Descend
"In chaos, the guilty reveal themselves."
Screams tore through the forest like jagged lightning.
The appearance of wild beasts in the royal hunting grounds—grounds that had been declared utterly safe—plunged the gathering into pandemonium.
"Back! Get back!"
"We're under attack! Flee!"
The royal knights drew their blades in desperate haste, loosing arrows at the wolves that burst from the treeline. What had begun as a refined hunting competition dissolved into a frantic exodus, nobles stumbling over roots and gowns as they fled toward safety.
Those who escaped the forest huddled at the clearing's edge, faces pale with shock, lungs heaving. Many appeared too stunned to form coherent thoughts.
Had Valdina's knights not been swift and decisive in their response, the casualties would have been catastrophic.
One by one, soldiers emerged from the woods carrying wolf carcasses—massive beasts, some nearly the size of small carriages. The sight sent fresh shivers through the assembled crowd.
"Your Highness, I know it is presumptuous of me to ask, but... might I hold your arm for just a moment?"
Birna's shoulders trembled with theatrical fear.
"I'm so frightened I can scarcely take a single step."
She pressed close to the Grand Duke, her voice quivering with practiced vulnerability.
The Queen Dowager's expression had turned to stone, her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.
"What in heaven's name has happened here?"
Her voice cracked through the chaos like a whip.
"Why are there wolves on these grounds? Were we not assured this forest was completely secure?"
The head gamekeeper—the man responsible for maintaining the hunting grounds—dropped to his knees, forehead pressed to the earth.
"Your Majesty, I deserve death for this failure. The breeding season has long since passed. I cannot fathom how this occurred..."
A knight stepped forward, his armor still spattered with dark blood.
"The immediate threat has been neutralized. All wolves within the perimeter are dead."
He paused, scanning the crowd.
"But I must ask—have all participants in the competition returned safely? If anyone remains unaccounted for, speak now!"
The prospect of nobles still trapped within that death-filled forest sent a ripple of unease through the gathering. Heads turned, eyes searched.
Then a voice rose above the murmurs, sharp with alarm.
"Her Royal Highness the Princess and the young Duke Claudio—neither of them is here!"
✦ ✦ ✦"We've found the young Duke Claudio!"
Samon lay unconscious beneath a gnarled oak, deep within the forest's shadowed heart, far from where the competition had taken place.
Nearby, the savaged remains of a horse bore witness to the wolves' brutality—flesh torn, bones exposed, blood soaking into the dark earth.
"Over here! Quickly!"
A knight's cry echoed as he discovered the abandoned saddle and bridle.
"SAMON!"
Catherine's shriek pierced the air as she shoved past the knights, throwing herself toward her son's prone form.
Why is he lying here? This wasn't part of the plan. Samon was never supposed to be harmed.
"Are you alright? Speak to me! My son, your mother is here!"
She shook him violently, heedless of any injuries he might have sustained, her composure shattered.
Perhaps it was fate's twisted sense of humor, or perhaps the rough handling served as adequate stimulus—either way, Samon's eyes fluttered open.
"Mo... Mother?"
Confusion clouded his features. Through blurred vision, he made out his mother's tear-streaked face and the semicircle of armored knights surrounding them.
Where am I? What happened?
"Oh, thank the gods! You're awake!"
Catherine clutched him to her chest, tears streaming freely.
"I nearly lost you, my precious boy."
Still cradling her son, Catherine whirled on the assembled knights, all trace of noble grace abandoned.
"I thought those beasts were going to kill him..."
"Those... what...?"
Samon mumbled, still disoriented.
Catherine spun back to face the soldiers, her voice rising to a hysterical pitch.
"What is the meaning of this hesitation? Why hasn't someone fetched the physician? My son lies here wounded, and you all simply stand and gawk!"
The knights exchanged uncertain glances. The refined noblewoman they knew had been replaced by something feral and desperate.
But Grand Duke Jason's mind was already elsewhere, turning over the pieces of this bloody puzzle.
The Princess orchestrated this—she must have. Yet the young Duke was found alone.
If that's true, then where...
"Where is Her Highness the Princess?"
His voice cut through Catherine's theatrics like cold steel.
