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Chapter Twenty-Five: Damned and Divine

"So, the plan is to enter through the sewers and hope for the best," Bruno repeated, walking next to Lance, a hand resting on his sword. The high walls of Blackthorn loomed ahead.

Lance nodded, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. Although the sun had long since dipped beyond the horizon, it was a humid night and a bothersome one too. Pesky little flies had decided to follow them back towards Blackthorn and every time they landed on your skin, the bugs would vomit. This would cause the skin to start itching. An itch so bothersome, you would continue to scratch until it bled.

"Yes," Lance replied. "Lorelei can use her powers to create a distraction. It'll lure the guards away and we'll be able to sneak past them into the courtyard. The bulk of the guards will be busy trying to douse the flames."

"This sounds all well and all, but how exactly are you going to be able to tell where the guards are positioned? They could be at the barracks or on patrol," Bruno said with a frown. "You might've been the commander of the knights for some time, but I don't think that grants you sight."

"No, I'm not the commander of the knights. I'm something more than that."

Bruno glanced at him an eyebrow raised. "What do you mean?"

Lance hesitated, unsure. Bruno might've had empathy for the mage's plight, but did that extend to werewolves too? "My grandfather kept a secret from me. A well-kept one. You know all those symptoms I was getting every month? Part of a curse that runs in my father's bloodline."

"Curse?"

"My father is a werewolf. That man we came across at the bandit camp. He's one of them," Lance explained, studying Bruno's expression. The man had served under him for many long years. Would he be frightened?

"Oh," Bruno replied tonelessly, as if unsure of how to best respond. "A werewolf. That's how you always seemed to have the advantage in the training drills. Always thought you were taking something," he said with a grin.

"It doesn't concern you?"

Bruno shook his head. "I've known you for a long time, Lance. You haven't given me a reason to kill you. Have you thought much about it though? I mean… You want to retake Blackthorn and claim control of the throne. People are going to eventually notice."

Lance shrugged. "I haven't given it much thought really. You're not the first person to ask me how I'm going to deal with it all." Werewolves were considered an enemy of Blackthorn. His grandfather had made that clear. "I won't say anything. Not yet. Not until after the war is over. People have enough reason to be afraid and uncertain."

"It's not something you'll be able to hide forever."

"I'll manage." It wasn't as if he had to tell anyone where he was spending his nights.

"Do you think Lyra will be okay?" Bruno said.

Lance nodded. "It's took risky to bring her here, especially since the guards are probably still looking for her. She will be fine." The girl had wanted to come along, but without knowing how to use her faerie magic, it was too risky to bring her. "Well, this is it."

He looked ahead. The entrance to the secret passageway was camouflaged well in the dirt at the base of the wall. Most people would just walk right over the trapdoor and not even notice there was something there. Lance ensured there'd be plenty of dirt covering this section of the wall to best conceal the door. Not that it really mattered if anyone found it. They'd still need the key to unlock the other end or have tools powerful enough to break the door down. It was best just to conceal the entrance.

Lance dropped to his knees right at the corner and cleared the dirt, looking for a slight opening in the ground. His fingers traipsed through the dirt until he found the crack that would allow him to lift the door open.

Bruno peered over his shoulder, casting his shadow over him. "Huh. Didn't even know this existed. Could've made it a bit easier to leave the city."

Lance lifted the door and pulled it back. "We need to move quickly."

Lorelei sighed. "I can't believe I'm walking right into anti-mage territory."

"We're doing the right thing. I need to take back the city," Lance said, as she climbed down the ladder. Bruno and Lyra followed. Lance descended the rungs last. Once Lance had reached the bottom of the ladder, he grabbed one of the unlit braziers and held it out before Lorelei.

"I can conjure a flame, but I won't be able to hold it long so hopefully this passage doesn't go on for too long," Lorelei said. She brought her free hand to the brazier and tapped it a few times, before pulling her hand away. A flame appeared. She held it out before her lighting up the path ahead.

"Ugh, what is that stench?" Bruno complained, pinching his nostrils.

