His uncle’s orders.
How many others were part of this? How many false witnesses would rise in the final hearing, ready to seal his fate with their polished lies?
And even if he dared accuse Peter publicly, what good would it do? With no evidence, with no support, with his own mind frayed by wolfsbane and grief... he would only look like what they wanted the world to believe: a cursed prince unraveling at last who lost his minds.
A lunatic.
A threat.
His fists clenched, chains rattling weakly, and he let out a low growl of frustration. There was no clean escape. No clever speech. No secret weapon.
His head sagged forward, breath shallow, and a tear slipped free—not from fear, but from the deep, suffocating sense of betrayal.
He had given everything for this kingdom.
And now, they we
