Helpless Princess

The King's study was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, the flickering flames casting shifting shadows against the walls lined with leather-bound tomes. The air smelled of aged parchment and beeswax polish.

Seraphina stood before her father, her back straight, her chin tilted upward in defiance despite the tension stiffening her every muscle.

King Alden sat behind the heavy oak desk, his piercing gray eyes never leaving hers. They were the eyes of a man who had ruled for decades, unyielding and sharp as steel.

"We took the longest route," Seraphina began, her voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of frustration. "A path rarely used, known only to those within our court. Yet, we were ambushed. The attackers knew exactly where we would be. This was no coincidence, Father."

The King leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled as he considered her words. "And what do you deduce from that?"

Seraphina's lips pressed into a thin line. "There is a traitor in Arundelle," she said firmly. "Someone feeding information to Verya."

The King's gaze didn't waver. "And why can't the traitor be your servant?" His voice was sharp, almost dismissive. "Too many coincidences surround him, don't you see? Found unconscious, conveniently losing his memory, and now at the center of an ambush? This reeks of a plan—whether by Verya or someone else, we must uncover the truth."

Seraphina's jaw clenched, her patience was fraying. "I interrogated him myself, Father. He knows nothing."

King Alden's expression turned cold. "He will speak—if he fears death."

A flicker of dread twisted in Seraphina's chest, but she forced herself to remain composed. "Do as you see fit, then," she said evenly, though the words tasted like ash on her tongue. Turning on her heel, she left the room, her steps measured even as her mind raced.

-----

The air grew colder as Seraphina descended into the depths of the castle. Marielle followed close behind, her presence a steadying force even as the weight of the moment pressed down on her.

"Your Highness, is this wise?" Marielle asked softly as they neared the dungeon.

"I need to see him," Seraphina replied curtly. "I can't sit idly while—"

The rest of her words were swallowed by the oppressive silence of the dungeon. The narrow stone walls closed in around them, and the faint flicker of torchlight illuminated the grim scene ahead.

Kael was bound to a wooden pole in the center of the room. His head hung low, his dark hair matted with blood. Cuts and bruises marred his face, his breathing shallow and labored. The torchlight reflected harsh shadows on his battered form, emphasizing every wound, every sign of suffering.

Seraphina froze, her stomach twisting at the sight. She took a hesitant step forward, but Marielle's hand shot out, gripping her arm.

"Your Highness," Marielle said, her voice low and urgent. "This is beneath you."

Seraphina didn't respond immediately. Her gaze was fixed on Kael, her heart aching with each shallow breath he took. "Leave me," she said at last, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion.

Marielle hesitated. "I cannot—"

"Leave me," Seraphina repeated, her tone sharp now. She turned to face Marielle, her eyes blazing with an intensity that brooked no argument. "I will handle the interrogation myself."

Marielle bowed her head. "As you wish, Your Highness." She stepped back reluctantly, her footsteps fading as she ascended the stairs.

Once alone, Seraphina moved closer to Kael. Her hands trembled as she crouched before him, her fingers brushing against his bruised cheek. His skin was cold, and the sight of his injuries filled her with a mix of anger and helplessness.

"Kael," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Kael, can you hear me?"

His head lifted slightly, his dark eyes fluttering open. For a moment, their gazes met, and a faint flicker of recognition passed through his pain-clouded expression. "Your Highness," he rasped, his voice barely audible.

"Don't speak," she said quickly, her thumb brushing gently against his cheek. "You're going to be all right. I'll get you out of here—just hang on a little longer."

Kael shook his head weakly, a bitter smile tugging at his bloodied lips. "You don't… have to go against the King for me," he whispered. "I'm… not worth it."

Her chest tightened, a fierce protectiveness rising within her. "You are," she said firmly. "You saved my life, Kael. I won't abandon you."

Before he could respond, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor. Seraphina stood quickly as Marielle reappeared, her face pale and tense.

"The King is returning," Marielle said, her voice urgent. "You must leave now, Your Highness."

Seraphina hesitated, her heart torn. She turned back to Kael, her hand lingering on his cheek for a moment. "I'll come back," she promised softly. "Stay strong."

Kael's eyes held hers before exhaustion overtook him once more.

Reluctantly, Seraphina stepped away and followed Marielle up the stairs.

As they reached the top, the sound of Kael's screams echoed through the dungeon. Each cry was like a blade slicing through her resolve, but she kept walking, her face a mask of impassivity.

Inwardly, though, her fury burned brighter than ever. Her father's will might be absolute, but she would not let this be the end for Kael.