths at once, all repeating fragments. There is no traceable beginning."
The Crown Prince studied him for a moment. "You have done well."
Lucian's tone remained level. "This is only the beginning, Your Highness. Montclair will not crumble quietly."
The Crown Prince nodded. "No. He will fight. But for the first time, he will fight without certainty."
He looked toward the window again, his reflection faint in the glass. "A man who lives by deceit cannot survive the weight of truth. Even the suggestion of it begins to rot the walls around him."
Leopold poured himself a cup of wine and leaned back in his chair. "If I did not know better, I would say you sound almost poetic, Highness."
The Crown Prince gave him a small, humorless smile. "Poetry is a language the court understands better than law. They will turn this into a story long before they see it as justice."
Lucian spoke quietly. "Then let them. Stories are stronger than decrees in this place."
The Crown Prince regarded him thoughtfully. "You speak as if you have seen it happen before."
"I have," Lucian said. "A truth whispered in the right ear can move a hundred men. A lie, once believed, takes an army to undo. We are merely turning his own craft against him."
The Crown Prince turned to the map spread across the table. Small markers indicated the noble houses allied to Montclair. Several were already turned downward, symbolizing neutrality or silence.
"Which of his allies remain firm?" he asked.
Leopold tapped two markers. "The House of Delamere and the northern magistrates. They owe him too much coin to turn easily. The others are wavering."
The Crown Prince considered this. "Then we will not force their hand yet. Let them watch him weaken. When they see that his protection is gone, they will shift to our side without being asked."
He moved one of the markers slowly toward the center of the map. "And what of the treasury records?"
Lucian opened a small folder. "Varrow's documents confirm the falsified ledgers. I have already shown them to the royal auditor. Once he completes the verification, the proof will be irrefutable."
The Crown Prince's expression hardened. "When that happens, Montclair will be stripped of his titles, if father allows it."
Leopold gave a low whistle. "And the council will eat itself alive in the process."
"Better that than rot quietly," the Crown Prince said.
The three men stood in silence for a moment. Outside, the sound of bells drifted faintly through the open window. It was a peaceful sound, but it carried the uneasy rhythm of change.
The Crown Prince spoke again, his voice lower now. "My father built this court on appearances. He believed that if the people saw beauty, they would forgive corruption. Montclair learned that lesson too well. He wears grace like armor, and for years, it has been enough to hide the truth. But the time for illusion is over."
Lucian's eyes met his. "The late Queen's secret began this lie. Montclair turned it into a kingdom."
The Crown Prince's jaw tightened. "And now he will pay for both."
Leopold set down his cup and straightened. "If I may, Your Highness, we should prepare for retaliation. Montclair will not accept defeat quietly. He will try to discredit Lucian, perhaps even you."
The Crown Prince nodded. "He will try. But he has lost the advantage. Lies are only powerful when believed, and the court has begun to doubt him."
He looked to Lucian. "You have risked much for this."
Lucian's tone was even. "I did what was necessary. For Evelina, and for the Crown."
The Crown Prince studied him for a moment, then gave a single nod. "Your loyalty will not be forgotten."
The conversation turned to logistics. Reports were exchanged, orders drafted. The council messengers would deliver subtle commands throughout the day, positioning their allies and isolating Montclair's remaining power.
When the formalities were done, the Crown Prince dismissed them. Whitcombe bowed lightly before leaving the chamber. Lucian remained behind for a moment, lingering near the window.
"The rumor will reach him today," Lucian said quietly. "He will know that we are behind it."
"I expect he already does," the Crown Prince replied.
Lucian looked thoughtful. "He will go to Evelina. It is in his nature. He will want to believe she still sees him as the man he pretends to be."
The Crown Prince's gaze turned sharp. "Then she must be warned."
"I will see to it," Lucian said.
The Crown Prince watched him go, his cloak whispering against the stone floor. When the door closed, the chamber fell silent again.
He turned back to the window. Below, the courtiers moved like bright insects through the gardens. Their voices rose and fell in gentle rhythm, but he knew what they carried between them. The rumor had already taken life. It was no longer a whisper. It was a storm disguised as gossip.
The boy built with lies.
The phrase had spread through the corridors faster than even he anticipated. It was cruel, yes, but there was power in cruelty. It forced people to look closer, to question what they had accepted as truth.
Montclair's face flashed in his mind, calm and confident, the smile that had once charmed half the court. The Prince had once admired him, even trusted him. Now he saw the truth behind that poise, a man who had been born into deceit and made deceit his inheritance.
The Crown Prince's reflection stared back at him in the glass. For the first time, he wondered what would become of the realm when this secret became more than rumor. The Queen's memory would not survive it untouched. Yet to keep it buried would be to let the lie continue.
He whispered to himself, "Let the truth be cruel if it must. Better cruelty than corruption."
A knock came at the door. One of his attendants entered, bowing. "Your Highness, the Council has convened an emergency session. The Duke of Delamere requests an audience."
The Prince adjusted his cuffs. "He has heard, then."
"Yes, Your Highness. The court is unsettled. They are asking if it is true."
The Prince gave a small, measured smile. "Then let them ask."
He walked toward the door, his cloak trailing behind him like a dark shadow. "It is time they remember who truly rules this court."
As he stepped into the hall, the murmur of voices reached him, the court's endless appetite for scandal now feeding on the truth. Servants bowed, guards straightened, and still the whispers followed him through the corridors.
By the time he reached the council chamber, he knew the war had already begun.
Montclair's empire of influence was trembling. The first stones had fallen, and there would be no stopping the avalanche to come.
The Crown Prince paused at the door, listening to the restless noise beyond it. He thought of Lucian, of the risk they had both taken, and of Evelina, the woman caught in the middle of two men's conviction.
He took a breath, steady and quiet, then opened the door.
The storm awaited.