They called for the medicine man immediately to rid Bass' stomach of whatever was left in there churning around. It was a good thing it had been more concentrated, any more potent and it could've had damaging effects on Bass' internal organs.

It was too soon to say he felt as good as new, but he could at least think a little clearer and his eyes weren't coated in a fog. His head still hurt like a son of a bitch though. Luckily Charlie, or whoever the hell, didn't cause too much damage.

Could it have really been Charlie? Really?

She was strong, yes; he saw that occasionally and was on the receiving end of one of her punches before, there was no denying she could pack a punch. She was fast, and smart. He would give her all of that, but could she have really gotten the upper hand. Against him? He had years of experience, and was a damn good fighter. Plus he had weight on his side, much more than Charlie could say.

Maybe it was just his ego saying all of these things because he really didn't want to admit that it could've been her. He was drunk beyond comparison. Maybe it was possible.

She had motive, she very well could've hated him. And though she complied readily with him outside on the balcony, he could tell she was less than pleased when he left.

But mad enough to try and kill him? That seemed a bit extreme even for her.

"Sir," the knight's voice prompted him back into the present," what shall I do with her?"

"Do with her?" Miles' angry voice yelled. "You can remove your hands from her is what you can do, before you no longer have any."

Someone had to stay downstairs and entertain the guests after the news was dropped on them, but after Miles didn't see Charlie for awhile, he started to get worried. Kingly duties be damned.

His lip curled into a snarl, the boy flinching back for a moment, before growing a backbone. "I'm afraid I only answer to one king, and that isn't you."

"I don't give a damn who you answer to. I'll cut your miserable tongue out so you can't answer to anyone."

Charlie's blood went cold. She never heard his talk like this. It was a little intimidating.

Bass groaned, barking out orders. "Secure all of the exits. Send a search party out to excavate the woods and surrounding areas to make sure no one left the castle grounds." He turned to Connor, "please assist Queen Rachel in maintaining order through the Great Hall while Miles and I get to the bottom of this."

Hesitation, and something that resembled resentment, passed quickly over Connor's eyes. In the end, he simply nodded his head and promptly exited, though it looked as though he was going to put up a fight.

"And the girl," the young knight prompted again.

Miles dug his nails so deep into the palms of his hands, blood started to gather under the nail bed.

"If you utter one more worthless breath, I'm going to slit your throat where you stand. Bass," Miles snapped, "tell him to remove his hands from Charlie. This is the last warning I'm going to give."

Regardless of his headache and earlier events, Bass couldn't help the fury rising within him. He was sick and tired of being told what to do by Miles.

"Need I remind you, you're in my castle Miles, not Longstead."

Miles' challenging eyes bore holes into Bass'. "I don't give a damn where I am Bass, tell him to take his hands off my daughter or so help me god—"

"You'll what," Bass stood, a little shakily form his chair, advancing towards him.

Miles met him halfway, none of the other knights even attempting to intervene between the two.

"If you throw her in the dungeon again, you'll be affirming to everyone you believe she did it. You're labeling her as an assassin, a killer, and sentencing her to death."

"I never said she did it, but I can't just let the only person who knows something go free. I can't have people thinking I play favorites or am lenient after someone attempted to kill me." Bass snapped his teeth together, never once glancing away from Miles.

Did he think Charlie 100% did it? Well, not entirely, not even a little bit. But what else was he supposed to do? Let her go and make everyone think it was okay to attempt to kill him? That it wouldn't result in punishment or reprimanding?

He had to do something, and keeping her locked up for the time being was the only reasonable option he had. She would be safe down there. There was practically no way out, and no one ever went down there.

"Then let us go over the event in grave detail as you remember it. Perhaps there's something you missed," Miles offered up as a solution.

Charlie immediately began to open her mouth, believing the question was meant for her.

Miles however lightly shook his head, cutting her off before she even had the chance to begin. "Sorry kid, I'm going to have to ask you to remain silent during this. No interjections," his eyes silently pleaded with her, and though Charlie didn't like it, she nodded.

"Bass, what do you remember?"

"Drinking," he deadpanned.

Miles huffed at his apathetic tone. "Yes but what were you drinking?"

Growling, Bass swung his hand out to land on the bottle of wine, perched on his desk. "I think it has been established that there was something unusual in the wine." It pained his to say those words because it was an embarrassment. It made him out to be foolish, how could he not have known? Though to be fair there was neither pungent odor nor repulsive taste evident in the wine.