The knights, momentarily mesmerized by Catherine's performance, snapped to attention at the Grand Duke's command. They surveyed the area with renewed urgency.
The Princess was nowhere to be seen.
Medea isn't here?
Samon's mind lurched into motion. The last thing he remembered was turning toward her voice—
"Your Grace, where is Her Royal Highness?"
The Knight Commander's question was pointed, deliberate. After all, Samon had been the Princess's designated hunting partner. They had entered the forest together mere hours ago.
"I... That is to say..."
Samon's tongue felt thick and useless. Nothing had gone according to plan. Everything had spiraled so catastrophically wrong.
Who attacked me? Where has Medea gone?
The knights' gazes slowly descended.
Blood was spattered across Samon's clothing—vivid crimson, still glistening with freshness. Even Samon himself startled at the sight.
"This... this isn't my blood..."
He patted himself frantically, searching for wounds that didn't exist.
"Your Grace, is this your sword?"
A knight retrieved the blade that lay abandoned at Samon's feet. The steel was slick with blood. Beside it, the mangled corpse of a horse—torn apart by wolves—lay in silent accusation.
"Young Duke Claudio. What have you done to the Princess?"
The blood-stained sword. The dead horse bearing the Princess's saddle. The unconscious heir to House Claudio, drenched in gore yet conspicuously uninjured.
The same terrible hypothesis formed in every mind.
Samon's face drained of color. He raised both hands in frantic denial.
"It wasn't me! Someone struck me from behind—I lost consciousness instantly!"
But his words rang hollow against the damning tableau surrounding him. Covered in blood without a scratch to show for it.
If it wasn't his blood... then whose?
"I did nothing to Medea! You must believe me!"
But given the overwhelmingly suspicious circumstances, no one did.
✦ ✦ ✦The Princess had vanished from the hunting grounds.
Her horse lay dead, savaged by a wolf pack. Her hunting partner was discovered unconscious and soaked in blood, yet bore not a single wound.
The circumstances screamed foul play.
Upon hearing the report, the Queen Dowager swayed—just once—before iron will reasserted itself.
"Sissair."
Her voice was steady as forged steel.
"Assemble a search party immediately. Find Medea. Additionally, I want a complete investigation—everything she ate today, everything she wore, every person she spoke with or stood beside. We must identify who is hunting the Princess."
Decades at the apex of royal power had honed her instincts to a razor's edge. Every fiber of her being screamed that today's events were no accident.
Someone is targeting Medea. The Katzen delegation, perhaps? They still harbor resentment from that duel.
The Queen Dowager's gaze swept toward the foreign dignitaries, cold and assessing.
Medea must have been a thorn in their side—an obstacle they wished to eliminate. I should have recognized the danger when they insisted so vehemently on this hunting competition.
How foolish of me.
Nearby, the Fourth Princess shifted uncomfortably, unable to meet the Queen Dowager's piercing eyes.
Suspicion hung thick in the air—but suspicion alone was not evidence.
"Your Majesty!"
A knight rushed forward, clutching something in his gauntleted hand.
"This was discovered among the Princess's belongings!"
He presented a small sachet, its fabric dark and stiff with dried blood. When he carefully opened it, dried herbs spilled into view.
The knight inhaled cautiously, then recoiled.
"This scent... it's designed to lure predatory beasts. This is almost certainly why the wolves targeted Her Highness's horse."
Clear evidence of deliberate sabotage.
And who had been with the Princess until the very end? Who would have had the opportunity to plant such a thing?
Every eye in the clearing turned toward Samon.
His jaw dropped in horrified disbelief.
"I don't understand! I know nothing of this! Why would that be among Medea's possessions?"
His voice cracked with desperation.
"Someone attacked me—my vision went black—when I awoke, I was here! Please, Grandmother, you must believe me!"
"Claudio—are you telling me you murdered her and now dare to lie?"
The Queen Dowager's voice tore through the clearing—not a question, but a howl of anguish, primal and terrible.
Samon collapsed to his knees, arms spread wide in supplication.
"Grandmother, I swear upon my very life—I would never harm Medea! Never Her Highness!"
But drenched in blood as he was, every word that left his lips sounded like nothing more than a desperate excuse.
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