Chapter 237 - 237: The Minister Who Had to Go

In the inner garden of the courthouse, Ruelle stood in the same place where Lucian had left her. The winter garden was a quiet, walled courtyard, set apart from the courthouse's busy corridors. The sky above was pale and grey, and the cold air carried the faint scent of flowers.

Ruelle didn't know how many minutes had passed. She had stopped counting somewhere after the first twenty. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, then forced herself to stand still.

It's going to be fine, she told herself, taking a deep breath before releasing it.

Lucian had already informed her that Minister Sylvan lacked the ability some of the pureblooded families possessed. It was probably one of the reasons his mother called him useless.

Then she heard footsteps and when she looked at the entrance, she caught sight of Minister Sylvan walking into the premise of the courtyard. He was exactly as she remembered him, just a little younger. He stopped when he saw her, his eyes narrowing, taking in the small girl standing alone beside the frozen fountain.

"What is a human doing here?" he muttered as his eyes swept over her, taking in her small frame, her braided hair, the modest dress that marked her as someone with no rank and no protection. His mouth curved into something cold and amused. "Did one of the ministers bring her here as lunch?"

"I am here to meet you, Master," Ruelle's small voice drifted to where he stood.

He scoffed. Minister Sylvan turned away from her, his coat already swinging with the motion of departure, when she uttered,

"I have come from the future and have come to warn you about the future."

He abruptly came to a halt, turning around with his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Who set you up to this nonsense?" His voice carried the particular edge. "All it will take is a single snap of your neck, little girl." His eyes skimmed the garden but there was no one.

Ruelle gingerly offered a bow. Her voice came out soft, "I was able to piece together the last part of the mirror that belonged to Belladonna before coming here. You were killed... and Lady Sylvan was injured terri—"

"Why did you call me, Master?" Minister Sylvan demanded, cutting her off.

Raising her head, Ruelle replied, "Because... you raised me, Master. I was an orphan before I met you. I am ever grateful for the life I have because of you," she lied through her teeth, the words sliding out smooth as ice, while she waited for Lucian's cue. "I was only going to make the witch reverse the time before your death to help you, not realising how far I ended up at."

The garden was silent.

Minister Sylvan stared at her, his eyes narrowing still further, and Ruelle could see the calculation moving behind them. The weighing of this strange, impossible story against the facts he knew, the instinct that told him to dismiss her.

"Lady Sylvan wasn't in the position to move, hence I used it—"

"Who killed me?" Minister Sylvan demanded.

"It was His Majesty... and his relatives," Ruelle answered. A faint sound of a bird twittering outside was heard.

A huff escaped from Minister Sylvan's lips as if he found all of this absurd and he said, "You should go tell this story to another minister. The King and I have a good relationship. I have other important matters to take care of," he turned again this time, heading in the direction of the exit.

'Get close enough to Sylvan before you do it. This way the evidence will be on both of you,' Lucian's words rang in her ears.

Ruelle ran to Minister Sylvan, pulling him by his coat with one of her small hands, her fingers twisting into the expensive fabric.

"What audacity—" The minister turned with a glare, his hand rising as if to swat her away like an insect. "—you cannot be my underling. Spouting nonsense without sense and now touching me? You're nothing but a—"

Ruelle threw the blood on herself from another hand.

She had been carrying it in a small leather flask, tucked against her side, kept warm by her body so it wouldn't freeze in the cold. Before coming here, Lucian had picked it up from the court kitchen. The blood splattered more on her than him, which was when she had intended while Minister Sylvan looked at her as if she had gone crazy. Blood dripped from her neck down her collar of her dress and below it.

When Ruelle staggered, the dagger fell off her hand and near his feet, which carried traces of blood, before she fell flat on her back on the ground.

Closing her eyes, she did not move.

From the archway at the other end of the garden, there came a sound of footsteps and they belonged to the ministers, whom Lucian had written the envelopes to. Seeing Minister Sylvan standing near the blood-soaked child, expressions of shock and disbelief fell over their faces.

"What did you do, Minister Sylvan?" asked one of them with a deep frown.

"Me? I did nothing. She did that herself," Minister Sylvan huffed at the allegation. "I don't even—"

"Wait, isn't that the child who is involved in the treaty?" asked someone else, and this was enough for Minister Sylvan's eyes to snap at her. "I thought she was kidnapped..."

"What is she doing here?" came the murmurs, while carrying a look of judgement that was directed at Minister Sylvan.

"He kidnapped her?" someone asked, who was more than happy to take out the minister, while Minister Sylvan glared.

"What absurdity are you all talking about? Why would I even—"

The footsteps came again, slower and heavier this time. And then the Elder Minister's voice was heard loud with authority,

"What is going on here?"

The gathered ministers parted before him like a curtain being drawn. He stepped into the garden, his coat dark, his expression stern when his eyes fell on Ruelle covered in blood, he stopped dead in his tracks. It was hard to know where she had been injured and there laid the dagger near Sylvan.

"Why has no physician been called?" the elder minister demanded furiously. "She is a child. A child is covered in blood, and you stand there staring like cattle at a fence—"

"Elder Minister." Lord Azriel stepped forward, who had come along with him. "I'll take her. I'll see that a physician tends to her."