Still Miles could tell Bass was waging war within himself, so he directed the line of questioning in a different direction. "Do you remember if you fought back? Anything about the person? Physicality, bodily, any distinct smells or sights?"

Reeling from the concoction of wine, the last thing he needed was all of these questions fired at him. Nevertheless, Charlie's life was on the line, just as much as his was. He took a deep breath, inhaling oxygen slowly into his lungs before he could begin processing the details.

"Yes I fought back," Bass declared. "But I can't say for certain I was able to cut anyone with the state I was in."

"I remember a dark hooded cape flashing about in my vision. The door opened with a squeak," he paused momentarily. That could either mean the person was too weak to open the door, or the way it was opened so lightly could've meant they possessed a great deal of strength. It had to be the latter; the door was made of solid metal.

Charlie seemed to be thinking the same thing Bass was. The door. It was made of some of the sturdiest sheets of metal money could buy. And metal was dense, allowing hardly any sound to pass through.

She kept her mouth shut, thankful for Bass who addressed the young knight instead.

"You said you heard commotion? Was it loud?"

He nodded his head, "yes your highness. It was rather loud."

"That door is metal. If you heard something it would've had to have been a quiet whisper almost."

The young knight's face remained blank, "I cannot say for certain the decibel of the sounds coming from behind your door. I only know that it sounded like unusual clattering about. And tis better to be safe than sorry."

That sounded like a load of cow manure if you asked Charlie, and no one else seemed to buy it either.

"Sir," their heads turned to where Baker had rejoined the interrogation. "We've managed to secure to exits and find the person responsible for this. Shall I call for the executioner or the man of law?"

Bass had already begun shaking his head. "No that won't be necessary, I won't be requiring either. I will be handling the matter for myself, it seems you can't trust anyone these days."

He didn't mean for his gaze to skirt over to where Charlie was standing, but involuntarily it did, sending a wave of shock to her very bones. The shock rippled down her spine, chilling bones in its wake, though he didn't look as though he meant any of it.

Baker nodded, "as you wish sir. He will put into a holding cell immediately."

Once Jeremy had exited, offering a sympathetic, but hopeful look to Charlie, Miles stepped closer to Bass. "I think it's very foolish of you to go about handling this yourself. Look at you, you're practically dead on your feet Bass. Interrogations are hard enough when you're mentally and physically up for the task."

"Which is exactly why I'm not going about it alone." He fixated his eyes into Miles' as recognition swept across his features. "You're going to assist me. You know a thing or two about the art of torture."

Charlie couldn't help the shudder that passed over her skin when Bass' low, menacing words sliced through her. At this point, she wasn't surprised by any of it.

Miles looked as though he wanted to protest, but closed his mouth once he followed Bass' gaze. He was looking at Charlie, and Miles could read his thoughts. He couldn't refuse because this man knew something that would clear her name, exonerate her. That in itself was enough motivation, not to mention the fact that the person had cowardly fled and left a young princess to stand for his crime. That made Miles' blood boil.

"What shall we do with the girl, your highness, while you question the suspect?" It was perfectly constructed so that the young knight could adamantly display his sentiments, without outright saying he believed this 'prisoner' wasn't the culprit.

Bass gritted his teeth every time the young man talked. How could he have hired just an arrogant and pompous knight? Still it was a good point, she couldn't be allowed to return to the festivities. And she couldn't stay with the knight here in his chambers, mostly because Bass didn't trust the knight as far as he could throw him.

"She won't be put in the dungeons." Miles affirmed, crossing his arms over his chest in challenge.

"Well if you have a better suggestion, please inform me. Otherwise her only other option is to stand witness during the torture, and somehow I don't think you'd be too pleased to see that," he looked over to Charlie, talking directly to her for the first time.

The truth was, she didn't. She didn't want to see someone painfully tortured, extracting information from his limp, lifeless body. She didn't want to see her father be the one to do it. She didn't want to see Bass conduct the torture either. But most of all, she didn't want to be placed in the dungeons again, left alone.

Miles started to protest, but Bass held up a hand. "I'll let Charlotte decide, but those are the two options. That's the only way I know how to be just, fair, and sensitive to your request Miles."

Charlie's quiet voice rang out, "I'll go." Dropping her head, she said nothing else, feeling defeated. If she was stronger she would've just chosen to await in the dungeon, but the silence was suppressing, deafening, and cruel.