"There's no light down here. Moss grows. Rats live here too. Contributes to the smell," Lance explained. "It was originally designed to be used for sanitation purposes, but my ancestors decided to use it as an escape route for the royal family. Protect the bloodline. You know how royals are. Legacy first before anyone else. Useful during invasions if things aren't going so well."

"I guess we're lucky then. Does anyone else know about it? Clair?" Bruno said.

Lance shook his head. "No. Women are excluded from security talks. Grandfather thought such things weren't for a woman to hear," Lance replied, walking along the path, hearing the scurrying of rats running past.

"We don't have to worry about anyone waiting for us on the other end," he added.

"That is a relief then," Bruno answered. "I'd rather avoid conflict as much as possible. There's something about killing men I once served alongside with that rubs me the wrong way." Silence fell. All present were focused on the task ahead. They walked past some skeletal remains of a rat before finally reaching the other end. There was another ladder to ascend. Bruno climbed up first and pushed open the lid. No key was required for this side. Lance was the last to climb up.

Excluding his stallion and Clair's mare, the stable was empty. The water tray was half empty. No one had come by to check on the horses since he had last been here. Lance approached the animal whom in turned rubbed his head against Lance's arm and made a soft neighing sound. He stroked the horse on his head.

"I'll send Joey down later to attend to the horses," Lance said, looking around the stables. Bits and pieces of hay lay strewn across the ground. Water needed to be filled and more haybales were needed. The stables themselves needed to be cleaned and the hay changed. What had Clair been doing?

"Your cousin hasn't been doing much," Bruno noted.

"A lot has happened since the passing of Prince Benga."

"But to forget to tend to your own horse? Clair loves her mare."

Lance shrugged. "The city was in lockdown. Everyone was under suspicion of murdering the prince. The place has become unsettled." He pulled away from his horse, and closed his eyes focusing on the sounds outside. Shallow breathing. Conversation. Footsteps. A dog barking. Guards were nearby. He caught s few parts of their conversation. Death of Erika at the hands of Clair. No sighting of Edward Blackthorn. He opened his eyes again. "There are guards walking past. We should do oud best to remain as discreet as possible."

"Right." Lorelei headed towards the exit and slowly opened the door, just wide enough to get a glimpse of the outside. "Some of the houses across the street have thatched roofs. We could set them alight on fire," she said, glancing over her shoulder, her gaze with meeting with Lance's own.

He nodded. "Do what you think is best. Just be quick about it."

Lorelei raised a hand through the opening in the door. Her hand turned red, a tiny ball of flame emerging from her palm. Lance and Bruno kept their distance and looked on. Embers floated through the air and towards the thatched roof. They were so small no one seemed to notice that is until the embers landed on the roof, setting it alight on fire. Within seconds the fire spread, and a plume of smoke rose in the air.

"By the grace of Arceus! That roof is on fire!"

"It's a sign from the heavens! We must repent for our sins!"

"Quick! Put out the flames and sound the alarm!"

Lorelei looked back. "It's done. Go now before the flames die."

"Head to the tavern," Bruno said. "I'm come for you when the castle has been taken. Stay safe." Lorelei kissed him on the cheek then exited the stables. With the smoke creating a haze, it would be difficult to spot them.

Lance waited several moments for the girls to disappear before turning to Bruno. "We have to move." He poked his head around the corner. His keen senses told him the knights were busy tending to the flames. The clouds had become blacker, the stench of burning straw intoxicating. He covered his nose with his hand, his eyes starting to sting from the ash. "Now before the entire city is alerted."

The fire pulled the attention of the knights who guarded the gates. With the knights distracted by the fire, Lance and Bruno were able to sneak past into the courtyard, undetected. More knights were stationed around the castle entrance, dressed in heavy chainmail, their swords at their sides.

Bruno withdrew his sword. "I hope you are confident about this. These are your own men."

"Whatever it takes to retake the city."

