Chapter 3: Brooch

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ - : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

CHAPTER 3

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ - : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

MORNING sun cast golden beams across the eastern wing, filtering through the high-arched windows as Rhiannon made her way toward Lady Evelyne's chambers. The weight of the previous night still clung to her-her muscles ached from the prince's relentless training, and the phantom touch of his grip on her wrist lingered in her mind longer than she cared to admit.

In reality, Rhiannon had never really interact with men in general, except, of course, her father, but servents, they were mostly woman, three or four men here and there. They were needed to train for upcoming wars, to be soldiers, to be knights, to do more armament. So to Rhia's perspective, this was new to her, a prince, a prince talking to her, training with her. It wasn't out of ordinary but she liked their interacting, a forbidden one, yes. A prince training with a servent. That wasn't her job. That wasn't his duty. They would have needed to create a whole new law to forbidde it officially. Not once thought of until this case. Who would've thought?

She had expected to return to the armoury tonight. Expected to step back into the silent challenge that Simon Riley, the prince, had laid before her. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

Lady Evelyne barely acknowledged her as she entered the chamber. The noble woman was reclined on a cushioned chaise, surrounded by two of her closest ladies, their laughter like the tinkle of fine glass.

Rhia kept her head down and moved to begin her work-straightening the chamber, dusting, ensuring every fabric and ornament was in its rightful place, all while battling the weight of exhaustion from her tiredness work.

She was nearly finished when Lady Evelyne's voice cut through the room like a blade.

"Where is my brooch?"

Silence followed. The air shifted, thick with sudden tension. Rhia froze, her hands hovering over the silken sheets she had just smoothed over the grand bed.

The brooch in question was a delicate thing-gold filigree in the shape of a blooming rose, studded with tiny emeralds. A gift, as Lady Evelyne had so often reminded everyone, that it was from the Queen herself.

"I placed it right here" Lady Evelyne said, her voice sharp, fingers tapping against the vanity where the brooch had last been seen. "And now it's gone."

One of the ladies turned, her gaze sliding to Rhiannon.

"Perhaps the servant knows something about it?"

Rhiannon's blood ran cold.

Lady Evelyne straightened, her gaze locking onto Rhia like a hawk spotting its prey.

"Well?"

Rhia lifted her chin, forcing herself to stay composed.

"I don't know where it is, my lady."

A delicate scoff.

"Of course you don't."

The accusation wasn't direct. Not yet. But the implication hung heavy in the air.

"She's always skulking about" one of the ladies murmured, loud enough to be heard.

"And it's not as if a servant wouldn't be tempted by a bit of wealth."

Rhia clenched her fists. She had seen this before-how quickly nobility turned onto suspicion into truth if it suited them. And she knew that, no matter what she said, her word meant nothing against theirs.

Lady Evelyne turned to her ladies, voice dripping with satisfaction.

"Fetch the guards."

A rush of movement. A sick twist in Rhia's gut. This was no longer just suspicion. It was an actual accusation. A false accusation.

➽───────────────❥

The Queen's private hall was a stark contrast to where Rhia had been mere hours ago. Opulent, grand, and suffocating.

She stood in the center of the room, the weight of every eye pressing down on her.

The Queen, regal and unmoving, sat upon her high-backed chair, observing the proceedings with a gaze as sharp as cut glass.

Lady Evelyne stood at her side, lips curved in a victorious smirk.

And just to the left, arms folded, expression unreadable, stood the prince, Simon Riley.

Rhia forced herself to keep her breathing steady. To keep her shoulders square despite the coil of frustration tightening in her chest.

"The accusation is serious" the Queen said, her voice smooth but edged with authority. "Lady Evelyne claims you stole from her."

"I didn't" Rhia said firmly, her voice steady. "I have no interest in wealth, my Queen."

Lady Evelyne let out a soft laugh. "Oh, how noble," she mused. "And yet, my brooch is missing."

Rhia swallowed her frustration.

"I don't know what happened to it. I never touched it."

The Queen studied her.

"And yet, you were in her chamber?"

"I was working" Rhia said, lifting her chin. "The royal steward commanded me to the eastern wing yesterday and today. I was only doing my duty, your highness"

Lady Evelyne gave a delicate shrug.

"Perhaps she thought no one would notice a missing trinket."

Simon, who had remained silent until now, shifted slightly. His voice, when he spoke, was calm, but there was an unmistakable steel beneath it.

"A brooch is a rather large accusation for a servant with no history of theft."

Lady Evelyne turned to him with an indulgent smile.

"Your Highness, servants steal all the time. Desperation makes them foolish."

Simon's gaze didn't waver.

"Perhaps. But desperation also makes for poor lies. If she was guilty, she'd be begging for mercy by now."

Rhia's eyes flicked to him, surprised by his defence. He wasn't exactly shielding her-not openly. But he was poking holes in the accusation, challenging Lady Evelyne's claim in a way she couldn't easily dismiss.

The Queen exhaled, fingers tapping lightly against the armrest of her chair.

"Regardless of truth, we cannot ignore an accusation from one of our own."

Panic whispered along Rhia's spine. If the Queen ruled against her, she wouldn't just lose her position-she would face punishment. And depending on Lady Evelyne's influence, that punishment could be severe.

