Chapter 13 - The Dagger in the Red Box
The dagger was placed beneath glass before the court the next morning.
Its blade was short and curved, designed for ceremonial use rather than battle. The royal seal on the handle proved that it had belonged to King Aldric during the year Celestine died.
Varron claimed it was the weapon used to kill the first queen.
“There is blood in the groove,” he said. “The physician can test it.”
Halven examined the blade. “The blood is too degraded for a reliable result.”
“How convenient.”
Aldric stood beneath the witness platform. “I owned the dagger. I do not know how it came to be hidden beneath Solenne’s bed.”
“You used it to threaten Celestine,” Varron said.
“I argued with her. I never raised a weapon.”
“You entered her chamber with the dagger at your belt.”
“As I did every day.”
The court shifted uneasily.
Elara looked at the red box. The wood was polished on one side but burned on the other. It matched the style of the toy horse found in the orphanage.
Tomas noticed it too.
“The box was made by my father,” he said.
Rovan turned. “How do you know?”
“He carved the same sun under his tools.”
The captain lifted the box and examined its underside. A tiny sun had indeed been carved into the wood.
“Darius could have placed it there,” Elara said.
The court demanded that Darius be brought in.
He arrived with his side still bandaged, leaning on a cane. When shown the box, he shook his head.
“I did not hide this beneath the child’s bed.”
“Did you make it?” Aldric asked.
“Yes. For Tomas.”
“What was inside?”
“A toy crown and a letter from Mara.”
“Not a dagger?”
“No.”
Darius looked at the box. “Someone changed the contents.”
“When?”
“After I was taken. The box was in the refuge beneath the lake.”
Everyone turned toward Varron.
The chancellor’s smile faded.
“He had access to the refuge,” Darius said. “He knew the entrance. He could have moved the box.”
“You are protecting the king,” Varron replied.
“I am protecting the truth.”
Halven lifted the dagger with tongs. “There is wax on the handle.”
Rovan leaned closer. “Royal sealing wax?”
“No. Candle wax.”
Elara remembered the house beneath the lake. Darius had kept candles there. Varron had entered with a torch. The dagger could have been placed inside the box during those years.
“The blood may not belong to Celestine,” Halven said. “It may be animal blood or the blood of another person.”
“Then find out,” Varron challenged.
The physician sent the blade to the medical archives for testing. While they waited, Elara asked Lysa about the dream.
The younger princess sat near the window, drawing circles on parchment.
“The woman who hid the box,” Lysa said, “had a ring.”
“What kind?”
“A black stone with a silver line.”
Elara remembered seeing that ring on someone in the palace.
Chancellor Varron wore it during the trial.
But so did Queen Maribel.
“Do you remember the woman’s voice?” Elara asked.
Lysa tilted her head. “She said, ‘If the king asks, you never saw me.’”
“Did she say your name?”
“She called me little moon.”
That was what Celestine had called her in the diary.
Elara returned to the queen’s former chambers. Maribel was under guard, but she had been allowed to collect personal belongings before the trial concluded. Her room was almost empty. A single jewelry box remained on the dressing table.
Inside lay a black-stone ring.
Elara carried it to the court.
Maribel looked at it and closed her eyes.
“You hid the dagger,” Elara said.
“No.”
“Lysa saw you.”
“Lysa was an infant.”
“She remembers your ring.”
Maribel turned toward the child.
Lysa trembled but did not hide.
The queen’s face softened.
“I moved the box,” she said.
The court exploded with voices.
King Aldric took one step toward her. “Why?”
“Because Varron was searching the refuge. I found the box before he did. I took it to the orphanage and hid it beneath Solenne’s bed, where I believed no one would search.”
“Why leave the dagger inside?”
“I did not.”
“Then who did?”
Maribel looked at Varron.
The chancellor rose suddenly.
“You have no proof.”
“I have the truth,” Maribel replied.
Varron pulled a hidden blade from his sleeve and seized a nearby noblewoman. He pressed the knife beneath her jaw.
The guards froze.
“Let me leave,” he demanded, “or she dies.”
