The soft rustle of pages and the faint scent of old paper fill the palace library, my favorite place of solace. But today, it's a classroom.
Cassian reclines in the grandest chair by the window, legs slightly spread, arms folded in mock attentiveness. His golden robe is undone at the collar, hinting at comfort, but his gaze remains sharp and attentive. I stand near a mounted whiteboard I had Esther help me set up earlier, marker in hand and law books open beside me. My makeshift legal classroom.
"Nuisance," I begin, pointing to the word boldly written in black ink. "In law, nuisance is an unlawful interference with a person's use or enjoyment of land. It could be noise, pollution, obstruction or any repeated activity that causes significant inconvenience to the person who has the legal right to that property."
Cassian raises a brow. "So if my neighbor decides to raise a pen of royal goats beside my chamber window and they keep me up all night, I can sue?"
I can't help but chuckle. "Absolutely—if it's persistent and unreasonable. You'd have a strong case, Your Highness."
"What if the goat is sacred?"
"Then we're going to need a very diplomatic judge," I reply, earning a grin from him.
He leans forward, intrigued. "You mentioned two kinds—what are they again?"
"Private and public nuisance," I say, shifting my weight slightly and gesturing to the two bullet points. "Private nuisance affects a specific person or a limited group. Public nuisance affects the community or general public, like blocking a main road or polluting a town's only water source."
He taps his fingers together thoughtfully. "I see. So, if someone spreads false news that disrupts public peace...?"
"That could fall under public nuisance, or even criminal defamation, depending on the intent and consequences," I finish with a nod.
Cassian gives a small clap. "Brilliant, Counselor Celeste. Remind me to make you Minister of Justice someday."
I roll my eyes playfully. "One legal principle at a time, Your Majesty."
We're both laughing when a muffled noise breaks our rhythm. Raised voices echo through the palace corridor.
Cassian's smile fades. "What was that?"
We exchange a glance and rush out together, robes swishing behind us as we follow the sound down the marbled hall.
At the corridor leading to the east wing, two guards stand firm, gripping a man who's panting, his clothes slightly torn, eyes wild. Lord Johnson. His once pristine composure is in shambles, robe disheveled, sandals dragging, a streak of blood by his temple. He looks nothing like the dignified Council member I saw once nodding stoically during a Royal Summit.
"Release me!" he shouts at the guards, but his voice is strained, unstable. "I demand to see the King!"
Cassian steps forward, his presence commanding instant silence. "You're in the wrong palace wing and in no position to demand anything."
Lord Johnson's gaze lifts to Cassian, then falters when it meets mine.
I remain still, breathing evenly, watching him crumble.
Cassian's voice cuts through the tension like a blade. "What's the meaning of this?"
The older man swallows. "I...I need protection… They've turned on me. My allies...my own guard...he's gone rogue. He's trying to kill me!"
A hush falls over the hall.
Cassian's expression darkens. "Which guard?"
Lord Johnson opens his mouth to answer but sways. The guards catch him before he falls.
I don't say a word. But my mind is already turning, calculating.
The web is starting to untangle.
And the spider just stumbled into our trap.
"My lord?" Cassian's voice is calm, clipped. The restraint in it is almost admirable.
"Let him speak," I murmur to the guards. They step back just slightly, though their hands remain close to their weapons.
Johnson lifts his head, eyes darting around like a cornered animal. "I must see the Queen immediately. I require her protection. It's urgent."
Cassian folds his arms slowly, the weight of his authority expanding. "From whom?"
"From my own guard!" Johnson nearly shouts. "He's gone rogue—he's betrayed me. He's dangerous. He intends to fabricate lies that could destroy this entire kingdom!"
That's rich, I think. But I say nothing yet.
Cassian tilts his head, eyes narrowing slightly. "Your guard. You mean Bako?"
Johnson stiffens. "No—Bako fled days ago. I dismissed him."
I exchange a subtle glance with Cassian.
He doesn't look at me, but his lips barely move as he whispers, "Bako is in a private cell beneath the eastern wing. I had him brought in three nights ago."
My eyes widen slightly. So this is the game.
Cassian turns back to Johnson with unbothered composure. "That's interesting," he says, tone feather-light but sharp. "Because Bako was seen around the city not long ago, looking very... cooperative."
Johnson's mouth opens, but no words come. Just the sound of panic building behind his eyes.
"I'm requesting an audience with Her Majesty!" he insists, louder this time. "The Queen needs to hear from me before that traitor poisons the court against me."
I step forward, just slightly. "And what exactly are you so afraid the Queen might believe?"
He stares at me, trembling faintly. "I served this kingdom loyally for years."
"That's not what I asked."
His lips press into a thin line. "Whatever Bako claims—whatever Nancy has told you—it is all lies. They've been manipulated."
"By whom?" Cassian presses. "Us?"
Johnson's silence is a confession all on its own.
"I would like to speak to the Queen," he mutters again, but softer now. Almost defeated.
Cassian doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he studies him with surgical precision. "You'll be escorted to a holding chamber. You may have your audience with counsel present, when we're ready."
"No. Please. If I don't speak to her now..."
"You'll speak when spoken to," I cut in, stepping fully beside Cassian. "And until then, I suggest you pray the lies you've sown don't come choking back down your throat."
The guards move. Johnson doesn't resist, not really. Whatever resolve he had is leaking out of him like air from a slashed tire.
As they drag him away, I finally exhale.
Cassian watches him disappear before speaking again. "He's trying to flip the story. Classic preemptive damage control."
"And you think Bako will hold his ground?"
He nods once. "He will. He wants immunity, not a grave."
We walk slowly back toward the hallway that leads to the inner wing. "It's unraveling now," I say. "The entire web."
Cassian's voice is low. "And we're holding the fire."