CHAPTER 38: FAKE SUSPECT

Edward moved toward the prince, who was already giving quiet commands to his soldiers, his voice low but carrying authority. The royal guards snapped to action around him, their armour clinking as they began moving people and dispersing the remaining guests.

"I don’t think he—" Edward began, his tone cautious.

The prince cut him off with a sharp gesture. "I know. I share the feeling. No assassin would be foolish enough to leave an ampule in his own pocket." His gaze hardened as it swept across the hall, lingering briefly on the man being dragged away in chains. "But we should still interrogate him. Someone near him was the killer. That ampule was somehow planted in his pocket."

Edward gave a short nod. It was what he suspected as well, though the certainty in the prince’s words unsettled him.

"What about the rest of the guests?" he asked.

The prince’s jaw tightened. "We can’t keep them locked in here any longer. Not with the main suspect already taken in chains."

Edward lingered for a moment, his eyes narrowing on the crowd as nervous chatter swelled.

Then he spoke out, "Perhaps it’s for the best."

The prince raised a brow. "Oh?"

"If the real killer believes we’ve caught the wrong man, they might become comfortable. Perhaps even careless. And then they’ll make a mistake that can lead us to them."

For a long moment, the prince studied him, then gave a curt nod. "I see. Yes... yes, perhaps you’re right." His voice softened, though it carried a sharper edge beneath.

He turned, watching the accused man getting hauled through a side door, struggling against the iron grip of two guards. "I want you to interrogate the suspect," the prince said. "Your methods will likely be less... extreme than those of the royal guards."

Edward inclined his head.

"Very well. I’ll tell Aeris and Seraphine to go home. The interrogation might take a while."

The prince gave him a faint, almost apologetic smile, followed by a slight nod.

Then he turned and disappeared through the same door, half of his guards following while the others moved to open the exit. The guests, relieved but still trembling, began flooding out into the night air.

Edward paused for a moment, his eyes locked on the dispersing crowd.

His mind wandered to the loose thought of who might be the real killer.

But he could only dwell on that thought for less than a moment before two familiar figures approached him.

Aeris and Seraphine stepped forward with questioning looks on their faces.

"I’m going to interrogate the suspect," Edward said before they could ask. "You two should go home. Recall everything from tonight. Think about anything suspicious you might’ve seen. I’ll see you both at the house."

Aeris parted her lips, ready to protest, but Seraphine was quick to respond. "Okay..." she said softly. Her hand slipped around Aeris’ arm as she tugged her toward the exit. "Be safe," she added, her gaze lingering on Edward a moment too long before she turned away.

Aeris glanced back once, her eyes full of reluctance, but then she allowed herself to be pulled into the stream of guests leaving the hall.

When the last of the nobles had filtered out and the echo of boots and silk had faded, Edward turned and strode toward the guarded door. The soldiers stationed there gave way immediately, having already received instructions from the prince to let him in.

A few narrow corridors later, lit by torches that flickered against stone walls, he found the prince waiting outside a heavy wooden door.

"He’s in there," Arthur said, his tone quiet but firm. "If you need anything, let me know."

Edward gave a short nod and pushed the door open.

The chamber was small and bare, a single torch fixed to the wall casting jagged shadows across the stone. In the center sat the accused man, bound tightly to a chair. His face was swollen, bruises blooming across his cheekbones and jaw. Blood trickled from his split lip.

"I swear I didn’t—"

"Quiet," Edward interrupted flatly as he took a step inside and shut the door behind him.

The man froze, caught off guard by the abruptness of the word.

"I will ask you a few questions," Edward continued, his tone even and unyielding. "Answer them, and you’ll walk out of here alive. Refuse..." He let the pause linger, his gaze drifting toward the door. "And the royal guards will finish what they started."

The man paled at the mention and nodded quickly. The idea of seeing royal guards once more sent shivers down his spine.

"Good. Now tell me... Did you speak to anyone tonight you’d never met before?"

The man blinked at the question.

"Huh? Oh—of course. It’s a banquet. A great place to meet high officials and make connections."

"Anyone unusual?"

The man gave a weak laugh that turned into a cough, spitting blood into his lap. "Unusual? They’re all unusual. Highborn, polished, speaking like every word was worth a coin. Most of them barely noticed I existed."

Edward’s brow furrowed. "Most?"

"Yes. Most," the man repeated, more certain now. "Some of them actually spoke to me. Chief Warren, for one. He’s always been king and eager to talk to commoners like me. Then there was Councillor Balour, he greeted me too." The man hesitated, then added, "And Councillor Auren."

Edward’s eyes sharpened, a flicker of recognition flashing across his features. "Councillor Auren?" he repeated slowly.

"Yes," the man said quickly, eager to be of use. "He’s always been kind to people from common beginnings like myself. He and the chief... they grew up together. Rose to power side by side. I heard they both even competed for the position of a Chief. Apparently it was a close race, but Warren won. Still, they remained close."

Edward stood silent, letting the words settle like dust after a collapse. His mind flashed back to the tall man with long black hair, the one who had approached him during the banquet. The one who drank calmly, unbothered by the Chief’s death, while everyone else cast aside their cups in fear. The one whose smile had never reached his eyes.

If this Councillor Auren was indeed the same man, then the threads were beginning to weave together. A childhood friend, a rival in power, a guest who remained composed during the chaos.

Edward’s jaw tightened.

Motive. Opportunity. Behavioural signs.

Things started to line up, and the person at the center of it all was Councillor Auren.