Bass motioned for her to be released, snarling a bit when the young knight didn't look as though he wanted to comply.

Once she was free, her head snapped up to Bass' immediately before going over to where her father stood. He didn't look at her as he turned his back, going towards the door.

Bass however got a good glimpse at her arm. Turning to one of the knights on guard, he snapped, "Question everyone at the party. I want to know if anyone saw what happened to Princess Charlotte's arm. And if you find the perpetrator, take him outside and execute him."

He turned back to her, waiting for her feet to scurry across the floor, trailing behind her father down towards the dungeons.

Her mind started to play flashes of memories as she walked. Remembering the smell of death and lifelessness that floated through the stale dungeon air. The feel of the stagnant, chilly, frightening air that ghosted across her skin. It all hit her, overloading her senses as she followed behind. She could perfectly remember the torture devices that infiltrated her mind the first time she was there.

She didn't want to look at the person in the chair, afraid it would feel too real, but she couldn't help her curious eyes. Panning up the man's body, her eyes settled in on his fixated gaze, staring blankly ahead.

He never once answered any question asked of him. Not even something as basic and simple as his name, which infuriated Bass enough to send a punch to the guy's face, blood spurting out.

Charlie winced the first time his fist made contact with the fragile frame of the guy, but after that she held her tongue and repressed every shudder and flinch that threatened to spill onto her body.

After a few minutes of relentless punches, they switched to different tactics. A wooden circular object was exposed and clamped around the guy's neck, forcing him to hold his staggering head up or face the piercing pain of wood being jabbed into the column of his neck. His head wobbled, wood breaking the surface of the skin as blood trickled down, but neither Bass nor Miles noticed.

"What's your name?" Miles took over, seeing Bass waiver a bit, before standing perfectly erect.

"C-c-claren-ce," the guy's voice broke on every letter painfully pronounced from his dry, scratchy throat.

"Clarence, and why are you here Clarence?"

"For p-party," he choked out, refusing to say anything else.

Miles was losing his patience quickly. Nothing seemed to be working, not fast enough for results; he was never one for patiently waiting. "Fetch me the pilliwinks," he barked at one of the knights, hovering by the door.

Charlie's blood curdled. She knew exactly what that was, a thumbscrew, though she had never seen it in person nor used.

Immediately one returned with a device used for crushing the fingers and toes of the accused. This one was smaller than others she had been told about, those were capable of snapping elbows and kneecaps. She was even told once of one big enough for a head to be crushed. Now was not the time to be thinking of that though.

The man's shoes were removed, chucked aside as his big toe was placed snugly between the device as Miles bent down.

"Why were you here?"

The man said nothing.

Ever so slowly, Miles began twisting the clamp, not once batting an eyelash when the man hissed out in pain. He stopped the ministration. "Why were you here?"

Again he started, not stopping until the screw made contact with the toe, crunching loudly as the sound carried around the room, surrounding them with his cries. The nail of his toe snapped lightly under the pressure.

"My company wa-ass requested," the guy bellowed out.

"By who?"

When he said nothing, Miles started again, twisting and twisting, the pressure building up inside until the man snapped, screaming out when blood started to pool and the bones of his big toe collapsed.

Charlie looked away momentarily, repressing the bile inching its way up her throat. Bass got a chance to look at her while her back was turned. There were no other indications of her struggling, besides her retreated back. She was a lot stronger than anyone gave her credit for, but still not strong enough to kill.

The man refused to answer anything else, forcing Miles to move on to his other big toe, then start going down the line, one by one, until Bass had enough. It was exhausting watching and hearing the guy whine and whimper. His head had about all it could handle.

"Enough, I can't take anymore of this pathetic display." He stepped in, relieving Miles of his duty, which he was grateful for.

Torturing and interrogation took a lot out of a person, but it also brought out a lot in a person. It magnified and amplified all their bad qualities, bringing them to the surface. He did what was necessary for his daughter's safety, but wouldn't everyone say the same of the things they did, the crimes they committed. There could always be an excuse or explanation that would rationalize the action, but to what extent?

Removing his sword from its sheath at his side, Bass made small, deliberate incisions along some of the major arteries, blood splattering to the ground, collecting like puddles of rain in a freshly dug moat.

Charlie turned back around once Bass took over. She thought it would be easier to see him carry out the rest of the inquisition, but it wasn't any easier. If anything it was harder. Bass was different; she was always on opposite sides of the drawbridge when it came to her feelings towards, and about him.

