Transmigrated as the Crown Prince's Mate
Chapter 116: Arrest Him...

Chapter 116: Arrest Him...

"Jasper," Eve snapped. "Are they leaving?"

The amusement in Jasper’s eyes dimmed, and he gave a sharp nod. "Palace gates. Right now."

"Shit," Evelina hissed, her body already shifting toward the door.

But Damian was faster.

He was already moving towards the door. "Then we stop them."

Without another word, Evelina and Jasper followed close behind.

They hurried quickly through the palace hallways, startling both nobles and servants along the way. Evelina could feel her heart racing, adrenaline coursing through her veins.

By the time they reached the massive palace gates, the royal guards were mounted on their horses, preparing to leave.

Damian’s voice rang through the courtyard like a whip. "Halt!"

The guards immediately pulled their reins. The horses whinnied, shifting uneasily as the entire group turned toward their prince.

Ethan sat stiffly on his black steed, trying to look calm. But Evelina didn’t miss the way his grip on the reins tightened ever so slightly.

"Prince Damian," one of the guards greeted, bowing his head. "Is there a problem?"

Damian stepped forward. "You and your men are not leaving."

The guards exchanged glances, but no one dared to question him.

Damian’s gaze locked onto Ethan. "Ethan," he called out in an authoritative voice. "Dismount."

Ethan’s jaw twitched. "Your Highness?"

"Step down," Damian repeated, colder this time.

Ethan hesitated.

And that was all the confirmation Evelina needed.

He knows.

Damian’s patience snapped. "Guards!" His voice was sharp and final. "Arrest him."

For a split second, silence hung in the air.

Then—

The guards moved.

Ethan’s horse reared slightly as the men closed in, and for a split second, Evelina caught a glimpse of something in his eyes—calculation. He was weighing his options, debating whether to run.

Too late.

Two guards grabbed his arms, yanking him from his horse ruthlessly. He hit the ground hard, his knees scraping against the stone pavement as another guard twisted his arms behind his back, securing them with iron cuffs.

Ethan gritted his teeth but said nothing.

"Take him to the dungeons," Damian ordered coldly.

Evelina watched as Ethan was pulled away, his face trying to appear indifferent. However, she noticed the tightness in his jaw and the slight tension in his body.

Oh, he was afraid.

He just wasn’t showing it yet.

***************

The dungeons were wet and cold, smelling strongly of old blood and mould. Iron bars lined the walls, and the flickering light from the torches created spooky shadows on the rough surfaces.

Ethan sat in the chair with his arms tied behind him. His posture was stiff but calm. He had no smirk or sign of arrogance—just a calm and thoughtful look as he raised his head to face Damian.

"Your Highness," he greeted respectfully. "I assume there has been some mistake."

Damian’s silver eyes were unreadable as he stared down at him. "You poisoned the well."

Ethan’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away. "With all due respect, I would never do such a thing. I have served this kingdom loyally for years."

Evelina narrowed her eyes. He was good. He wasn’t acting like a cornered man; he wasn’t panicking. He was handling this as if he were innocent.

Or as if he had rehearsed it.

Damian exhaled through his mouth. "Loyalty is a funny thing," he mused, circling the chair. "Some men are loyal until it no longer benefits them. Some men are loyal to the wrong person."

Ethan didn’t react, but the slightest twitch in his fingers didn’t go unnoticed.

Damian stopped in front of him. "So, I’ll ask again. Did you poison the well?"

Ethan lifted his chin. "No, Your Highness. I did not."

There was no hesitation, no falter in his tone.

Damian studied him for a long moment, his expression betraying nothing.

He turned to look at Eve for a while as if saying, "I’m trusting you’re right, Evelina or else I’m punishing the wrong person."

They locked gazes for a few seconds, and Eve nodded, silently confirming her claim.

Then—without warning—Damian’s fist crashed into Ethan’s jaw.

The impact made Ethan’s chair slide a bit, causing his head to jerk to the side. He let out a sharp hiss of pain, but when he looked up again, there was no anger in his expression—just a deep breath, as if he were trying to calm himself.

Evelina folded her arms. "I don’t think he’s going to break easily."

Relia hummed in her mind. "Mmm. Maybe not. But our mate has ways."