He poked his head around the gate. Four knights in total all looking in their direction. The courtyard itself was bland. Some castles had tidy gardens before the entrance of the keep. Edward preferred to keep the inner castle grounds clean of clutter claiming bushes and ornaments only made it easier for assassins to conceal themselves better. Lance withdrew his sword and walked straight up the centre of the courtyard towards the knights. "And it begins," he murmured.

The knights approached them, their blades drawn and helms down. "Stand down," one of the knights ordered, raising his blade, and pointing the tip towards him.

Lance recognized the man. Siebold. "I do not answer to you."

The man gave him a shrewd look. "Clair is Queen of Blackthorn."

"My grandfather still lives. Clair hasn't been officially sworn in. She is not queen as long as my grandfather still breathes."

Siebold lowered his blade. "You've been deemed as a traitor of the city. You turned your back on the queen. You defended a suspect. That makes you liable for punishment, Lance. You can turn yourself over now and your punishment will be fair. Refuse and die."

Bruno snorted. "He's certainly got quite the ego."

"I refuse to kneel to a false leader."

"Then die on your knees," the man spat, leading the charge.

Lance parried the first blow then kicked the shin of the first attacker, managing to make the man stumble backwards. His companion roared and swung his sword. Lance stepped back to avoid the swing then retaliated, throwing himself at the soldier with enough force to knock him over onto the ground. He landed on his backside, his helm loosening and coming off. Before the knight could recover, Lance straddled his waist and pinned him to the ground, a single hand on his chest. "I don't want to kill you," he said, his voice low. "I am not your enemy." In the corner of his eye, he saw Siebold charge.

Bruno stepped in the way and parried the swing. Steel met with steel. "If these knights want to fight us, then let them!" Bruno exclaimed. The man had been hesitant earlier, but now that he was in the fight, adrenaline encouraged him to continue.

Lance kept his gaze on the knight pinned beneath him.

"…We have orders," the man said in between gasps.

"And I'm trying to save this city from itself. Don't become a casualty before the true battle begins."

"…You're a traitor to the crown. Traitors must be stopped."

Lance placed at the tip of his blade of the knight's sternum. Clair had called him a traitor? "As long as my grandfather still breathes, Clair cannot be the Queen of Blackthorn regardless of what she says. By serving Clair you are betraying the king."

"The king is dead."

Lance shook his head, applying more pressure just enough to puncture a small hole in the skin. "Have you seen the man yourself? No? Then he's not dead. I won't believe it until I see him for myself." If the man had truly died, then why would Clair keep it a secret? It was no secret she and grandfather didn't see eye to eye. She would make his death public. No. He was still alive, but incapable of sitting on the throne. "You have a choice. Renounce Clair as your queen or die."

"I will not serve a traitor," the man spat.

So, Clair had claimed the throne for herself and convinced the soldiers that Lance was a traitor too. What madness had possessed her? "Then you will die. Better to die at my hands than from what is to come." Lance drove his blade into the man's neck. Blood seeped from the wound, costing his blade with red.

The other two knights stepped back. Siebold clambered to his feet. "What are you doing? Attack!"

"Don't give me a reason to strike you down, Siebold."

Siebold spat at his feet, removing the helm. He threw it on the ground. "You abandoned Clair, but I have been here for her."

"Speaking poison into her ears, no doubt," Lance retorted.

"I am caring for her."

Lance gave a sardonic laugh. "Did you convince her to deem me a traitor? Or do you hope to claim her hand in marriage to find your way into a position of importance?" He paused and lowered his blade and added, "You won't lay a single hand on her. I don't know words have transpired between you, but your communication with my cousin will end today."

"I don't take orders from you," Siebold scowled.

Siebold lunged, swinging his sword, attempting to catch Lance off guard with sudden movement. Lance raised his sword in time to block the blow and held his ground, pushing back. Uttering a small cry, Siebold pulled back and held his blade before him in a defensive manner. He was waiting for Lance to make a move. Knowing they were wasting time, Lance charged and swung with all his might. His sword clashed with Siebold's and the man stumbled backwards and over onto his backside.

