Chapter 34 — The Girl They Blamed For The Prince

The tribunal convened beneath the main cathedral dome at noon.

Noctis had transformed the central hall into something halfway between a courtroom and an execution chamber. Imperial banners hung from the upper balconies while military officers occupied the eastern terraces in rigid silence. Priests lined the marble aisles beneath black ceremonial robes, their candle flames flickering faintly beneath the storm-dark light filtering through stained glass overhead.

Every student in the academy had been ordered to attend.

Public humiliation worked best with witnesses.

Evelyn stood alone at the center platform beneath thousands of watching eyes while accusations echoed through the cathedral like scripture.

The empire had decided on its narrative.

And the narrative was her.

“She manipulated the crown prince through prohibited emotional binding.”

“Shadow corruption intensifies in her presence.”

“She compromised military authority during wartime operations.”

“She destabilized the heir deliberately.”

Every sentence landed sharper because the court needed someone human enough to blame for Lucien’s disobedience.

Not the emperor.

Not Project Veil.

Not the empire itself.

A girl.

That was easier politically.

Chancellor Veylor presided over the hearing from the elevated tribunal seat above the cathedral steps. Thin-faced and elegantly dressed in imperial black, he carried the polished calmness of a man who had spent decades destroying lives professionally through language refined enough to resemble civility.

His voice cut cleanly across the hall.

“Evelyn Vale, you are accused of knowingly influencing Crown Prince Lucien Mordane through emotional destabilization resulting in repeated military irregularities.”

The cathedral remained silent.

Evelyn looked toward the upper royal balcony automatically.

Lucien stood there beneath imperial guard supervision beside the emperor.

Black formal military attire.

Dark gloves.

Perfect posture.

But the stillness in him frightened her immediately.

Not calm.

Suppression.

Like every violent instinct inside him had been chained down publicly through sheer force of will.

The emperor watched the tribunal without expression.

Not father.

Never father.

Observer.

Evaluator.

Veylor folded his hands lightly before continuing.

“Since your arrival at Noctis Academy, the prince has demonstrated increased instability, emotional dependency, insubordination toward imperial command, and unauthorized protection of rebel sympathizers.”

The final accusation caused murmurs through the cathedral.

So they knew.

Not everything.

Enough.

Evelyn forced herself to remain motionless despite the cold moving through her chest.

Chancellor Veylor descended slowly from the tribunal platform while speaking.

“The empire tolerated Lucien Mordane’s condition because his loyalty remained intact.” His gaze settled sharply onto Evelyn. “You changed that.”

Above them, stormlight flashed faintly through stained glass.

Veylor stopped directly in front of her.

“Tell this tribunal,” he said softly, “what forbidden methods you used to influence the prince emotionally.”

The question hollowed the room.

Evelyn stared at him.

Then laughed once quietly beneath her breath.

The sound startled several officials nearby.

Veylor’s expression sharpened. “You find this amusing?”

“No.” Evelyn lifted her gaze steadily toward him. “I find it pathetic.”

Silence crashed instantly across the cathedral.

Cassian visibly stopped breathing somewhere in the student rows.

Even General Rhys looked alarmed.

Veylor’s voice lowered dangerously. “Careful.”

Evelyn’s anger had finally burned past fear hours ago.

“You built a weapon out of a child,” she said clearly into the silence, “then acted surprised when he became human around someone.”

The atmosphere changed immediately.

Students shifted uneasily.

Priests exchanged nervous glances.

The emperor remained perfectly still above the tribunal.

But Lucien—

Lucien looked at her with something terrifying unfolding slowly behind his eyes.

Veylor recovered first.

“Your emotional influence over the prince is precisely the issue.”

“No,” Evelyn replied sharply. “The issue is that none of you know how to speak about affection unless you can classify it as corruption.”

The cathedral erupted into murmurs again.

Several officers stood abruptly.

The shadows beneath the royal balcony moved once sharply across the marble.

Lucien.

Veylor noticed too.

Which meant the humiliation became deliberate afterward.

“The prince’s deterioration accelerated after physical contact with Miss Vale,” the chancellor announced loudly to the court. “Witnesses observed increasingly obsessive behavior, emotional irrationality, and violent insubordination directly connected to her presence.”

Every sentence landed like public dissection.

Evelyn finally understood the true purpose of the tribunal.

Not punishment.

Separation.

The empire wanted Lucien ashamed enough of loving her that he would retreat voluntarily back into obedience.

Veylor turned slowly toward the royal balcony.

“Your Highness,” he called evenly, “would you deny your compromised condition?”

The entire cathedral went still.

Lucien did not answer immediately.

Snow and black rain battered the stained-glass windows overhead while thousands of people waited in suffocating silence.

Then Lucien descended the cathedral stairs.

Every guard stiffened instantly.

The shadows followed him slowly down the marble steps beneath flickering stormlight.

Not violent yet.

Watching.

Evelyn’s pulse tightened painfully.

Something was wrong.

Lucien crossed the cathedral floor with terrifying calm until he stopped directly beside her at the center tribunal platform.

Veylor lifted his chin slightly. “The tribunal requests clarification regarding your attachment to Miss Vale.”

Lucien looked toward the chancellor.

And for one brief second, Evelyn saw exactly why empires feared him.

Not because of rage.

Because of restraint finally ending.

“You want clarification?” Lucien asked quietly.

The shadows spread sharply across the cathedral floor.

Several priests stepped backward instinctively.

Lucien turned slowly toward the gathered tribunal members beneath the storm-dark cathedral.

“You isolated me as a child,” he said calmly. “Conditioned me through violence. Buried bodies beneath this academy and called it patriotism.” His gaze shifted briefly toward the emperor above. “And now you’re terrified because someone taught me I was still capable of loving another person afterward.”

Silence.

Absolute.

Veylor’s face lost visible color.

The emperor remained motionless.

But the cathedral itself seemed to recoil around Lucien’s voice now.

“You accuse Evelyn of manipulating me,” Lucien continued softly. “What she actually did was remind me I was human before the empire finished removing the possibility entirely.”

The shadows cracked violently across the marble beneath the tribunal platform.

Students screamed.

Guards reached for weapons.

Lucien ignored all of them.

Then—

before the entire court—

he reached for Evelyn’s hand.

The contact sent visible shockwaves through the cathedral.

Not magical.

Political.

Because Lucien did not hide it.

Did not hesitate.

His gloved fingers closed tightly around hers in front of the empire itself.

Open devotion.

Open defiance.

The shadows settled instantly afterward.

Every person in the cathedral understood the message simultaneously:

Lucien Mordane would burn the empire before surrendering her now.