Damian spoke in a calm manner, but there was a hint of sharpness beneath his voice. "I don’t have time for lies, Ethan." He stepped closer, his silver eyes flashing red. "I know you did it. And I will find out who ordered you to."

Ethan’s brows furrowed. "I understand your anger, my prince. But I swear on my life—I am innocent."

Damian clenched his jaw, his patience running out. His silver eyes shone faintly in the low torchlight as he took a slow, intentional step closer to Ethan.

"This is my final warning," he said in an eerily calm voice. "Tell me the truth. Now."

Ethan met his gaze steadily. "I have nothing to do with the poisoning, Your Highness."

Damian tilted his head slightly, studying him as if searching for a crack in his resolve.

Then, he exhaled through his nose and shook his head.

"You’re still lying."

Without looking away, he spoke over his shoulder. "Bring the torture rod."

Ethan stiffened.

It was the first real sign of unease Evelina had seen from him. His fingers curled slightly, his breathing just a fraction more controlled.

Oh, he knew what was coming.

The guard stepped forward, carrying a long metal rod with a wooden handle at one end. The other end glowed faintly as if recently polished, but Evelina knew it wasn’t ordinary steel.

It was silver.

When the guard held it out, the scent filled the air intensely. Even Evelina, who wasn’t directly near it, could sense the strange burning sensation against her skin.

Ethan’s calm facade cracked. His nostrils flared a bit, and a light sheen of sweat formed on his forehead.

Damian took the rod, weighing it in his grip before turning back to Ethan.

"You know what silver does to our kind." His voice was still quiet, still level. That was what made it terrifying.

Ethan swallowed. "I—"

"I gave you a chance." Damian cut him off, gripping the wooden handle tightly.

Without another word, he pressed the silver against Ethan’s forearm.

A loud, sizzling sound filled the dungeon.

Ethan’s body convulsed violently, a choked scream escaping his lips as the metal burned his skin. Smoke curled from the point of contact, the stench of burning flesh filling the air.

Evelina kept her expression neutral, but inside, Relia purred with satisfaction.

"Ohhh, I could get used to this."

"Relia." Evelina sighed.

"What? I’m just saying, our mate looks good when he’s handing out justice."

Ethan panted, his head bowing forward as he trembled in pain. But still—he didn’t speak.

Damian didn’t let up. He pressed the rod harder, the silver biting deeper into his skin.

"You’re protecting someone," Damian stated calmly. "And I want to know who."

Ethan let out a ragged breath, his jaw locked in agony.

"You think taking the punishment yourself will protect them?" Damian continued. "That’s admirable. Stupid, but admirable."

Ethan squeezed his eyes shut; his muscles tensed so hard they trembled.

Relia whistled. "Damn. He’s got self-control, I’ll give him that."

Damian withdrew the rod, watching the way Ethan’s hands trembled in the cuffs.

"Who gave the order?" Damian asked evenly.

Ethan was breathing irregularly, and his face showed signs of pain. He swallowed hard, his muscles tense. "Your Highness, I swear—I—"

Damian pressed the silver against his skin again.

This time, Ethan broke.

He let out a choked scream as his body thrashed in the chair. His breathing was rough and uneven, and he seemed to be losing his determination.

The room was silent except for the sound of his laboured breathing.

Then—finally—

"I did it," Ethan rasped.

Damian’s gaze sharpened. "Who ordered you to?"

Ethan’s body trembled. Blood dripped from his split lip, mixing with sweat. His breathing was ragged, his strength barely holding on.

But still—

He hesitated.

Evelina’s stomach twisted.

He’s afraid. Not of dying. But of who he’s protecting.

Damian’s patience thinned. "Give me a name."

Ethan closed his eyes.

And then—his lips parted.

And he spoke. "Lord Matthew."

Damian scoffed. "You’re joking."

Ethan shook his head weakly. "No, Your Highness. I wouldn’t lie to you."

Damian arched a brow. "Well, you’ve been doing that all morning, so forgive me if I have trouble believing you now."

Ethan winced but forced himself to maintain eye contact. "But I’m telling the truth now, Your Highness. Lord Matthew was the one who gave me the instruction to poison the well."

A heavy silence settled in the dungeon.

Evelina exhaled slowly, feeling a bit of relief in her chest. His confession alone exonerated her from the well poisoning. That was one less accusation against her.