Lance placed his sword at his neck. "I must protect my family from you. Arceus knows what else you've told Clair and helped her to do during my absence, but it ends now. You'll be left to rot in the dungeons." He pulled back his blade and returned it to its sheath. "I'm entering the castle. Bruno, find him a cell. I'm going to deal with Clair."

Lance walked up to the doors, pushed them open and entered.

.

His head throbbed. His body ached. Every muscle hurt. Uttering a groan, Morty opened his eyes, wincing as a spasm of pain erupted in his head. The room was dimly lit, and the air was thick and stunk of death. He forced himself up from the ground. The bottom floor of the Burned Tower. The place where the weak of faith were sent.

He immediately moved a hand to his weapon only to find it wasn't there. Glancing down, he noticed his clothing had been removed, and his weapons too. Humiliation. Vulnerability. Lessons Naoko had wanted him to learn. Although there were no other people around, he still tried to find something to cover himself up with. No such luck. There was nothing but bones of people and rats. Nothing useful.

He gazed up at the gaping hole. The light. His escape. But there was no way to reach the light. It was well beyond his reach. No ladders. No rope. Nothing he could climb. Descend into madness until he was begging for Naoko. To show regret. Beg for mercy. Submit to her rule. To become that mindless soldier once more with no concept of free will.

"Why did you forsake me?" he said helplessly, as if expecting an answer from the silent god. "Have I not done everything you asked?"

"You can keep asking for help, but only silence will greet your words."

He spun around. A voice from the shadows. He squinted into the darkness, waiting for his eyes to become accustomed. There, a woman with orange hair sitting in the corner of the room, her knees drawn close to her chest. "I'm not going to die down here." Instinctively, he covered himself with a hand.

The woman laughed, but there was no humour in her tone. "You don't get to choose. I've been down here for a week. They give me scraps. Throw pebbles at me. Mock me. I'm not even a mage. Just a person who came too close." She wiped her eyes. "You think people escape? No. They don't. I saw someone else die. Two weeks they lasted before they died of infection. Their fate will be ours too," she said, tilting her head towards the opposite corner.

"I'm well aware of what happens down here." He turned his head. A pile of bones. The flesh had been devoured by rats and other bugs. The clothing had been taken from the guards. Only when a person died did Naoko have people clean up the mess. He shifted his attention back to her. "Your fate. Not mine."

"You believe your god will save you? What makes you so special? All your years of faith and yet are abandoned and left to die in a cesspit of sin," she replied tersely.

She was right. How had his faith rewarded him? Years of service and he had gained nothing. Curling his fingers into fists, he said through clenched teeth, "I have no reason to listen to you." Why was he even bothering to talk to this insignificant woman? He had never met her before. She would die in a few days.

"I suppose you justify your punishment. A trial from your god to overcome."

"What of it?"

"We're here to die. No one cares." She climbed to her feet, unafraid to stand before him exposed. Miscoloured spots covered her body, and a poor diet only made her bones more prominent. The girl was unsteady on her feet, and sickly pale too. Yet, she managed to walk towards him without toppling over, her full breasts bouncing with each step.

He felt heat pour through him. A physical reaction to her naked form. It wasn't often he had a chance to indulge in the simple pleasures of the flesh. "Keep your distance," he warned, a hand raised. "You're diseased."

She stopped. "Does it matter? We're going to die here anyway."

"I'd be more concerned about yourself."

She sighed. "Your faith is admirable. I only wish my conviction were as strong as yours." Again, she moved closer, reaching out to grab his arm.

He pulled his arm free. "I told you to keep your distance."

"It's been so long since I got to touch someone else. To feel the warmth of another person against my own skin. Perhaps I am being punished for rejecting his offer. He wanted to marry me, but I turned him down. I wasn't going to marry someone who worked at a tavern." She forced a laugh. "Gary Oak is his name. I wonder if he ever thinks of me now?"

Gary. The tavern owner at Blackthorn. The man who had retrieved the sceptre. "I don't care about the life you had before you ended up here." He wished he were in Blackthorn now. An odd thought to want to return to the city he once despised.

