Obsidian: The Sentinel Code Book One, page 53
“Your Highness.” Mrs. Chen, the head cook, recovered first. “You should be in bed—”
“I should be eating breakfast.” I aimed for one of the stools by the prep counter. Viktor helped me sit. Took the stool beside me without being asked. “Whatever you're making smells amazing.”
She looked at me. At Viktor. At the way we sat close enough that our shoulders touched. At the way his hand hovered near my back, ready to catch me if I swayed.
Something softened in her expression.
“Eggs,” she said. “Toast. Bacon. Proper food for people who need their strength.” She was already moving, pulling ingredients. “And tea. Lots of tea.”
The other staff resumed their work. Slower. Quieter. Stealing glances but trying not to be obvious about it.
We weren't hiding anymore.
The thought settled warm in my chest. We'd survived. We'd nearly died. And we were sitting in the palace kitchen eating breakfast like normal people who had nothing to hide.
Because we didn't. Not anymore.
Mrs. Chen set plates in front of us. Loaded. More food than two people should eat. But she looked satisfied when we started eating like we'd been starving.
Which, honestly, we had been.
“The palace has been talking,” she said casually. Pouring tea. “About what happened. About you two.”
I tensed. Viktor went still.
“Good things,” she added quickly. “About how Mr. Volkov tore through hell to find you. About how you protected each other. About how you're...” She trailed off. Smiled. “Well. The palace isn't blind, Your Highness. We've known for weeks.”
“Known what?” But my voice came out too careful.
“That you love each other.” She said it simply. “And that you're good for each other. Which is all that matters.”
Viktor's hand found mine under the counter. Squeezed.
“Thank you,” I managed.
She nodded. Went back to her cooking. Left us to our breakfast and our quiet and the slowly dawning realization that maybe, possibly, we didn't have to keep pretending.
We ate in comfortable silence. Viktor finishing his plate for the first time in days. Me trying not to wince every time I moved wrong.
“Your father wants to see you,” Viktor said eventually. “When you are ready.”
“How is he?”
“Angry. Grief-stricken. Proud.” Viktor took a sip of tea. “He wants to know what happens next. With Marcel. With Élodie.”
The names hit like stones. I set down my fork. Suddenly not hungry anymore.
“I need to see them,” I said. “Before I decide.”
“Are you sure?”
“No. But I need to anyway.”
Viktor nodded. “Then we go together.”
“Together,” I agreed.
My father's study looked the same as always. Books. Maps. The weight of centuries pressing down from oil paintings of dead kings who'd all thought they knew better.
He stood by the window. Back straight. Hands clasped. Looking older than he had three days ago. Smaller somehow.
“Papa,” I said.
He turned. Saw me. Something in his face crumbled.
Then he was crossing the room. Pulling me into his arms. Careful of my injuries but desperate all the same.
“I thought I'd lost you.” His voice broke. “When they told me. When they said Marcel had you. I thought—”
“I know.” I held him as tight as broken ribs would allow. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”
“Don't apologize.” He pulled back. Hands framing my face. Eyes red. “Don't you dare apologize for surviving.”
We stood there. Father and son. Both of us falling apart in the way men tried not to.
“Sit,” he said finally. Gesturing to the chairs by the fire. “Both of you. Please.”
Viktor hesitated. “Your Majesty, I can wait outside—”
“No.” My father's voice was firm. “You saved my son. You stay.”
We sat. My father poured scotch with shaking hands. Passed glasses around like this was just another evening instead of the aftermath of everything falling apart.
“Marcel has been talking,” he said. “Trying to justify. Explaining his vision for a stronger kingdom. His better future.” He took a drink. “I wanted to kill him myself.”
“Why didn't you?” The question came out harder than I meant it.
“Because that's what he wanted.” My father met my eyes. “He wanted to be a martyr. To die for his cause. To let history decide if he was right.” He paused. “I won't give him that satisfaction.”
“And Élodie?”
Pain crossed his face. “She won't speak. Just sits in her cell staring at the wall. The doctors think she's in shock. Or grieving. Hard to tell.”
“She betrayed us.” The words tasted like ash. “For eighteen years. She was planning this. Wanting this.”
“I know.” He set down his glass. “And I should have seen it. Should have questioned why she was always so helpful. So perfectly positioned. Should have—”
“You couldn't have known.” Viktor's voice. Quiet but firm. “None of us could. She was very good at what she did.”
“Too good.” My father looked at me. “What do you want to do with them? The decision is yours. As the injured party. As the crown prince. What happens to Marcel and Élodie is your choice.”
The weight of it settled on shoulders that were already carrying too much.
“I need to see them first,” I said. “Need to hear what they have to say. Then I'll decide.”
“And I need to tell you something.” The words came before I could stop them. “Before we do this. Before anything else happens. There's something you should know.”
My father's eyes sharpened. “Élodie already told me. About you and Viktor. About your relationship.”
My stomach dropped. “She told you.”
“She did. Tried to use it as leverage. As blackmail.” He smiled. Sad. Real. “Except I already knew.”
