Chapter 75

Elwin burned to shout, Leon! Have you lost your mind? He fought the urge to clamp a hand over his companion’s mouth, paralyzed by the fear that any rash movement would be cited as contempt of court.

“To begin with, is the Duke of Hartwell of Rosemond not a figure from a fairy tale?”

At the magistrate’s hesitant query, Elwin longed to scream, That is exactly my point! Yet, Leon remained unmoving, staring up at the bench with a shameless, yet undeniably dignified, air. His confidence was so absolute that his posture radiated an aura of nobility.

The spectators, who had mocked Dwight’s nonsense only moments before, were now transfixed by Leon as if under a spell. For reasons unknown, several reporters trembled so violently that they dropped their notebooks to the floor.

Amidst that ominous, shifting atmosphere, the magistrate continued, “Furthermore, the Grand Duke of Northumbria and the Earl of Redding are cases where titles were granted by direct royal command, based on the singular status of the monarchy.”

“In that case, Honorable Presiding Magistrate, may I interpret your words to mean that should a royal command be issued, Sir Elwin’s right of inheritance might also be recognized?”

Elwin could not comprehend why Leon would utter such madness. What possible benefit could there be in making such an assumption about him, a man with no connection to the royal family? Just as Elwin, unable to endure the charade, reached out to stifle Leon, a bizarre intuition struck him.

The magistrate’s demeanor had shifted. He leaned forward over the bench, pressing his glasses toward his eyes while furrowing his brows in deep concentration. His expression mirrored that of the Northern chief constable and the reporters, all of whom were exhibiting signs of profound, uncharacteristic agitation.

“Surely not…”

The magistrate muttered the words under his breath. At that precise moment, Leon spoke in a grave, resonant voice devoid of even a trace of levity.

“My name is Leonhart Albert William. I am Her Majesty the Queen’s third son, and the third prince of the direct royal line.”

An absolute, breathless silence descended upon the courtroom. Even the court clerk’s pen, which had scratched incessantly through all the previous commotion, froze upright against the parchment.

Elwin’s mind ground to a halt. He had heard the words, but his brain refused to process their meaning.

Leon pressed on, delivering a final, staggering blow.

“And I hereby declare that Sir Elwin, standing here in this court, is my betrothed.”

The second assertion was something Elwin could grasp, and he recognized the lie immediately. It was an outrageous fabrication. Elwin and Leon were not engaged; they had not even exchanged a formal proposal. Though they had certainly engaged in acts meant only for the betrothed—or, perhaps, the married—they were hardly in a position to proclaim it in a sacred hall of law.

If the second statement was a lie, the first must be as well. Elwin scoured his reeling memory. The third prince?

Gooseflesh erupted along Elwin’s spine. Impersonating royalty was a transgression far more severe than contempt of court; it was treason. If this continued, Leon might face a fate far worse than Dwight’s.

We must beg for mercy right now. No, wait. I will claim he has lost his mind. If I present this as the drivel of a lunatic, he might escape the charge of treason.

Elwin reached toward Leon’s back, intending to force a bow, but he felt that strange, suffocating pressure again. The Northern chief constable, who had looked utterly bewildered earlier, had completely altered his posture and was now offering Leon a formal, rigid salute.

Even the magistrate, far from roaring in indignation, was studying Leon with eyes full of newfound reverence. As the official squinted, as if searching his own memory, Leon spoke again.

“If you require proof, I shall provide it.”

Leon drew a long silver object from the inner pocket of his jacket—a tool familiar to Elwin. It was the paper knife Leon had entrusted to him the day he had been locked in his room.

Elwin’s head throbbed. He recalled the two lions engraved on the blade. As far as he knew, the royal crest consisted of two lions, a sun-shield, and three swords. But the lions he had seen on the knife were turned back-to-back, while the royal crest depicted two lions facing each other with the sun-shield between them.

It could not be.

“Here is the royal seal.”

While Elwin desperately denied the evidence of his own eyes, Leon gripped the knife in both hands and twisted it. With a soft click, the handle split in half, specifically where the lions sat back-to-back. Leon turned the detached section, fitting it onto the opposite end. Suddenly, upon the slender silver bar, two proud lions appeared, flanking the shield.

“If sealing wax is available, I can stamp it for you. What say you?”

Leon extended the device. Even without wax, the royal seal was etched clearly for all to see.

Goodness gracious.

Leon was a prince? How could this be? Elwin had dismissed His Royal Highness as a thuggish libertine, treated him with disdain, and even mistaken him for a member of a criminal organization. And he had done all sorts of things with him?

Elwin’s overloaded mind splintered. Too much had transpired since yesterday. He could not accept another drop of information. This reality was beyond his breaking point.

“Oh, Elwin!”

His head blurred, and his vision began to fade. As his body swayed, Leon reached out, startled, and called his name.

Is this really the time for you to be shocked? Do you have any idea how terrified I am?

Looking at Leon’s outstretched hands, Elwin tried to scream, but no sound escaped his throat. He simply collapsed into the darkness.

***