The Reason Why the Forsaken Fake Returned Chapter 76

After his audience with Queen Ingrid, Caleb walked down the hallway. A long passage lined with portraits of past royals. With every unhurried step he took, the gazes of the courtiers clung to his skin like paper soaked through with water. Curiosity, fear, longing. A tangle of different emotions pressed in on him, but Caleb ignored them and passed each portrait in turn.

 

A princess with a mantle trimmed in silver fox fur and a fan edged with peacock feathers, hiding her mouth. A young man half lounging against a long table. A little boy sitting bolt upright in a chair, eyes brimming with curiosity. In this kingdom, there was a strange superstition: any royal who had their portrait painted while still young would die young. Every youthful face in these paintings belonged to a royal who had died before their time.

 

After walking for some time, Caleb stopped in front of one particular portrait. It was of a young man holding a long sword in one hand and a set of scales in the other. Unlike the others, whose backgrounds were staged as elaborately as theater sets, this one was oddly stark: the young man stood atop a high cliff. One foot was braced on a rock that jutted out over the sheer drop, his gaze fixed straight ahead. His resemblance to Caleb was astonishing.

 

As Caleb reached out and brushed his fingers over the painting, someone approached from behind.

 

“It’s been a while since you’ve seen the first prince, hasn’t it?”

 

“Benjamin.” Caleb turned his head, then soon let his attention drift back to the portrait.

 

The man who had spoken was his right hand, Count Dwibon. The count looked up at the painting with a dreamy expression. “He was truly perfect. If not for that accident, he would have been a king without equal, before or after.”

 

“Most likely. In scholarship, in social grace, in physical strength and stamina. He excelled at all of it.”

No matter how thick and tedious the book, one quick skim was enough for him to remember it all. He tamed wild horses without a saddle and rode across the plains. His courage was as remarkable as his character. Many followed him. His admirers were beyond counting.

 

The first prince, now resting in the royal mausoleum, had been perfect. Even the third prince’s faction admitted as much.

 

“Your Highness resembles your brother greatly.”

 

“You still won’t say I’ve surpassed him. I’ve already outlived him, you know.”

 

“The dead can never be beaten. They’re beautified in memory and revered from mouth to mouth.”

 

At that blunt truth, Caleb’s lips twisted. “I suppose it’s late to say this now, but I actually disliked my brother.”

 

“That’s a lie.”

 

“It’s the truth. He was too perfect. Standing in front of him, I felt like I’d be nothing but his shadow forever. Even at that young age, I sensed it, instinctively.”

 

“This is the royal castle. Many ears are listening, Your Highness.”

 

“Let them listen.”

 

After the provocation at the engagement ceremony and the recent fall of the Diponz family, no one in the royal castle believed any longer in peace or reconciliation between the second and third princes. At most, they speculated that some kind of deal had been struck between the two, and thanks to that deal, the second prince had been allowed to set foot in the royal castle again.

 

Caleb let his hand fall from the painting and ran his fingers over the nameplate engraved beneath it. “But I liked him. I admired and respected him.”

 

Benjamin glanced around, making sure no one was eavesdropping, then lowered his voice to a whisper. “If Your Highness wishes to find clues about the first prince’s death, requesting an audience with His Majesty in this manner will likely prove difficult.”

 

Queen Ingrid had made some move and confined the king to his sickbed after the first prince died, and the former queen followed him to the grave. Some said the king had collapsed from grief after losing both his wife and his son, but that wasn’t true.

 

The royal castle was a place too harsh for any sane person to live. Unless something inside you broke, you couldn’t survive there in the first place. The first prince had been too perfect, and that’s why he died.

 

“Even so, I have to keep showing my face here for now. Only then will the queen believe she’s seen through me.”

 

Caleb walked a few steps past the first prince’s portrait and touched the empty space beside it. That was where the former queen’s portrait had once hung. When the portraits were moved from the old gallery to this one, a fire had conveniently broken out and destroyed it. No one was foolish enough to believe that it had been a simple accident.

 

“Any news from Albert’s side?”

 

“The poison we set loose is finally starting to spread. Word is he’s so deep into gambling now he can’t drag himself away until late at night.”

 

What Caleb had handed over wasn’t merely the luxury goods trade for which he had secured exclusive rights. Along with it came a gambling culture. The business partners Albert met would have drawn him into their gambling tables as naturally as breathing.