"When you spend a whole week down here in the dark you end up with a lot of time to reflect on your life choices," she murmured. Again, she grabbed his arm, and pulled him towards her. She moved her head close and tried to lick his face. "I just want you to indulge in my dreams. It's all I can ask for before Yveltval brings me under."

He didn't move, temporarily lost in the moment of human contact. It was only when he felt her other hand brush up against his thigh that he jumped. "Stop it," he snapped, batting her hand away.

She chuckled and pulled back. "Afraid of a woman. Religious, are you?"

Ignoring the girl, Morty glanced up at the light, desperate for an escape. But there was nothing. His shoulders slumped and he dropped to his knees, his head down and eyes squeezed shut. Helplessness overcame him. The girl was right. What could be done to escape this place? Only death would allow him to escape this prison. Even if he managed to escape, Naoko would sacrifice him on the altar.

"It's not that bad, really," the girl said. "You don't have to suffer anymore. Close your eyes and death will come eventually. The pain will subside. There'll be peace."

He opened his eyes again and gazed upwards once more. "I was your faithful servant!" he called out to no one. "It can't end like this." Never had he felt so powerless before. Never had the darkness felt so unsafe. For once, he craved the light, seeking its warmth. Arceus's divine light. He almost laughed from the absurdity of it all. Perhaps he was already beginning to lose his mind.

"Just give up. Fighting it will only make the pain worse."

Surrender to death. To give up the fight. Allow Naoko to walk free and unscathed.

"Shut up!" he snarled, glaring in the girl's direction.

She jumped, startled by his sudden change in tone. "You're going to draw their attention."

"Who is they?"

She climbed to her feet and raised a trembling hand. "Them."

A fierce hiss caught his attention. Turning his head to the left, he spotted a purple cobra slithering towards them. An arbok. The snakes commonly lived in dark places. His yelling must've awakened from its sleep. "Have there always been arbok down here?"

The arbok stood erect and hissed, revealing its forked tongue and rows of sharp fangs.

"They come and go through the tunnels in the ground."

He eyed the snake warily. The arbok hissed. "Easy there, I don't want to have to kill you."

"The snake won't listen. It's agitated," the girl pointed out.

Again, the snake hissed. Morty backed away slowly, keeping his gaze fixated on the snake.

"Don't move a muscle."

"Wasn't planning too."

The arbok slowly lowered its head back to the ground. Instead of retreating into the shadows, the snake slithered towards him, as if testing him to see if he'd try to run. He remained still. Its tongue flicked in and out, tasting the air. Deciding he wasn't a threat, the arbok turned away and retreated into the corner.

"That's all the excitement I can handle," she muttered, leaning against the wall once more, closing her eyes.

He didn't respond. Still no sign of anyone coming to help. He moved to the opposite side of the basement and sat down, resting his head against the wall. There was nothing else to do but hope someone would come to save him.

.

The castle keep itself was surprisingly empty. He supposed Clair had ordered all the servants to leave as if she feared someone would attempt to take her life. She was paranoid, and her fears would only weaken her further. No one could rule a kingdom by allowing fear to dictate their choices. He wondered if Samuel was still around. Someone had to be watching over Edward Blackthorn aside from Clair.

He didn't have to travel far to find Clair. She was where he expected to find her – sitting on the throne in an empty room, her fingers playing with her hair. She immediately surged to feet when he entered the throne room. A golden sword leaned against the throne. "I thought I told you not to return," she said, her voice low.

"Your threats mean nothing."

A muscle jerked in her jaw. "You killed my men."

"They're not your men."

"I'm the Queen of Blackthorn," she declared indignantly.

Lance raised his arms and gestured to their surroundings. "And where are your loyal servants? You're the queen of an empty hall."

"I can't trust them to keep me safe, Lance. I had to order them away."

"The true enemy is not within our walls, but outside. If you can't trust your servants to keep you safe, then how do you hope to rule? People want a fearless leader. Not one who cowers in the shadows," Lance replied, walking up to Clair, a hand resting on his sword. "I am not here to fight with you. I simply seek to protect this city."