The noblewoman cried out. The court recoiled.
Rovan moved slowly to the side. “There is no way out.”
“There is always a way out.”
Varron dragged the hostage toward the side door.
Elara noticed something in his left hand: a small vial.
She remembered the physician’s words about poison.
“He is not trying to escape,” she said.
Rovan glanced at her.
“He wants the vial near the king.”
Varron’s eyes flicked toward her.
That was enough.
Elara ran toward him.
The chancellor shoved the noblewoman aside and lifted the vial, but Rovan struck his wrist. The glass flew through the air.
Maribel caught it.
Varron lunged at her.
Elara stepped between them.
The chancellor’s blade cut her sleeve and stopped against the silver locket at her chest. The impact sent the locket flying from its chain.
Varron reached for it.
Maribel seized his arm. “You will not touch her again.”
Varron shoved the queen to the floor.
King Aldric crossed the room with surprising speed and struck him with the ceremonial staff.
The chancellor fell.
The guards bound him in heavy chains.
The vial was tested. It contained the same poison found in the remains of Celestine’s old wine cup.
The evidence against Varron was now overwhelming.
But the king did not celebrate. He picked up Elara’s locket and examined the damaged hinge.
Something had opened inside it.
A thin piece of paper slid from the silver case.
Elara unfolded it.
The writing belonged to Celestine.
There is one person Varron fears more than the king. If he is exposed, she will come for the throne.
Beneath the words was a name Elara had never seen before.
Lady Ysabet.
The name disturbed Celestine’s old physician more than Varron’s confession had.
“Ysabet was not merely a rival,” Halven said. “She was once the most popular claimant to the throne. When Celestine married Aldric, the succession passed through their children. Ysabet lost power without losing ambition.”
“And she disappeared,” Rovan said.
“She withdrew to the mountains. At least, that is what the court was told.”
Elara picked up the damaged locket. A second compartment had opened when Varron’s blade struck it. Inside was a miniature strip of parchment, so thin that it must have been hidden there at the moment the locket was made.
“My mother knew this name would matter,” Elara said.
Maribel looked at the writing. “Celestine believed Ysabet funded Varron’s first soldiers.”
“Then why did she not expose her?” Aldric asked.
“Because she hoped her sister would stop before blood was spilled.”
Elara thought of all the people who had chosen hope instead of action. Celestine had hoped. Maribel had hoped. Aldric had hoped. While they waited for fear to pass, Varron had used their hesitation to build an empire of secrets.
“We find Ysabet,” Elara said.
“She may be more dangerous than Varron,” Rovan warned.
“Then we find her before she decides what happens to my family.”
The next morning, the royal map room was opened for the first time in a decade. Elara stood over the mountain routes with Lysa beside her. The younger princess placed a finger on the highest ridge.
“There,” she said. “That is where the woman in my dream lived.”
The map showed an old observatory above the clouds.
Lady Ysabet had sent the message before Elara ever opened the locket.
The court wanted the girls hidden until the mountain threat was understood. Elara refused.
“Every time someone hid us, another person gained power,” she told the king. “We will not disappear again.”
Aldric looked at Lysa, who was holding Tomas’s hand. “Then you will travel with guards.”
“We will travel with witnesses.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“It is better.”
The king almost smiled. “You have your mother’s stubbornness.”
“And perhaps your habit of arguing.”
“That is less fortunate.”
Before they left, Elara returned to the grand hall where the queen had slapped her. The marble floor had been scrubbed clean, but she could still hear the echo in memory.
Lysa stood beside her. “Did this happen here?”
“Yes.”
“Were you afraid?”
“Very.”
“What did you do?”
Elara touched the locket. “I stood up.”
Together, the sisters walked out beneath the royal banners, leaving the old court behind them.
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Behind them, the red box remained sealed as evidence. Ahead waited a mountain, a hidden rival, and answers that might change the throne itself. Elara did not know whether she would ever feel ready, but readiness had never been the condition for courage.
The road north was already covered with snow, yet Elara felt the first warmth of hope she had known since Mara’s death.
