The Prince's Arranged Marriage-Chapter 103: The Regent’s Smile II

The council chamber was full of smiles.

That was how Alexander knew the day had turned.

When he entered, several men rose too quickly, bowing too deeply. Their faces were calm, their eyes bright with something they were trying to hide.

Relief.

As if the kingdom had finally returned to "order."

Aldren greeted him first, voice warm. "Your Highness. Thank you for meeting again."

Alexander didn’t sit.

He didn’t smile back.

He looked at the faces around the table, calm as winter.

"Where is he," Alexander said.

Aldren blinked, still holding his polished expression. "Your Highness... we understand your distress"

Alexander stepped closer by one pace. "Where."

A soft cough from the far end.

The silver-haired councilman, Varric, leaned forward with the patient look of a man who believed he was guiding a storm away from a cliff.

"Your Highness," Varric said gently, "there is no need for force. The people are already unsettled. We can handle this with dignity."

Alexander’s eyes narrowed. "Dignity."

Varric spread his hands. "Avaloria is a proud kingdom. It needs continuity. It needs calm leadership. It needs"

"Lucien," Alexander cut in, voice flat.

Aldren’s smile tightened. "Prince Lucien is... unwell."

There it was again.

The story told too fast.

Alexander tilted his head slightly. "You’ve seen him."

Aldren hesitated. Too small for most to notice.

Alexander noticed everything.

Aldren recovered. "We have been informed by trusted sources"

"Trusted sources," Alexander repeated softly, as if tasting the phrase.

Varric sighed. "Your Highness, the prince’s health is private. It would be cruel to"

Alexander’s voice sharpened, still quiet. "Stop using kindness as a weapon."

The room stilled.

Alexander looked at Varric directly. "If you truly cared about his health, you would bring him to independent healers. Under my guard. In public. Today."

Varric’s smile didn’t move, but something in his eyes cooled. "Public display is unnecessary."

"Then it’s not about his health," Alexander said.

Aldren lifted his goblet slightly, as if to soften the air. "The council only wants what is best for Avaloria."

Alexander’s gaze swept the room again.

He saw it, the way some men avoided his eyes, the way others watched him like they were measuring how far he could be pushed before he snapped.

They wanted him to roar.

They wanted the prince to look like a threat.

Alexander wouldn’t give them that pleasure.

He reached into his coat and placed two sheets of paper on the table.

Maris’s duplicates.

Real numbers. Real signatures. Real trails.

"What’s best for Avaloria," Alexander said evenly, "is that your forged books stop lying to the people."

A ripple of discomfort moved through the chamber.

Aldren’s smile faltered slightly. "Your Highness, those are procurement records. The council doesn’t handle"

"You handle the routes," Alexander replied.

Varric leaned forward, still composed. "Your Highness, you are letting grief push you into accusations."

Accusations.

Alexander let the word hang.

Then he smiled faintly sharp, controlled.

"Not accusations," Alexander said. "Evidence."

Varric’s fingers tightened once on his chair arm.

Alexander watched the movement and felt something cold settle into place.

He turned his head slightly. "You’re smiling because you think you’ve already won."

Varric’s expression stayed calm. "I’m smiling because Avaloria will not be ruled by panic."

Alexander stepped closer again, voice still low. "No. You’re smiling because my husband is gone and you think that makes the throne easier to steer."

A hush fell.

Aldren opened his mouth.

Alexander lifted one hand. Not dramatic. Just final.

"Here is what will happen," Alexander said calmly. "Today, I issue a public notice: Prince Lucien is missing. There will be no false statements about his health, no ’rest,’ no ’temporary withdrawal.’ Missing."

Varric’s eyes sharpened. "That will cause fear."

"Yes," Alexander said. "And fear will make people ask the right questions."

Aldren’s voice tightened. "Your Highness, the council cannot allow"

Alexander’s gaze cut to him. "Allow."

Aldren stiffened.

Alexander continued, "Second: I am appointing independent auditors to review every provincial report connected to the inspections. Not council-chosen. Mine."

Varric’s smile thinned. "Your Highness, you are overstepping"

"I am stepping exactly where the law allows," Alexander replied.

Then he leaned in slightly, voice dropping colder.

"And where it doesn’t," he added, "I will step anyway."

Silence.

Varric studied him for a long moment, then spoke softly. "You’re making enemies."

Alexander’s smile returned, small and lethal. "Good. Enemies make mistakes."

He straightened.

"Third," Alexander said, "I am ordering the city presses inspected. Any press distributing anonymous political pamphlets will be shut down pending investigation."

Aldren’s mouth tightened. "That is censorship."

Alexander’s eyes stayed calm. "It is crime prevention."

Varric’s gaze lingered on Alexander’s face, as if trying to find the crack where emotion lived.

Alexander gave him none.

Then, with deliberate calm, Alexander said the thing he knew would split the room.

"And finally: until Prince Lucien is returned, there will be no talk of stewardship, no talk of regency, no ’advisory leadership’ dressed in pretty words. Anyone who pushes it will be treated as benefiting from his disappearance."

A few faces went pale.

Good.

Varric’s smile didn’t break, but his eyes chilled. "You cannot prove anyone is benefiting."

Alexander met his gaze. "Then don’t act like you are."

The room went very still.

Aldren cleared his throat. "Your Highness... perhaps we should pause. Let emotions settle."

Alexander’s voice was calm. "My emotions are settled."

He looked at them all. "Your lies are not."

He picked up Maris’s papers again, slid them into his coat, and turned to leave.

As he reached the door, Varric spoke behind him, voice gentle again. dangerously so.

"Your Highness," Varric said, "if the prince is unwell, forcing him back into public view will only harm him."

Alexander paused.

He turned his head slightly, not fully, and spoke without warmth.

"He’s not unwell," Alexander said. "He’s taken."

He looked back just enough for Varric to see his eyes.

"And when he returns," Alexander added softly, "your smile will be the first thing he remembers."

Alexander left.

Outside the chamber, the palace air felt colder.

A guard captain fell into step beside him. "Your Highness, we traced one courier route. It leads to a storage district outside the east wall."

Alexander’s eyes sharpened. "How many stops."

"Three," the captain said. "And one of them is near an old service road."

Alexander’s jaw tightened.

Old service roads again.

They were moving him. Hiding him. Relocating him like an object with value.

Alexander’s fist clenched at his side, restrained rage under tight control.

"Send a team," Alexander ordered. "Quiet entry. No banners. No shouting."

"Yes, Your Highness."

Alexander kept walking, mind already mapping the strike.

As he turned a corner, a young servant bowed too deeply, trembling, and whispered, "Your Highness... I’m sorry."

Alexander stopped.

The servant’s eyes were wet. "They’re saying he’s sick. People are repeating it. I heard a lady in the kitchens say"

Alexander lifted a hand gently, not to silence, but to steady.

"Don’t repeat it," Alexander said quietly.

The servant swallowed. "Yes, Your Highness."

Alexander’s voice stayed calm. "Tell the kitchens this: Prince Lucien is not sick. He is missing. If they love him, they will not help a lie grow legs."

The servant nodded quickly.

Alexander walked on.

Because the fight wasn’t only in alleys and safe houses.

It was in mouths.

In whispers.

In stories.

And right now, the enemy’s story was trying to become the kingdom’s truth.

Alexander would not allow that.

Not while he could still breathe.