Chapter 81: Thorn Bloodline

Basil stared at Darius in exasperation, his expression caught somewhere between irritation and disbelief. "I’m being serious here, Darius. You need to get some rest, so stop being stubborn." His voice carried a note of concern, making it clear that his concern was genuine despite the irritation in his expression.

Darius merely chuckled, looking far too pleased with himself. "Okay, okay, I’ll rest," he said, briefly lifting a hand in surrender before lowering it again. "But I’m not done here. Just give me a little more time." His smile faded slightly as determination settled back into his eyes. "And I’m really not as weak as I look, Basil. I’m strong enough to see this through. Just trust me, okay?"

Basil looked at him for a long moment before finally releasing a quiet breath and shrugging. "If you say so. I was only..." He trailed off, shaking his head in resignation. "Never mind. Just do whatever you want. I can’t keep arguing with you when you’ve already made up your mind."

Darius smirked. "I really appreciate you looking out for me, brother. Thank you."

A bitter, somber smile touched Basil’s lips, and Darius returned it with a soft, knowing nod.

For a brief moment, the tension that had filled the room seemed to ease, leaving only the quiet understanding between the two princes.

Then the massive castle doors suddenly swung open with a thunderous bang, drawing every gaze toward the entrance yet again. Four heavily armed operatives in dark tactical gear marched into the hall, roughly shoving a tall, disheveled man forward between them. The prisoner stumbled forward, his shirt wrinkled and his wrists bound tightly in metal cuffs.

Gasps echoed across the gallery as the remaining councilors leaned forward in sheer disbelief. The captive man bore an uncanny resemblance to the dead Field Marshal lying in a pool of blood near the table.

"Adrian Thorn!" Prime Minister Ashcroft blurted out in disbelief, his voice echoing through the chamber as he pointed a trembling finger. "You’re still alive? Everyone thought you died years ago!"

The man let out a harsh, dry cackle, tilting his chin up in defiance. "Thought a mere car crash was enough to kill me, Ashcroft—"

His words cut off instantly. Adrian’s eyes landed on the cold, lifeless body of Field Marshal Thompson Thorn sprawled across the carpet, the dark crimson pool still expanding around his head. His laughter died in his throat, his face draining of all color. "Who did this?" he gasped, his voice cracking with sudden, hysterical rage as he lunged forward against his restraints. "Who did this to my brother?!"

Around the hall, the council members shifted nervously in their seats, exchanging alarmed glances as the tension in the chamber thickened.

"Who killed my brother?" Adrian repeated, his voice raw and desperate as it reverberated against the tall mahogany panels. "Who killed him? Tell me! Who did this to my brother?"

Darius watched Adrian thrash against his restraints with cold, unbothered detachment, his head resting lightly against the leather back of his wheelchair. "I did," he said calmly. "I’m the one who put a bullet right through your brother’s head, and if you don’t lower your voice, you’ll be joining him in hell sooner than expected."

Adrian’s head snapped toward Darius, his eyes wide, bloodshot, and frantic. "You monster! How dare you..." His fury erupted as he suddenly lunged toward Darius. With a sudden burst of strength, he tore himself free from the armed men holding him, completely catching them off guard and sending one of the operatives stumbling forward. But before Adrian could get any closer to the wheelchair, Basil stepped in, planting a heavy kick directly into his chest and sending him crashing hard onto the polished floor. Adrian grunted as he hit the floor, his bound hands preventing him from breaking his fall.

Basil immediately positioned himself between the fallen man and Darius, his stance firm and defensive. Darius simply looked at Basil’s back, a faint, amused smile curling across his lips.

The action brought back memories.

Adrian struggled to sit up, his hands bound tightly behind him as he dragged himself upright. "You..." he breathed, his chest heaving as he forced himself onto his knees and stared directly at Basil. His expression twisted with a mix of fury and mockery. "Are you really going to join hands with them and betray your family, your own blood?" he spat, his breath ragged.

Basil frowned, his expression hardening as he looked down at him. "What are you talking about?"

"You are a Thorn, Prince Basil!" Adrian snapped, his voice trembling with outrage. "We are your real family! You wouldn’t even have been raised as royalty if we hadn’t switched you with the real prince, so why are you turning your back on us? No matter how much they claim to love and accept you, they will never accept you as their real family, especially when your birth family is actively planning to usurp the throne."

The revelation struck Basil like a lightning bolt as his heart dropped into a cold, hollow void.

’The Thorn family? He was a Thorn?’

He was blood-tied to the highest military powerhouse in the realm, the very dynasty that had commanded armies and shaped the kingdom’s military power for generations. All this time, ever since his world shattered with the news of his illegitimacy, Basil had tortured himself trying to trace his true roots. He had begged Linda for answers. He had torn himself apart wondering where he belonged. And the answer had been sitting right in front of him, hidden behind the sharp, calculating eyes of Field Marshal Thompson Thorn.

’Why didn’t Linda just tell me?’ Basil thought, his breath hitching as a knot of confusion and betrayal tightened in his chest. What exactly was she hiding? What did she believe he would do if he found out? Did she believe he still stood a chance at the throne if he didn’t find his real family? And if he truly belonged to the Thorn bloodline, why had the field marshal always worked against him? Thompson’s voice was always the loudest in the council, relentlessly backing Basil into a corner. He had tried to frame him for Darius’s near-fatal car crash and accused him of orchestrating the hospital assassination attempt. His own biological family had actively worked against him, treated him as a pawn, and lined him up for execution.

The whole thing didn’t make sense to him.

"Don’t listen to him, Basil." The quiet, raspy voice pulled Basil back from the edge of his spiraling thoughts. Darius engaged the joystick on his automatic wheelchair, the electric motor humming softly as he rolled a few inches forward. He reached up, his fingers gently tugging at the cuff of Basil’s sleeve, drawing his attention away from Adrian. Basil looked down at him, his expression still clouded with confusion and disbelief. Darius met his gaze calmly, his eyes carrying none of the uncertainty that had settled over Basil’s own. "Don’t listen to him," he repeated. "You are only a Thorn if you choose to be one. For all I care, and for as long as I draw breath, you will always be Prince Basil, the crown prince of this kingdom. Nothing will change that."

A bitter, quiet smile touched Basil’s lips.

He wanted to believe him. More than anything, he wanted to hold on to the certainty in Darius’s voice, but the truth had already been dragged into the light, and there was no putting it back. Still, he had to trust Darius, and he gave him a small nod, letting his brother’s words quiet the storm inside his head. Darius turned his electric chair around, sweeping his gaze over the horrified councilors huddled around the perimeter of the room.

He raised one hand, gesturing toward the tall, restrained man on the floor. "Gentlemen of the council, allow me to introduce the mastermind behind the entire scheme that has brought this kingdom to the brink of chaos. Supposedly killed in an automobile wreck twenty-five years ago, yet remarkably active in funding private mercenary squads, forging military requisitions, and running the shadow network that just attempted to kill me, frame my brother for treason, and is planning to seize the throne for himself with the help of his brother, Thompson Thorn."

King William stared at Darius in stunned disbelief, his breath catching in his throat. His mind raced as he struggled to comprehend how his son could possibly know all of this. More importantly, how had he even discovered the Thorn family’s involvement? Darius was not supposed to know about the Thorn family, let alone know about their hidden operations, their plans for the throne, and the man who had supposedly been dead for twenty-five years. William’s fist clenched at his side as an unsettling thought crossed his mind. Just how much had Darius uncovered without his knowledge?

"You faked your death just to go into hiding and continue your wicked ways?"