“You knew?” I stared at him. “How—”
“Sebastian. I'm your father. I've watched you your entire life. I've seen the way you look at him. The way he looks at you. The way you move around each other like gravity.” He laughed. Soft. “Did you really think I wouldn't notice?”
Viktor's hand found mine. Not hiding. Just there.
“You're not angry,” I said.
“Angry?” My father shook his head. “I'm relieved. After everything. After losing your mother. After nearly losing you. You found someone who loves you enough to tear through hell to find you.” His voice cracked. “Why would I be angry about that?”
Tears burned. I didn't let them fall. “Because it's complicated. Because he's my bodyguard. Because people will talk—”
“Let them talk.” My father stood. Crossed to us. Put a hand on each of our shoulders. “I have buried one love. I watched her die because I couldn't protect her. Because I was too weak or too slow or too blind to see the danger coming.” He looked at Viktor. “You kept my son alive. You loved him enough to be what he needed. You gave him a reason to fight. To come home.”
He turned to me. Tears streaming now. Not trying to hide them.
“You are my son. My heir. The only family I have left. I don't care who you love as long as they love you back. As long as they're good to you. As long as they make you happy.” He smiled through the tears. “And Viktor makes you happy. I've seen it. Even through all the fear and danger. You're happy with him.”
“I am,” I whispered.
“Then that's all that matters.” He pulled us both into an embrace. Awkward. Tearful. Real. “I love you both. And I approve. For whatever that's worth.”
We stayed like that. The three of us. Crying and laughing and holding onto each other like we could keep the world from taking anything else if we just held on tight enough.
“Thank you,” Viktor said finally. Voice rough. “For trusting me with him.”
“Thank you for proving yourself worthy of that trust.” My father pulled back. Wiped his eyes. “Now. Let's go see what you want to do with the people who tried to take you from us.”
The cells were deep. Cold. The kind of place where light struggled to reach and hope died in corners.
Detective Akintola was waiting at the entrance, coat damp from the rain outside. He nodded when he saw us. Professional. But something warmer flickered in his eyes when they landed on me.
“Your Highness.” He stepped forward. “Mr. Volkov.”
“Detective.” I kept my voice steady. Formal enough for the setting.
Akintola's gaze shifted to me. Studied the bandages visible at my collar, the way I was holding myself too carefully. “How are you, Sebastian?”
The use of my name without title felt deliberate. Personal. Like he was asking the person, not the prince.
“Alive,” I said. “Better than I should be.”
“That's something.” He glanced at Viktor. “Your bodyguard has a habit of keeping you that way.”
Viktor said nothing. Just stood at my shoulder like a wall.
Akintola pulled out a small notebook. “Before you go in, I need a brief debrief. What happened at Hollowvale is going into official records. The Crown's statement will matter.”
I swallowed. “The Chancellor orchestrated attacks on the royal family over an extended period. He was apprehended during an attempted escape.”
“And the other matter?” Akintola's pen hovered over paper. “The aide. Élodie Mercier.”
The name hit like a fist. “She was complicit. She helped him. Covered his movements. Provided intelligence.”
“For how long?”
“Years.” The word came out bitter. “Maybe her whole time in the palace.”
Akintola wrote carefully. Then looked up. “I'm sorry. I know she was close to you.”
“She was.” Past tense. It hurt more than the physical wounds. “Not anymore.”
“Do you need more time before—”
“No.” I straightened. Felt Viktor shift closer. Supportive without hovering. “I need to see them. Need to understand.”
Akintola studied me for a moment. Then nodded. “I'll be here. If you need anything.”
He stepped aside. Let us pass.
Marcel sat in his. Chained despite the guards. Bandaged but alive. He looked up when we entered. Smiled like we were old friends meeting for tea.
“Your Highness. Come to gloat?”
“No.” I stopped outside the bars. Viktor at my shoulder. My father behind us both. “Come to listen.”
“To what? My manifesto? My justification?” He laughed. “I won't give you that satisfaction.”
“Then tell me why.” I gripped the bars. “Why her? Why my mother? Why everything?”
“Because someone had to.” He leaned forward. Chains rattling. “Your father was weak. Your mother made him weaker. The kingdom was dying of kindness. Someone had to be willing to make the hard choices.”
“Like murder.”
“Like survival.” His eyes blazed. “Do you know how many threats I've stopped? How many plots I've shut down? How many times I've saved this crown while you played vigilante and your father played grief-stricken widower?”
“I won’t ever forgive for what you did to her.”
“I removed an obstacle.” No remorse. No shame. “And I'd do it again. Because she was making this kingdom soft. Vulnerable. Weak.” He paused. “Just like you're doing now with your pet soldier.”
Viktor's hand on my shoulder stopped me from reaching through the bars.
“What happens to me?” Marcel asked. “Death? Life imprisonment? Exile?”
“You don't get to be a martyr.” I said it clearly. “You don't get to die for your cause and let history debate if you were right. You get to rot. In here. Forgotten. While the kingdom you tried to save survives without you.”
“Life imprisonment then.” He smiled. “I can live with that.”
“Good.” I turned to the guards. “No visitors. No letters. No communication with the outside world. He dies here. Alone. With nothing but his choices for company.”