Once a sufficient amount of blood had been drained, leaving the man just lucid enough to feel every little thing, but not enough to resist, Bass spoke again. "Who requested your company? I'm a very impatient man, but for you I'd be willing to stand here for eternity and watch as you slowly regain consciousness only to have it ripped away like flesh from your bones. Death will seem sweet before I'm done with you. It'll seem a merciful act, which you would gladly beg for, and I might be more compassionate if something useful came out of your mouth. Other than pathetic moans and shrills."

The man said nothing.

"Suit yourself." Bass unbound the ropes, Miles instantly moving towards him to help maneuver the guy onto a long wooden tabletop. His body started convulsing as they strapped a restraint around his midsection, ankles, and wrists. Still he continued to thrash about, muttering loud moans of protests, screaming about how he didn't know anything.

"Send for the lead sprinkler," Bass gruffly yelled out.

This was something Charlie had no knowledge about. The only way she was able to access information about torture was from word of mouth through the knights, but they weren't always the most sociable bunch. Nor did they get the impression that they were allowed to release all of this revolting information to Charlie, being a princess and all. And Aaron definitely wasn't any help in this department. Their lessons skipped right over torture; Aaron was barely able to stomach a splinter.

A knight came back with an object and a container of what Charlie assumed was the liquid lead. Stream rose from the liquid, bubbles popping erratically as the container was placed gently upon the ground.

Slowly, Bass allowed the liquid to sprinkle down from the device in his hand, landing on the guy's bare skin. The first time it made contact his body shot up as though possessed by a demon, lead scorching his skin as it slid down his body.

Bass' eyes twinkled, reflecting the glow of the lead as he watched it drip onto the flesh, eroding it away. "Who sent you?"

The onslaught continued with every unanswered question, cries growing louder and louder.

Blood came seeping out of the man's teeth from where he had practically bitten his whole tongue off. "Even if…I told you…not believe me."

"The only way to find out is to tell me."

The object filled with the molten lead hovered over the guy's eye for a second, awaiting an answer. Charlie held her breath, silently praying for him to say something.

When it looked as though he wasn't going to answer, Bass let a few drops invade the pupil of his eye that was clamped forcefully open. His howls were so loud they shook the ground and the cavity of Charlie's chest as she felt it clench. Her breath came out in ragged, shallow puffs.

"Twas the princes…the P-p-rince."

"What?" Bass' voice barked out, staggering, sloshing a few drops of lead onto the guy. "Prince who? Prince Connor? You're telling me my son is the one who did this? You're lying and I will have you hanged, drawn and quartered. Then all those split body parts will be sent to every loved one you possess."

"Bass you can't kill the guy if you want answers."

He turned on Miles, letting the long object slap against the floor, barely dodging the lead. "I don't need anymore of his type of 'answers.' It's blasphemous, ignorant lies about my son—"

"You didn't have a problem convicting Charlie—"

Bass growled, "That's not true I never convicted her. Don't you dare manipulate my words Miles. I never outright accused Charlie. I said that I was king and had to do the just, right thing."

"Which would be to simply ask your own son." Charlie's voice slithered in, putting distance between their livid bodies.

Bass turned a stern finger towards her, "mind your tongue Charlotte."

"No," she shook her head, raising her chin in defiance. "I refuse to sit back and endure any more of this. You wanted a name and he gave you own, and now since you're not satisfied—"

"I'm not satisfied with lies," venom hit her in the face as he spat. His body encroached into her personal space, forcing her to back up against the perimeter of the cell.

"Connor lied," she suddenly blurted out. She continued when he looked at her curiously. "When he said that he didn't know I was cut during the dance. He did know. I don't know why he lied, but I also know it would make no sense for him to lie about a trivial thing such as that. The only thing it did was incriminate me further. I don't know why he did it, but neither do you, so the right thing to do would be to ask."

Bass grew tired of hearing her talk about it because she was right. Just because she was right though didn't make it any easier on him. He would have to interrogate his own son, all but asking if he was the only who wanted him dead. Of course, happened he done something similar with Charlie? He never came out and asked her, but he didn't automatically take her side either, which was what he should've done. His gut instinct told him immediately it wasn't Charlie. She looked like a viable candidate, but his gut told him it wasn't her. He didn't know if he could say for sure about Connor, and that tore at his weak heartstrings.

Striding past her, he didn't miss the way she shivered as his body grazed against hers.

"Send all the people away, thank them for coming, and send for Connor."