"You know about the necromancers." He gestured to the sword. "You have a blade near you."

"A gift. It was Henry Blackthorn's sword, you know. Morty found it. Don't you think it suits me more?" She smiled, but the edges of her mouth did not meet her eyes.

"You don't know how to fight."

"But it's a golden sword. Henry's special sword."

Lance frowned. "What happened to you, Clair?"

She pointed a finger at him. "I was forced to marry a man I did not love. To move to another place – a foreign city where I would be unloved and alone. Cruelty, it is! And you – you did nothing to help me," she said through clenched teeth, her eyes blazing with black fire. "The amulet showed me the future. I knew I had to act. So, I did."

"You've plunged this city into chaos. Look around you, Clair! You're alone."

"At least I'm home."

Lance drew in a deep breath. "The amulet. I don't see it."

"I gave it to Morty. What good is a piece of jewellery for a queen?"

"And what good is a sword for a queen that cannot fight her own battles?" he replied curtly.

"The necromancers want me dead. Prince Benga spoke of it. They'll want revenge for the crimes of our family," she replied quietly.

"They want us all dead, Clair. Not just you specifically." Clair hadn't changed much at all. She still believed her life was more valuable than everyone else. "But I can help protect this place from falling. You'll have to relinquish control."

"And give the throne to you?"

He narrowed his eyes. "I don't care about a damn crown, Clair. I care about the people and the future of this city. This goes beyond your personal ambition! Forget about the crown. Forget about the throne. There is a very real danger coming towards Blackthorn and you're not equipped to handle it."

She raised an eyebrow, folding her arms across her chest, giving him a look of scepticism. "And you are?"

Anger poured through him. Uttering a growl, he stormed forward and shoved her into the nearby pillar. Her head smacked against the cool stone, a hiss of pain escaping her lips. She tried to shove her hands into his chest, but he slapped her hands away then grabbed her throat. Immediately, her body went limp in surrender. "Do not attempt to mock me, Clair. The only reason you are still alive now is because you and I are related by blood. If you were somebody else, you'd already be dead," he snarled.

Clair raised her hands to his arm, trying to pull it free from her throat, but he didn't budge. "…Your eyes…" she said, her eyes widening. "…They changed colour."

He released his grip, closing his eyes for a moment, and drew in a deep breath scolding himself. He always had his temper under control. Never let anger consume you and control your thoughts, Edward had often said. Now Clair would be afraid of him. He turned to her again. Her hands were clutching at her throat, as if she could still feel his hand. "Clair."

"Stay away from me," she hissed. She threw her hands forward and backing away slowly, uncertain. The woman was unarmed, but the damage had already been done. "You're one of them… One of those creatures' grandfather feared. One of the wolves I read about in those stories. I always wondered why grandfather didn't want you to marry or have children of your own. Agatha. She said my family was hiding secrets. Now I know what it is."

Lance frowned. "You aren't yourself."

"At least I'm human."

"And I'm still me."

"Except you turn into a wolf every full moon."

He ignored her response. Why was Clair visiting Agatha? She had no reason to. "Why would you visit Agatha?"

Clair shrugged. "Karen's idea. She thinks I should live a little."

Of course. Karen. The snake. That friendship should never have been allowed, but Edward seemed to think Karen was a fine lovely young lady. A suitable friend for Clair. He thought it was good for Clair to have friends with the commonfolk, so she could understand them better. "Karen. Right. She's a viper. What else has she convinced you to do?"

"What are you going to do? Bite her?" Clair retorted. He didn't respond. She sighed. "You were always the favourite. Grandfather wished I were like you. He wanted me to be like you – obedient and modest. I trust grandfather knew what you were really were and he couldn't have you tainting our family name, so he tried hard to mould me into the perfect princess," she added distastefully.

"You rebelled against grandfather's wishes."

Clair snorted, pushing a strand of hair over her shoulder. "Are you not doing the same now? Rebelling against his wishes? He denied you the life you should've had as a wolf. No marriage. No love. Your life was no better than mine. Now you're here trying to take the throne."