 

“My dear younger brother has always been honest about his desires and fond of a thrill. The outcome was obvious. Prostitution, drugs, and gambling are inseparable best friends.”

 

“For the moment, it looks like he’s keeping the stakes small enough to avoid the queen’s notice, but I expect he’ll slowly start raising the amounts.”

 

“If it looks like he’s about to cross the line we set, rein him in a bit. Adjust things.”

 

“Understood.”

 

By now, the morning sun had grown quite sharp. Caleb lifted the hand that had been tracing the empty mark and made a shade over his brows. For a moment, the long shadow spilling from his feet looked to him like a deep bog. Scoffing at his own foolish fancy, Caleb started walking again.

 

“Eric is waiting outside. Will you come with me?”

 

“No, Your Highness. Then, if you’ll excuse me.” Benjamin escorted him as far as the front of the palace.

 

Once Caleb climbed into the carriage, Eric, having exchanged a brief farewell with his father, rapped twice on the carriage door with one hand. At the signal to depart, the coachman pulled on the reins and dug his heels into the horse’s flanks. The carriage rocked a little as the horses broke into a full run. Eric drew the curtains over the windows and reported at once.

 

“Negotiations with the rebel forces are nearly wrapped up, and five of the ten most influential noble houses have declared their support.”

 

“Five houses? I’d have counted myself lucky to get three.”

 

“Our luck’s been better than expected. For all their pretense, there are plenty who are biting their tongues over Queen Ingrid’s extravagance and Prince Albert’s debauchery.”

 

“But Duke Perus is still on the queen’s side, and Albert’s side, and most of the key members of the noble houses aligned with him largely support the queen.”

 

“They enjoy privileges granted only to them. If we offer terms even better than that, there’s every chance we can win them over.”

 

“You’re suggesting we hand over bone and flesh and keep only the skin?”

 

Caleb snorted and shook his head. “I want to be their king, not a slave wearing a crown.”

 

Unlike under the late king, when royal authority had been strong, the kingdom was now being run in practice by the queen and noble houses. To defend her position, the queen kept showering the great nobles with lands and privileges, and they used those privileges to squeeze their subjects dry. A large share of that money went to fund Queen Ingrid’s luxuries and Albert’s indulgent lifestyle.

 

“In one nation, the farmers once rose up, executed their landlords, and sparked a rebellion. If this continues, it won’t be long before the royal palace burns and the heads of the queen and her son hang from the watchtower.”

 

Listening to him, Eric slowly rubbed a hand over the goosebumps on the back of his other hand. This was why the man before him sometimes frightened him. No matter how cruel or horrific the words coming out of his mouth, his tone and inflection never changed. Even when he was issuing a warning or a prophecy, his face and voice stayed flat, as if none of it had anything to do with him. The only time Caleb’s voice ever turned soft, as if smoothed with a whetstone, was in front of one particular woman.

 

“Come to think of it, we had a visitor today.”

 

“A visitor?”

 

Caleb, who had been about to close his eyes in boredom, glanced over at Eric. But at the answer he received, he turned his head away again.

 

“Lady Perus came by. She was quite insistent on seeing you.”

 

“Keep telling her I’m unavailable.”

 

“She may still have value to us.”

 

Caleb leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Eric was right. Even if it didn’t go as far as breaking off her engagement with Albert, Octavia Perus had only just begun to edge closer to him, and with the right coaxing, he might be able to pry loose some of Duke Perus’s dirty secrets. But he was sick of it. Sick of all of it.

 

“Was there ever a time you were sincere with me?”

 

When Shailoh had said it, she neither cried nor smiled. She hadn’t raged or clung to him. She had merely asked, as though confirming a simple fact.

 

“Come to think of it, I haven’t seen Miss Griche around lately. According to the guards assigned to her, she practices at the theater all night.”

 

“Her revenge is over, so she must feel relieved. Leave her be.”

 

To Caleb, Octavia Perus and Shailoh carried the same weight. They had to. But at the words that followed, his closed eyes flew open.

 

“It seems she overexerted herself again yesterday and fainted.”

 

The carriage, which had been rolling straight ahead for quite some time, suddenly swung into a sharp turn. The horses, stung by the whip, snorted and charged toward their new destination.