Carnifex's jaw tightened. He looked at Ruelle, who was soon carried by Lord Azriel. But as the little girl was taken away, her eyes opened and met her father's, before she winked at him quietly and closed her eyes again.

The Elder Minister stared at them while his lips set themselves in a thin line. He instructed,

"Take her to my chambers."

"What a crazy human, tch," Minister Sylvan remarked in annoyance as he tried to fix himself. He continued, "She ran after me and tried to attack me, but then she started bleeding suddenly. Who even picked her family to be part of the treaty? She's mentally il—"

"Minister Sylvan," Carnifex stopped the council minister from going further. "Being found alone with the missing child at the centre of the treaty while she is covered in blood is not a position I would dismiss lightly."

"I think I am being framed, Elder Minister," Minister Sylvan scoffed.

Carnifex had racked through his mind to find the truth and evidence with what Ruelle had told, knowing he couldn't just follow a little girl's words which he wasn't aware of, but at the same time, it also held the truth.

"You will be held under interrogation. We hope for your cooperation if you are innocent," the Elder Minister raised his hand, and guards stepped forward, grabbing Minister Sylvan and cuffing his hands with metal rings.

Sylvan gritted his teeth, "You intend to detain me over this farce?"

"On several matters presently under investigation," Carnifex replied. He turned to the guards, "Take the minister to the dungeon."

Back in the Elder Minister's chamber, the blood was being cleaned off her skin by Lucian.

He worked with a cloth and a basin of warm water, his hands steady and careful as they wiped the dark red from her neck, her face, her collar. The blood came away in thin, pink streaks, and Ruelle sat still on the edge of a chair that was too large for her small frame, her legs dangling, her hands folded in her lap. She had been through worse, and they both knew it.

Lord Azriel stood near the window with his arms crossed over his chest, his expression grim. He had not been told the plan before, but Lucian now filled him in. But nothing had prepared him for the sight of Ruelle soaked in what had looked like her own blood. Lucian continued, his voice even as he spoke of the years that had been erased. But when he mentioned Irina's death, Azriel's expression changed.

His arms slowly fell from his chest.

It didn't take long for the Elder Minister to barge into the room.

The doors opened with enough force to rattle the frame, and Carnifex strode through them, closing both behind him with a sharp push that sealed them shut against anyone who might be listening. For a moment, he looked like he was going to reprimand Ruelle. His mouth opened, his brow darkened, and the words that were forming behind his teeth were the words of an Elder Minister.

But then he saw her and intended sharpness drained out of him.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" he asked, his voice quieter than it had been a moment ago. He walked to where she sat and knelt down in front of her, his hands reaching for her.

Ruelle shook her head.

Carnifex stared at her hard. His eyes moved over her, searching for a wound he couldn't find and then, without a word he pulled her into an embrace. He stayed in the same position for several seconds, his arms tight around her, his chin resting on the top of her head.

"Seriously," he murmured, his eyebrows pulling together, his voice rough with something he would not have let anyone else hear. "I thought I lost you there. I only just learned that you are my daughter. Do you know what—"

"Sorry, Father," Ruelle whispered and she felt him freeze.

Ruelle patted her father's back, who sighed before pulling away to look at her. He said,

"There's a medical box in the drawer—" his words paused when he caught Lucian, who had already pulled the box and held a bandage in his hand. "You can wrap it... around her neck. It would avoid people from questioning..." he murmured, not knowing how the boy even knew where the medical kit was.

While Lucian wrapped the bandage carefully around Ruelle's neck, Carnifex spoke from where he stood by the fire, his arms crossed, his expression grim. The Elder Minister uttered,

"Minister Sylvan has been detained in the dungeon. But the proofs I have are not enough to hold him guilty." He turned from the fire, his shadow stretching long across the floor. "What happened today gives me grounds to question him. It does not give me grounds to convict him."

The silence that followed was heavy. Lucian's hands paused on the bandage before he finished tucking it.

"Then we don't have time to wait," Lord Azriel stated, who had already made his decision, which was to protect his family. "Now that we have meddled with time we need to act quickly. We have set events in motion that did not exist before. The future has changed. And we do not know how much of it has changed or how fast the ripples will reach the people we are trying to stay ahead of. Who knows if Lady Sylvan makes a move? She will not remain patient when she learns her son has been detained."

"Take her into custody," Lucian was the one to speak.

This had both the adults turn to look at the boy.

"Bring Lady Sylvan in, and lie that Sylvan himself brought her name into it. Catch hold of the humans, and tell her that he was the one to point them out to save his neck. She doesn't seem like someone who would believe her own son. A man detained in a dungeon, facing charges that could end his position and his family's standing, giving up his own mother to save himself. It is not a grand lie. But it is a small, believable one."

Carnifex nodded in agreement. He answered,

"I will have men sent to the Sylvan estate. But Sylvan is a council minister and other council members will be present and might think it is a personal manipulation."

"Then we don't go through the council," Lord Azriel proposed. "Bring in a higher authority. Someone above the council. Someone whose word cannot be questioned, whose judgement cannot be appealed, and whose involvement will make people ask fewer questions and accept the outcome more swiftly."

Ruelle's eyes met Lucian's because she knew who Lord Azriel was talking about. King Septimus.