"I'm still a Blackthorn., and I have better claim to it than you."

"The people won't trust a wolf."

"And the people won't trust someone who played a role in Prince Benga's death. We know who is responsible for murdering him. Blood magic. A necromancer here in the city pretending to be one of the soldiers," Lance explained then paused to allow information to sink in. "You will await judgement in the dungeon. You tried to put blame on the innocent."

"People that don't even matter," Clair fired back, the fear fading from her eyes. "Lyra's a slave. No one would've questioned it. But you helped her escape and the people wanted someone to blame, so I found three others."

"She's more than that."

"I figured that out. If you're willing to risk your life to save hers then she must be important." Clair paused, a finger twirling around a lock of hair, her bright eyes locked on Lance's own. "You love her. A noble knight infatuated with a servant girl. Grandfather would die of a heart attack if he knew. He'd be more ashamed of that than in me indirectly murdering Prince Benga. You care more about her than you do about me."

Lance tightened his jaw, his hand once more going to his sword. If only she wasn't family. That was the only reason he hadn't stilled her beating heart. He ignored his comment about the possibility of being infatuated. "This isn't about choosing sides, Clair. This is about you making a poor decision that has given me no choice but to stand against you. I'd rather us be fighting on the same side."

"But you'd choose her every time. If it came down to saving either myself of Lyra, you'd save her."

"Of course not."

"I don't believe you. You're saving her instead of supporting my rule."

Lance grimaced. "I don't have to answer that. I won't." He took a step towards her. She instinctively moved back, her eyes darting around the room for something she could use. "You can't harm me, Clair. I'll just heal. You want to live? Stand down."

"And you'll have me face the consequences later. What does it matter what I do next?" she said, trying to sound confident, but her tone faltered. "You don't need me. You made that clear. Do you really think the people will listen to you when they learn what you really are? I could be queen. You could be my advisor. You'd still rule through me."

"You've labelled me a traitor to the kingdom, Clair."

"Only the knights know."

Make Clair the official ruler of Blackthorn, and he would rule through her. It was a solid idea, but it didn't solve all the problems. Morty used blood magic on the poison to kill Prince Benga, but Clair was the one who had given it to him. If Lyra still had a copy of the instructions on creating the poison, then that would be evidence to incriminate Clair of murder. The murder had also happened shortly after their wedding. But he couldn't agree to her plan. It wasn't right.

Lance shook his head. "I'm sorry, but no. I can't. Not everyone knows the truth. But I do know the truth and I won't be able to sleep at night if I allow this to go unpunished. I'll let the mob decide your fate once the war is won."

"Still a knight even after everything. You're a better person than I."

For once, she didn't sound spiteful, but regretful. But her words would not change his mind. "Say what you want. It doesn't change anything, Clair. You're not above the law. I will escort you to the dungeon where you will wait. Pray to Arceus and see if he shows mercy on you. Maybe he will answer if he thinks you're important as you think yourself to be. Start walking." He tilted his head towards the staircase. Clair gave him an incredulous look but started moving. She didn't have a choice.

"I once looked up to you," she murmured, walking ahead of him.

He wanted to stay behind so he could keep her in sight. "And I never thought you'd stoop this low."

"You think the people will listen to a wolf?"

"Just as much as they'd listen to someone who used poison to murder a prince."

Clair snorted. "I liked you better when you were just… you."

"How things have changed."

She didn't speak again. Keeping her head low, she walked down the stairs towards the cells. Her quick surrender caught him by surprise. He had been expecting her to put up more of a fight, but she didn't try. Words were her only weapon and they had failed. He gave her a gentle push to encourage her to move faster. That prompted her to spit at the floor. A temper tantrum. The usual antics Clair displayed when things didn't go her way.

He wanted to sympathize with her plight – but Clair made it difficult for anyone to care. Death was her most likely fate now. The public would demand it. He had to grant them their wishes if he intended to keep the support of the people. The peasants made a city. Rulers were there to maintain and enforce order. He remained tight-lipped. If Arceus truly did exist, would he spare Clair's life?