The assassin had underestimated the king.

People had always claimed Rowan was nothing like his brother, that he was merciful where Alaric had been cruel, yet at that moment he no longer knew what to believe.

"Arghhh..." he screamed as the flames continued to consume his hair, and soon the sickening smell of burnt flesh filled the air. Cedric instinctively turned to Rowan, intending to stop him, but before he could utter another word, Rowan’s sharp voice cut through the room.

"Don’t."

Cedric immediately fell silent.

"Please..." The assassin, who had been arrogant only moments earlier, cried out desperately.

His screams pierced through the dungeon and echoed into the nearby halls of the palace, startling those who heard them and leaving everyone wondering what horror could produce such unbearable cries.

"Your Maje..." he gasped before his words broke apart. He lowered his head, then threw it back again as the fire continued to scorch him relentlessly. His fists clenched until his knuckles turned white as he struggled to endure the agony, but the pain was beyond anything he had imagined. He had tried to remain loyal, believing every secret was worth protecting, yet nothing was worth suffering like this.

"Who sent you?" Rowan asked, his voice calm enough to send an even colder chill through the room.

"Yes..." the assassin stammered, trembling violently. "I’ll tell you... I’ll tell you. Please..." Tears streamed freely down his face as every ounce of defiance left him.

At a single wave of Rowan’s hand, the guards rushed forward and emptied buckets of water over the assassin’s head. Steam rose into the air as the flames hissed before finally dying out. He sucked in ragged breaths, relief washing over him despite the unbearable pain that still throbbed through his scalp. Parts of his hair had burned away completely, while the few remaining strands hung loosely, ready to fall away with the slightest touch.

"Warren... Warren sent me," he blurted out before Rowan even had the chance to question him again.

"Warren?" Rowan repeated, narrowing his eyes.

The assassin nodded frantically. "I swear it to you. He’s the one behind this."

Rowan exchanged a brief glance with Cedric, but doubt lingered in his mind.

Warren’s name was not the one he had expected to hear. There had always been someone else occupying his suspicions, someone far more capable of orchestrating something like this.

Warren lacked both the courage and the resolve to plan such an elaborate scheme. There had to be another hand directing everything from the shadows.

Even so, this was the first solid lead they had managed to uncover.

Rowan turned to Cedric. "Keep Warren under watch, and if you notice anything suspicious, arrest him immediately."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Cedric replied with a respectful bow.

Rowan then looked back at the assassin, whose body still trembled uncontrollably from the pain. "For your sake, you had better not have lied to me."

---

Later that night, while Rosalind sat before her mirror brushing out her hair as she prepared for bed, the chamber door quietly opened and Rowan stepped inside. The moment she saw him, she set the comb aside and crossed the room without hesitation.

"How did it go?" she asked at once, searching his face for an answer. When he remained silent, her worry deepened. "I heard people saying the punishment was severe. What happened?"

Rowan drew in a slow breath before meeting her eyes. His jaw tightened as though he was struggling to find the right words.

"Rosalind... I feel like something has changed in me."

Her brows knitted together with concern. "What do you mean?"

He looked away for a brief moment before answering quietly. "I didn’t realize I could feel satisfaction from watching someone burn."

Her eyes widened as she tried to process his confession.

"You burned the assassin?" she asked carefully.

He gave a slow nod.

Disbelief flickered across her face, but she remained silent, allowing him to continue.

"I don’t know why I chose that punishment instead of any other," he admitted. "All I could think about was what would have happened if that knife had been meant for you instead. I kept imagining losing you..." His voice lowered even further as he struggled to finish the thought. "The anger I felt was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced."

He finally looked back at her. "Do you think I’ve gone too far?"

Rosalind held his gaze for a long moment before quietly asking, "Is he still alive?"

"He is," Rowan answered.

A faint sigh of relief escaped her lips.

So that was why the palace had been filled with those horrifying screams. Everyone had been shaken by them, never imagining that it was Rowan himself who had inflicted such punishment. Yet now he stood before her carrying something entirely different from triumph. There was guilt in his eyes, as though he was disturbed by the part of himself he had uncovered.

