Chapter 8：Even the King Can't Restrain You Now

Joanna's words were a shard of ice driven into Cedric's heart. His mind flooded with the horrific image: Joanna, helpless in the filthy water, fighting for air while laundress hags cackled on the bank like carrion crows.

A raw, hollow ache bloomed beneath his ribs. He wanted to speak, to roar, but his throat was frozen shut. Only when the chamber door sealed, cutting off Joanna's retreating back, did the spell break.

"Milady! Whimper-whimper-whimper!" Jade's pathetic sniveling clawed at his raw nerves.

Cedric shot her a glare sharp enough to draw blood. "Stop bawling and fetch the physician, now!"

Jade scrambled away. Cedric carried Elena to the Snow Blossom Pavilion. Viola arrived with the Manor physick just as he settled her. While the physick attended Elena behind the thick brocade curtains, Viola pulled Cedric into the antechamber.

"What happened? How could Elena fall? Did… did Joanna…?" Viola's whisper held venomous suspicion.

"Mother!" Cedric's voice snapped like cracking ice. "Joanna saved her." The statement hung heavy. He turned his stormy gaze towards Jade, hovering nearby, nursing her cheek. "You. Step forth."

Jade knelt instantly. The violent red blotch marring her face was impossible to ignore, turned deliberately towards Viola.

Viola gasped. "Merciful saints! Girl, what befell your face?"

Jade stayed mute, casting terrified glances at Cedric.

Cedric studied her, a predator assessing weakness. "Do you bear Joanna Nyle a grudge?"

Jade's head snapped up. "N-No! Never, my Lord!"

"Then why," Cedric's voice dropped into glacial darkness, "do you ply the poison blade of false witness?" The logic was brutally clear. Joanna wasn't a fool – harming Elena in her own courtyard, under countless eyes? And this snake… she'd arrived moments after him, yet instantly pointed the finger. Just like three years ago. A chill, deeper than winter, seeped into his bones.

Jade felt the icy dread of the executioner's shadow. One misstep meant a slow, painful death. Her mind raced. "I… I just feared for my lady!" she wailed, pouring on the frantic devotion. "I couldn't bear to think her wronged!"

"Your lady?" Cedric sneered, icy fury dripping from the words. "Or is the serpent's command spoken in her voice?" Was Elena the poison source?

"N-Not my lady! Never!" Jade denied frantically, realizing her tactic had backfired spectacularly. She'd meant to stir Cedric's pity, not drag Elena into the mud.

A frail, desperate voice pierced the tension from behind the curtains. "Jade… Jade!"

Elena's call, trembling and weak, was a masterstroke of vulnerability. Cedric felt the volcanic rage within him cool, quenched by that pitiful sound. He leaned close to Jade, his breath a frost-laden whisper promising torture. "Next time the lie crosses your lips, I'll carve out your tongue myself and feed it to the kennel hounds. Now crawl back to your mistress."

"Y-Yes, my Lord!" Jade scrambled away like a roach fleeing light.

Viola exhaled sharply, disapproval etching her face. "How could you accuse Elena? You know her nature!"

Cedric met her eyes, a flicker of deep disappointment surfacing. "Mother," his voice was weary, "did you know… Joanna can swim?"

Viola blinked. "Swim? But… she nearly drowned at Ravensmere years ago!"

Exactly. She couldn't swim. Until she was thrown into a washing tank like refuse and held under. Held down. Prodded.

What despair drowned her then? Where was I? The 'brother' sworn to protect her? The shame was suffocating.

He offered no answers. He simply turned and strode out.

"Cedric!" Viola cried out behind him. "Where are you going?"

"The Palace." The words were chips of ice.

Viola paled. A swift, hidden signal to her head attendant. "Message Consort De. Now!"

——

Cedric Vane kicked the Royal Steamworks gate off its hinges.

Inside, chaos froze mid-act. Three burly washerwomen were dragging a thin, petrified girl towards one of the vast, steaming scouring tanks. They meant to drop her in.

In that desperate victim, Cedric saw only Joanna.

This. This is how they treated her.

The Matron, recognizing silverwood's heir in his fury, rushed forward. "My Lord Vane! How—" Her curtsy was cut short.

Cedric ignored her. He strode past, a storm made flesh. He grabbed the two nearest women. Without pause, without ceremony, he threw them. They landed with twin shrieks amidst the filthy, scalding slurry.

The matron squawked. "My LORD! What outrage—?!"

Air rushed past her as Cedric seized her thick waist. She too sailed through the filthy air, plunging into the tank. Disgusting water flooded her mouth.

Methodically, mercilessly, Cedric hurled woman after woman into the churning filth. The first few tried clambering out, desperate. Cedric snatched a long, heavy rinsing pole leaning against a vat.

He swung.

Thwack!

The wooden pole connected with brutal force against a shin bone. A sickening crack echoed. A scream cut short as the woman fainted, collapsing back into the foul water.

Silence descended, broken only by terrified sobs and the churning water. No one dared move. No one dared breathe loudly. Drenched and weeping, they stood petrified in their sludge bath.

Pathetic. The word burned him.

But was Joanna's whimper any less pitiful? Did they spare her tears? The fury reignited, hotter, purer.

The Matron, half-submerged, gasped. "My Lord! We know your wrath stems from… her. But a mongrel bears its master's badge! We serve the Crown! His Majesty's displeasure—"

Cedric swung the pole again. It whistled past the Matron's ear, close enough to feel the wind. He laughed, the sound colder than the Deadfrost wind. "Dare you hide behind the throne?"

"A rather impressive display of wrath, Lord Vane."

The voice sliced through the chaos – cultured, serene, carrying an undercurrent of profound authority. It washed over the stinking Steamworks like snowfall over a midden heap.

Imperial Highness.