• Throne Room •
Mara's voice laced with genuine concern, continued, "I am truly sorry for the treatment you endured. I have already ordered the guards that took you to the cell the replace themselves in the cell where they brought you out. And the punishment will be served tomorrow in public. No friend of the throne should be subjected to such cruelty."
Her words, however, fell on deaf ears.Obed before her, has his eyes filled with a chilling emptiness, was consumed by a different kind of pain. The princess, despite her empathy, failed to grasp the depth of his suffering. She saw the outward wounds, but not the scars etched deep within his soul.
"My princess," he finally spoke, his voice hoarse with emotion, "that is not my concern, what the guards did is not my problem at all. My problem is not their cruelty, but the fact that I opened the room Ruth showed me that it's my sister's room, only to find my sister...murdered. In cold blood." His voice cracked, tears welling in his eyes. He couldn't articulate the depth of his grief, the raw agony that ripped through him. His sister, his only remaining connection to the world, was gone.
The princess, upon hearing his words, stood abruptly from her throne. Her face, once filled with concern, now reflected shock and disbelief. She approached him, her gaze searching his, and gently helped him to his feet.
"You...you don't mean that," she stammered, her voice barely a whisper.
Obed, unable to speak, could only nod silently, his eyes fixed on her, a silent plea for understanding. The weight of his loss was unbearable, a gaping hole in his world that no amount of tears could fill.
"I must see this for myself," the princess declared, her voice now resolute.
As if summoned by her words, Dara, the king's true heir and the rightful person to the throne, strode into the courtroom. His face was etched with annoyance, his voice sharp as he addressed the princess.
"Mara! What is the meaning of this? I hear you summoned several elders for a secret meeting. What could be so urgent that it requires such secrecy?"
Mara's heart ached, a deep, gnawing pain that threatened to consume her. It was as if a part of her knew, with a chilling certainty, that someone was going to betray her. She suspected one of the elders had gone behind her back, informing Dara about the secret meeting she had called. It was supposed to be a clandestine gathering, yet somehow, Dara had found out. Who had betrayed her trust? The thought sent a shiver down her spine.
"We are still mourning our father," Dara retorted, his voice laced with bitterness. "He died a miserable death, a death I don't understand. And here you are, calling for a meeting. For what, exactly?" His annoyance was palpable, a simmering anger that threatened to boil over. He wanted to challenge her, to confront her, but the respect he owed his elder sister, a fundamental law of the kingdom, held him back.
"And when speaking to me," Mara countered, her voice firm but laced with a hint of warning, "you should choose your words carefully and ask more politely. I would be grateful for that. We were discussing Father's burial ceremony, nothing more."
Dara, however, saw through her facade. He knew she was lying. Her words were a flimsy veil, and the flicker of guilt in her eyes betrayed her.
"If it was truly about Father's ceremony," Dara pressed, his voice sharp, "then why wasn't I present? I am the Crown Prince of this kingdom, soon to be King. Why exclude me from such a crucial meeting?"
His words struck a chord, triggering a wave of unease within Mara. She hated the way he so effortlessly reminded everyone of his position, his claim to the throne. It was a constant reminder of the power he wielded, a power that threatened to derail her plans. She had to act quickly, before he gained too much influence, before he became a true obstacle to her ambitions.
"Crown Prince?" Mara scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Are you truly convinced you will be the next King of this Kingdom?"
Her words, laced with doubt and a hint of mockery, left Dara bewildered. He couldn't decipher her meaning. Was she questioning his right to the throne? Or was there something else, something deeper, behind her words?
"What exactly are you implying?" he demanded, his voice tight with suspicion. Their gazes locked, a silent battle of wills, each seeking to unravel the other's intentions. The air crackled with tension, as if a storm was brewing between them.
Just then, Dara's eyes shifted, drawn to Obed, who stood silently by, his face etched with grief. It was as if he hadn't truly seen Obed before, but now, his gaze was fixed on the young man, his eyes taking in the raw emotion that painted Obed's features. He saw the tears, the deep distress, the profound sorrow that consumed him.
"And who are you?" Dara asked, his voice now laced with curiosity. He was intrigued, drawn to the young man's silent suffering.
          • Jane's Room •
Obed, with a heavy heart, explained to Dara the tragic truth about Ruth's death. He told him how they were sisters, born in the season, and how their bond was unbreakable. Dara, already familiar with their family through his close friendship with their grandmother, felt a pang of sympathy for Obed's loss. He had always admired the grandmother, a woman of wisdom and strength, who had been a constant presence in his life, offering guidance and support to both him and his father. He had hoped she would be there on the day he will be crowned King of the Genesis Kingdom, and he had even considered naming her the Hand of the King, recognizing her intelligence and invaluable contributions. Her loss was a personal blow, a reminder of the fragility of life and the pain of losing someone so dear.
Obed, unable to bear the weight of his grief alone, led Dara to the room where Ruth's body lay. Dara ordered the guards to removed her remains.
"This is strange," Dara muttered, his voice thick with disbelief. "Murder issues have never happened in the palace before. It's a well-protected place. Something like this shouldn't happen. There must be a traitor among us."
Mara, her voice trembling with a mixture of grief and anger, interrupted him. "I don't care if it was one of us, a traitor, or someone from outside the palace. Whoever did this, I will find them. I will bring them to justice. I will make them pay for what they've done. Ruth was my closest friend, my confidante. I couldn't do anything without her. She was always there to help me. I promise her, I will bring justice."
Her words, though laced with emotion, felt hollow. The tears she shed were fake, a performance meant to mask the true motives that churned within her. As she stormed out of the room, leaving Dara behind, a cold, calculating glint flickered in her eyes. The seeds of suspicion had been planted, and she would use them to her advantage.
Obed was crying bitterly, his grief palpable as he stood with Ruth behind him. Ruth, unable to leave the princess's side, felt a strong urge to comfort her new friend. She knew that Obed was in pain, and she hoped that the princess would understand the need to give them a moment together.
"I honestly cannot explain what happened here, but something feels very fishy," Dara said, his voice steady yet filled with concern. "I assure you, justice will be served! Your sister was a dear friend to our family, and we will forever miss her, just as we will miss your grandmother. You are not alone in this world; you have me as your brother, and the royal family will stand by you. You are welcome to stay here with us. Feel free to ask for anything you need; you will always have a home with us."
"Your sister will be buried here in the palace, as she was a cherished friend of the kingdom. We will honor her with a proper ceremony, alongside my father. I am truly sorry for your loss," he promised. Obed felt overwhelmed, tears streaming down his face as he processed the weight of his sister's death.
Despite Dara's comforting words, Obed couldn't shake the suspicion that lingered in his mind. Why had his sister been removed from her position? Why hadn’t the princess explained her decision? The questions gnawed at him, deepening his sorrow.
"Thank you," he managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper.
"It's alright," Dara replied, turning to Taylor. "I want you to gather your men and start an investigation. I need answers as soon as possible!" Taylor nodded and left the room.
As Dara surveyed the area, his gaze fell upon a piece of rope hanging from the door. It looked eerily familiar, resembling the very rope Taylor had used to secure his waist. When Dara saw it, disbelief washed over him.