Chapter 343: The Game of Numbers
Chapter 342: The Game of Numbers
Lucian did not say anything to that at first.
He simply observed the Queen, his gaze steady and unreadable, taking in every nuance of her expression. The candlelight flickered across her face, casting shadows that seemed to deepen the lines of weariness she could not quite conceal.
Then he spoke.
"Do you truly think that is a wise decision, Your Majesty?" he asked, his voice carrying a note of careful consideration. "With the entire kingdom paying such close attention to the Selection, it seems rather... risky to impose such restrictions."
The Queen chuckled, the sound low and dismissive.
"This whole Selection is nothing more than a farce, Your Grace. You know that as well as I do. The kingdom only watches what the royal family wishes them to watch. They do not see the dates. They do not see the private moments, the conversations, the quiet exchanges that happen beyond their view."
She paused, her smile widening slightly.
"And besides," she continued, her voice carrying a note of cold satisfaction, "it will not be long before the entire kingdom sees the scum for what she truly is. Nothing more than scum."
Lucian did not respond.
He simply nodded, his expression carefully neutral. There was no point in arguing with her, no benefit to be gained from defending Lyria against her accusations. The Queen had made up her mind long ago, and nothing he said would change it.
Instead, he inclined his head and spoke.
"Thank you for looking after me, Your Majesty."
The Queen waved her hand dismissively, though there was a hint of warmth in her voice that had not been there before.
"You are my nephew, after all. It is only natural that I should look after you."
Lucian turned to leave, his steps measured and unhurried.
Then he paused.
He stopped just short of the door. He did not turn around immediately, but his voice carried a note of casual curiosity.
"I am curious, though," he said. "How exactly did you make it so that I would fight a specific opponent tomorrow when it is meant to be a ballot?"
The chamber fell silent.
The Queen’s gaze sharpened. She studied him with renewed intensity, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.
"Why do you wish to know?" she asked.
Lucian turned to face her, his expression one of mild interest.
"Simply curiosity, Your Majesty," he said. "I understand if I have crossed a line. I can see myself out."
He bowed, his movements slow and deliberate, and began to walk towards the door once more.
Inside, he hoped she would actually tell him.
He needed to know how the ballot was rigged. If he understood the mechanism, he could use it to his advantage. He could ensure Julian drew the same number as Marquess Blackvale.
The Queen’s voice stopped him.
"It is rather easy, after all."
Lucian turned, his expression one of polite confusion.
"Pardon?"
"You wished to know how I did it," she said. "It is rather simple, really."
She settled back against the headboard, her composure returning.
"The box is adjusted so that when each suitor takes a number, it is only that number."
Lucian’s brow furrowed.
"I am confused," he said carefully. "I thought everyone would simply pick a number as is normal in a ballot where all the numbers are placed in a box."
He did not tell her that he now knew through her that the ballot would be conducted using numbers drawn from a box.
The Queen laughed lightly.
"The box is a bit different," she said. "Once a suitor picks a number, the footman will press a compartment on the box before the next suitor does so. And so it will continue for the others. No one will suspect a thing."
Lucian nodded slowly, his expression one of admiration.
"That is quite brilliant," he said.
The Queen smiled, clearly pleased by his response.
"We have brilliant people in the palace willing to do anything for me," she said. "It is simply a matter of knowing how to use them."
She yawned then.
"You may see yourself off," she said. "Next time, wait. I will send you information about the competition when I deem it necessary."
Lucian bowed.
"I am grateful, Your Majesty. I will not disappoint you."
The Queen smirked.
"You cannot, even if you tried to."
Lucian bowed once more and walked out of the chambers.
The door clicked shut behind him, and he stood in the corridor for a brief moment, allowing the weight of the conversation to settle over him.
Now that the information had been obtained, the next step was to ensure Julian picked the same number as Marquess Blackvale.
Given his spies within the palace, that would be rather easy to achieve.
He made his way through the dimly lit corridors, his footsteps silent against the polished stone. The palace was quiet at this hour, the servants having retreated to their quarters, the nobles having retired to their chambers.
When he reached his chambers, he did not hesitate.
He crossed to his writing desk and retrieved a small piece of parchment. His quill moved swiftly across the page, the words brief and precise.
It is done.
He folded the parchment, then summoned his valet.
"See that this reaches Benedict," he said, his voice low.
His valet nodded. He did not need to be told that it was to be discreet.
Lucian watched his valet go.
There were people watching them, of course. There were always people watching. The royal family’s spies were everywhere, hidden in the shadows, lurking in the corners, waiting for any sign of betrayal.
But Lucian had ways of interacting within the palace. Ways they would never know.
He had spent years cultivating his network, building relationships, establishing trust. He knew which servants could be relied upon, which guards could be bribed, which nobles could be manipulated.
And now, that network would serve him well.
He crossed to the window and stared out at the darkened grounds below. The moon hung low in the sky, casting silver light across the gardens. The world seemed peaceful, almost serene.
But he knew better.
Beneath the surface, the game continued. Moves and countermoves, alliances and betrayals, secrets and lies.