The Queen tilted her head.

"A servant caught stealing must be disciplined."

'But I wasn't caught stealing, helloo??'

Simon took a step forward.

"Then let the punishment fit the crime."

A pause. The Queen's gaze flicked to him, considering.

"You have a suggestion, my son?"

Simon's eyes met Rhia's. It was only a second. Barely that. But she felt the weight of it. The silent conversation within it.

He wasn't asking for her trust. He was demanding it.

"I do" he said, turning back to his mother. "If she's guilty, she will be confined to the servants quarters until the truth comes to light."

Lady Evelyne frowned.

"That is hardly-"

Simon cut her off.

"She is a servant, not a criminal. If the brooch is found elsewhere, she remains unharmed. If it is not..." His voice was careful, measured. "Then she will answer for it."

The Queen considered. Then, with a slow nod, she leaned back.

"So be it."

Rhia's heart pounded. She had been expecting the worst. This wasn't freedom, but it wasn't exile either.

Lady Evelyne looked displeased but did not argue further. The Queen had spoken.

Rhia dared another glance at Simon. He did not look at her, his expression unreadable as ever.

But she knew.

He had just saved her.

And now, she owed him.

➽───────────────❥

Rhia sat on the edge of her narrow cot, staring at the cracked ceiling of the servants quarters. The walls felt tighter, the air heavier. The ache in her muscles from days of labor and training had deepened, exhaustion creeping through her bones. Praying they would find that damn brooch.

A knock at the door snapped her from her thoughts. It creaked open, and Simon stood there, leaning casually against the frame.

His mask was off, and his eyes studied her with an unreadable intensity. 'And there's ugly rumors about him?! tsk'

"You should be thanking me" he said, his voice low.

Rhia scoffed, crossing her arms.

"Should I? For saving me from a punishment I didn't deserve?"

His lips twitched slightly. "That's how it works, princess. You owe me now."

Rhiannon scoffed.

"And what exactly is it that I owe you, Your Highness?" She injected the title with more mockery than respect.

Simon tilted his head, watching her. The air between them tightened, thick with something unspoken. His lips curved-not quite a smile, more a suggestion of one.

"You'll know soon enough."

Her fingers twitched against the fabric of her skirts. He was playing a game, a game she wasn't sure she wanted to be part of. But then again, had she ever had a choice?

She narrowed her eyes.

"If you think I'm going to bow at your feet in gratitude, you're mistaken. I'm innocent."

Simon huffed a quiet laugh.

"If I wanted that, I'd have let Evelyne have her way."

Her stomach twisted at the memory. If he hadn't stepped in... if the Queen had ruled differently... No. She refused to dwell on what could have been.

Instead, she straightened, setting her chin high.

"Then why did you do it?"

He didn't answer right away. He stepped further into the room, slow, deliberate, until the door clicked shut behind him. A whisper of danger, though not the kind that sent shivers of fear down her spine-but something else.

Simon stood close now, arms still folded, gaze dark and intent.

"Because I don't like liars" he finally said. "And I don't like watching good people get crushed under someone else's heel."

Rhiannon stared at him. It wasn't what she expected. But she had learned long ago not to trust pretty words, even if they came wrapped in steel like his.

"So what now?" she challenged. "You keep me locked in here until someone stumbles upon Lady Evelyne's precious brooch?"

Simon's jaw tightened, but he didn't break eye contact. "I'll find out who took it."

Something in his voice-calm, certain-made her heartbeat quicken. He meant it.

She exhaled, shaking her head.

"Why do you care, Simon?"

His expression flickered at the use of his name, but he said nothing. Instead, he turned on his heel, heading for the door.

"You owe me, Rhiannon" he murmured as he left.

The door shut behind him. And she hated the way her pulse refused to settle.

➽───────────────❥

Meanwhile, in the western wing of the castle...

Lady Evelyne stood by her vanity, fingers trailing along the golden edges of her mirror.

The brooch-her precious brooch-wasn't lost. It had never been lost.

She lifted it from its hiding place beneath layers of silk, the emeralds glinting under the candlelight. A satisfied smirk played at her lips.

"Poor, poor little servant" she murmured. "Let's see how long you last before you break."

Then, she tucked it away once more.

After all, this game had only just begun.

➽───────────────❥

➽Simon's POV

Simon sat alone in the training hall, methodically wrapping his hands with cloth, his mind far from the present.

The morning had been uneventful, save for the ever-present tension gnawing at his patience. He had intended to continue Rhiannon's training that night, to push her further, to see just how much fire she truly had beneath all that stubborn defiance.

But then the summons had come.

His mother's court.

An accusation.

Rhiannon at the center of it.

His jaw tightened as he adjusted the wraps around his knuckles. He didn't like the feeling stirring in his gut. Displeasure. Irritation. Something dangerously close to anger.

And so, when he had entered the Queen's private hall and seen her standing there, framed by Lady Evelyne's smug satisfaction, he had known exactly what had to be done.

He just hadn't expected the way it would feel. And he would do it again and again if it was necessary. If it meant she wasn't punished.

He was praying that they, or he himself would find that damn of a brooch.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