I walked away. Didn't look back. Didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his words had cost me.
Élodie's cell was at the end of the corridor.
She sat on the cot. Knees pulled up. Arms wrapped around them. Staring at nothing.
She looked up when we approached. Something crossed her face. Pain. Grief. Relief.
“Sebastian,” she whispered.
“Élodie.” I stopped at the bars. Couldn't make myself get closer.
“I didn't think you'd come.”
“I needed to see you. Needed to understand why.”
“Why?” She laughed. Hollow. “I told you why. Power. Control. Everything I was never allowed to have.”
“Was it worth it?”
The question hung between us. Heavy. Final.
“No.” She said it quietly. “I thought it would be. I thought ruling from the shadows would be enough. That shaping the kingdom would fill the hole.” She looked at her hands. “But all I feel is empty.”
“Good.” I didn't mean for it to come out harsh. But it did. “You should feel empty. You should feel everything you took from me. From us.”
“I know.” Tears streaked her face. “I loved you, Sebastian. I really did. That part wasn't a lie.”
“It doesn't matter.” And it didn't. The love was real. The betrayal was realer. “Love without loyalty is just another weapon.”
“What happens to me?” She looked up. Eyes red. Broken. “Death?”
I thought about it. Imagined her execution. Her blood paying for my mother's. For eighteen years of lies.
It would be justice.
It would be what she deserved.
But it would also be what she wanted. An end. Peace. Freedom from the weight of what she'd done.
“No,” I said. “You get to live. You get to sit in this cell and remember everything you did. Everyone you betrayed. Every choice that led you here.” I paused. “You get to survive long enough to understand what you destroyed.”
Her face crumpled. “Sebastian, please—”
“No mercy.” I cut her off. “You wanted power. You wanted control. This is what you get instead. A cell. Guards who won't speak to you. Decades to reflect on whether it was worth it.”
“I'm sorry.” She sobbed it. “I'm so sorry. Please. Please just kill me. Don't make me—”
“You don't get to choose.” I turned away. “You get to live with what you've done. That's your punishment. That's your justice.”
I walked away. Viktor beside me. My father behind us.
Her sobs followed us down the corridor. Echoing off stone. Growing fainter.
I didn't look back.
We emerged into sunlight. Real sunlight. Warm and bright and alive.
“Are you all right?” Viktor asked.
“No.” I leaned against him. Let him take my weight. “But I will be.”
“That was mercy.” My father's voice. “Letting them live.”
“That was cruelty.” I corrected. “Death is mercy. Living with what you've done is punishment.”
“Wise.” He smiled.
We walked back through the palace. Through corridors I'd run as a child. Past portraits of ancestors who'd made their own impossible choices. Toward chambers that felt like home instead of a cage.
Staff nodded as we passed. Smiled. Whispered. But not with judgment. With approval. With relief that we'd survived.
At my door, my father stopped.
“I'll leave you two,” he said. “You need rest. Both of you.”
“Thank you.” I hugged him. “For everything. For understanding. For loving me anyway.”
“Always.” He pulled back. Looked at Viktor. “Take care of him.”
“With my life.” Viktor's voice was steady. “Always.”
My father nodded. Walked away. Left us standing in the corridor.
Viktor opened my door. We stepped inside. Apollo bounded over immediately. Tail wagging. Nosing at both of us like he'd been worried.
“Hey, boy.” I knelt carefully. Scratched his ears. “I'm okay. We're both okay.”
He licked my face. Viktor's too. Made us both laugh despite everything.
“Come on.” Viktor helped me up. Guided me to the bed. “Rest. Real rest this time.”
“Will you stay?”
“Where else would I go?”
We lay down. Carefully. Both of us broken in different ways but whole enough together.
Viktor's arm came around me. Gentle. Secure.
“It's over,” I whispered.
“Da. It is over.”
“Marcel's in a cell. Élodie's in a cell. My father knows about us. The palace knows about us. We're not hiding anymore.”
“Is that okay?” He asked it carefully. “Are you okay with everyone knowing?”
“Yeah.” I pressed closer. “I'm tired of hiding. Tired of pretending. I just want to be with you. Openly. Honestly. No more secrets.”
“No more secrets,” he agreed.
We lay there in comfortable silence. Apollo curled up at the foot of the bed. Sunlight streaming through the windows. The palace humming with life around us.
“What happens next?” I asked eventually.
“You heal. We rebuild. We figure out how to live in a world where Marcel and Élodie don't exist anymore.” He paused. “And we stop running from what we are.”
“What are we?”
“Yours and mine.” Simple. Final. “Together. Whatever that looks like.”
“I like that.” I turned my head. Found his eyes. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” He kissed me. Soft. Careful. Real. “Now sleep. When you wake up, we start figuring out what comes next.”
“What if what comes next is hard?”
“Then we handle it.” His hand found mine. “Together.”
I closed my eyes. Let exhaustion pull me under. Let the warmth and safety and Viktor wash over me like absolution.
We'd survived.
We'd won.
And whatever came next, we'd face it together.
That was enough.