Without another word, Rosalind stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him.

Rowan froze for the briefest moment. He had expected shock, perhaps even disappointment, but instead she simply held him.

As her warmth surrounded him, the tension that had gripped his body since leaving the dungeon slowly began to melt away, and for the first time that night, he felt himself breathe a little easier.

When Rosalind finally pulled away, she looked into his eyes and gently cupped his face. "I understand now," she said softly. "Everything that’s happening has placed an enormous burden on you, and you’ve been carrying all that stress by yourself"

He lowered his gaze for a brief moment before speaking.

"Then why did I enjoy watching him burn?" he asked quietly, unable to hide the confusion in his voice.

Rosalind remained silent for a moment, searching for an answer she wasn’t sure existed.

she admitted honestly. "I can’t explain what you felt in that moment." She paused before looking at him again. "But tell me this... you tried to question him peacefully before you resorted to torture, didn’t you?"

"I did," Rowan answered.

Rosalind nodded slowly. She wasn’t trying to convince herself that what had happened was acceptable because it still unsettled her, yet she also knew Rowan well enough to understand that he would never have chosen such a method without first giving the man every opportunity to speak.

She spoke quietly, "What you did was frightening, Rowan, and I won’t pretend otherwise. But what matters to me is that you’re troubled by it. A cruel man wouldn’t have come here questioning himself or wondering whether he’d gone too far. He would have slept peacefully after it. The fact that you’re hurting over it tells me your conscience is still alive."

She gently intertwined her fingers with his as a faint smile touched her lips. "I’ll always be here for you, and thank you for trusting me enough to tell me everything."

Rowan gave a quiet nod, feeling a little of the weight on his chest ease. "The assassin confessed," he said after a moment.

"He claimed Warren was the one who sent him."

"Warren?" Rosalind repeated in disbelief.

She immediately pictured the quiet minister who rarely spoke during council meetings. Of all people, he was the last person she would have suspected.

"I was just as surprised," Rowan admitted. "Still, I’ve already asked Cedric to investigate him."

Rosalind frowned thoughtfully.

"You can never really tell with people," she murmured. "Sometimes the ones who appear the most harmless are the ones hiding the darkest intentions."

"I don’t believe he’s acting alone," Rowan said. "Rebecca told us that two men came to her house that day. If she manages to remember the other man’s face, I have a feeling he’s the one truly pulling the strings."

Rosalind gave him a knowing look.

"She’s only just regained consciousness," she reminded him gently. "Her body and mind have both been through a great deal. Give her a little more time."

Rowan slowly nodded in understanding.

****

Unfortunately for Warren, while he remained completely unaware of it, evidence had already been planted throughout his home. His partner had prepared for every possible outcome from the very beginning, including the possibility of betrayal, and had carefully arranged everything to ensure the blame would fall elsewhere if their plans unraveled.

By the time Warren returned home later that evening, he froze in the doorway.

His house had been turned upside down.

Drawers had been emptied, cupboards searched, and guards moved through every corner of the residence while servants stood trembling against the walls.

His eyes landed on Cedric.

"What is the meaning of this?" Warren demanded as he hurried forward. "How dare you search my home without permission?"

"We do, in fact, have permission," Cedric replied calmly.

He rose from Warren’s sofa with an official document still in his hand.

Not far away, Warren’s wife stood clutching their three frightened children, all of them watching the scene unfold with pale faces.

Cedric folded the warrant before looking directly at Warren.

"Warren, you are under arrest on suspicion of abduction, treason, and several other crimes currently under investigation."

At his signal, the guards immediately stepped forward, seized Warren’s arms, and restrained them behind his back.

"What is this?" Warren shouted as panic flashed across his face. "I haven’t done anything!"

His protests grew louder as the ropes tightened around his wrists.

"Lord Cedric!" he cried desperately. "You cannot do this! I’m innocent!"

Ignoring his pleas, the guards escorted him away to face the king and answer for the crimes that now hung over his name.