Claimed By The Tyrant King
Chapter 215: Blood At The Banquet
At least Julian was beginning to settle into this place, even if it was only little by little, and it was all thanks to Rosalind, who had taken it upon herself to look after him. He didn’t know what he would have done without her, he thought as his gaze lingered on the gentle smile resting on her beautiful face.
Rowan lifted his cup and took a slow sip of his wine just as one of the elder council members turned toward him. "Your Majesty, it is wonderful news that the matter concerning an heir has finally been settled. Who would have thought that the heir would come so soon?" the elderly man said, prompting several others around the table to laugh before raising their cups once more.
"Indeed... His Majesty is very strong," another minister commented with a grin.
They had never managed to embarrass Rowan quite like they were doing now.
Although his face betrayed only the faintest smile, inwardly he wished the conversation would move on.
When his eyes met Rosalind’s, she had already pressed her lips together as though trying not to laugh.
"Actually, the queen is the one who deserves the praise," Rowan replied calmly. "She is the strong one."
Rosalind’s eyes widened ever so slightly as everyone’s attention shifted toward her.
"Indeed... Her Majesty is truly remarkable," one noble agreed.
She managed a graceful smile despite the warmth creeping up her cheeks, although inwardly she had already decided that Rowan would answer for this later that night.
"Yes... Her Majesty is very capable," several voices echoed around the table, and now it was Rosalind’s turn to feel thoroughly embarrassed while Rowan merely lifted a brow at her, the corner of his lips curving into the faintest hint of satisfaction.
****
While laughter, cheerful conversations, and the clinking of glasses continued to fill the banquet hall, no one noticed the silent figure slipping through the palace grounds beneath the cover of darkness.
Moving with practiced precision, the intruder avoided every patrol and every guard post, weaving through the shadows until they reached the residential quarters.
One room after another was inspected in silence as the figure searched with a single destination in mind.
After what felt like an eternity, the person finally stopped outside one particular chamber. The hallway was quiet, but two guards stood watch at the entrance.
Slowly, the figure crouched and released a small snake onto the stone floor.
The creature slithered forward, its tongue flicking through the air as it glided toward the guards.
One of them shifted their gaze to the ground. "A snake?" he exclaimed, immediately stepping back.
"It’ll get away. Hurry and catch it," the other guard shouted, and without another thought, both of them rushed after the creature as it disappeared farther down the corridor.
The instant the entrance was left unguarded, the figure slipped silently along the wall before easing the wooden door open just enough to slide inside.
The room smelled strongly of herbs and medicine. Bottles, bowls, and folded cloths rested neatly on the nearby table, while the only sound was the soft crackling of the lantern burning in the corner.
The intruder’s gaze swept across the chamber before finally settling on the sleeping woman lying quietly upon the bed.
Rebecca.
Her face remained pale, her breathing slow and even, completely unaware of the danger that had just entered the room.
The figure’s eyes darkened the moment they landed on their target.
Meanwhile, the banquet carried on without the slightest hint that danger had already found its way into the palace.
Julian had finally eaten all he could manage and leaned back against his chair with a satisfied sigh. "Are you full?" Rowan asked, turning toward him.
The little boy nodded immediately.
It was the best meal he had ever eaten. Never in his life had he tasted roasted chicken or lamb prepared so wonderfully, and after eating until he could barely fit another bite, he relaxed comfortably against his chair.
"It seems you like chicken very much," Rosalind observed with a smile. "Should I have the kitchen prepare it for you again tomorrow?"
"That would be very nice of you," Julian replied, returning her smile.
A little while later, he looked around quietly before speaking again. "I... I would like to go now."
Rosalind looked at him with mild confusion. "Aren’t you enjoying yourself?" she asked gently.
"No... that’s not it," Julian murmured, lowering his gaze. There were mostly elderly people around the table, and although some nobles had brought their children, they were seated too far away for him to speak with them. Aside from the delicious food, there wasn’t much for him to do. After a brief pause, he quietly added, "I want to go and see Mother."
Rosalind was about to respond when Rowan reached over and gently touched her hand, silently stopping her.
"You may go, Julian. Cedric will escort you," Rowan said.
Julian bowed gratefully before rising from his seat, and Cedric immediately stepped forward to accompany him.
Together they walked through the palace corridors toward Rebecca’s quarters, their footsteps echoing softly through the quiet halls.
"You’ve been checking on her quite often," Cedric said as they walked side by side. "How is she doing?"
"The physi... physician..." Julian corrected himself after stumbling over the word. "He said she’s getting better."
Cedric nodded. "Hmm. That’s good news," he replied, completely unaware that, only a few corridors ahead, someone else had reached Rebecca’s room first.
"I want to tell her that I had good food and that everyone has been so nice to me," Julian said, a small smile appearing on his face.
"You definitely should," Cedric encouraged warmly as they reached Rebecca’s quarters.
Their footsteps gradually slowed, and the guards who had already returned to their posts bowed respectfully the moment they saw him. Cedric acknowledged them with a slight nod before one of the guards opened the door.
However, the instant Cedric and Julian stepped inside, both of their eyes widened in shock.
An assassin stood beside Rebecca’s bed, a bloodstained knife gripped tightly in his hand, its blade still glinting beneath the candlelight.