Transmigrated as the Crown Prince's Mate
Chapter 192: The Court’s Decision...

Chapter 192: The Court’s Decision...

The morning sunlight peeked through the thick curtains, filling the room with a warm, golden light that landed on the messy sheets and soft skin. Evelina was the first to wake up, feeling warm and relaxed, still buzzing from the night before.

Damian had his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close. She could feel his warm breath on her neck, and it made her smile. As she stretched a little, he tightened his hold on her.

"Where do you think you’re going?" His voice was thick with sleep, rough and lazy, sending a shiver down her spine.

She turned in his arms, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "As much as I’d love to stay in bed, we have a council meeting to attend."

Damian groaned, burying his face in the crook of her neck. "They can wait."

Evelina let out a small laugh, pushing against his chest. "You’re the Crown Prince, Damian. You can’t just skip a council meeting because you want to spend the day in bed with me."

His silver eyes, still clouded with sleep, flickered open. "That’s exactly what I’d like to do." His hand slid lower, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along her hip.

She swatted his hand away playfully. "Later," she promised. But you owe me another dance."

Damian chuckled. "I’ll give you as many as you want once we’ve dealt with Luther."

"Better."

With a resigned sigh, Damian finally let her go, watching as she slipped from the bed.

His gaze darkened as she walked toward the bathing chamber, completely unbothered by her nakedness. "You’re going to be the death of me," he muttered.

Evelina smirked over her shoulder. "At least you’ll die happy."

Damian stayed a few minutes more before dragging himself out too and joining her in the bathroom.

Soon after, they were both out, dressing quickly.

The air still felt intimate as Damian buttoned up his coat and Evelina smoothed her dress.

But with those simple actions, the heaviness of the day started to sink in. By the time they arrived at the council chamber, the tension between them was thick and unmistakable.

—

The grand council hall was filled with Arcadia’s most influential figures. Lords and nobles sat in their designated seats, murmuring among themselves as they waited for the proceedings to begin.

At the head of the room, King Lucien observed everything with a sharp, unreadable gaze.

Luther sat across from them, flanked by two guards. He looked calm, but Evelina noticed the tension in his jaw and how his fingers gripped the armrest of his chair.

Damian stepped forward, placing the evidence onto the long council table. The wine bottle from the tunnel, the letter from Brenton, and the most damning of all—the poisons’ recipes, all in Luther’s own handwriting.

"Let’s not waste time," Damian said, his voice ringing with authority. "We have irrefutable proof of Lord Luther’s crimes."

Murmurs spread throughout the room.

One of the older council members, Lord Doran, frowned as he adjusted his spectacles. "And what crimes, exactly, are you accusing Lord Luther of?"

Damian’s silver eyes burned with quiet fury. "Treason."

The room stilled.

Evelina took over in a clear voice. "We have evidence linking him to Prince Damian’s poisoning, the poisoning at the well, among others, in Arcadia."

Luther scoffed, leaning back in his chair. "You expect me to believe this? A collection of what? Letters, notes that can be forged?"

Damian’s lips curled into something almost amused. "Then deny it under oath."

A silence stretched across the chamber. Everyone knew what that meant. Arcadia’s enchanted oaths ensured that anyone who spoke under its influence could not lie.

Luther hesitated—a split second too long.

The murmurs returned, louder now.

Realizing he was losing ground, Luther straightened and fixed Damian with a smirk. "I see what this is. You’re trying to remove me, not with honour, but with fabricated lies."

His gaze flicked to Evelina. "And why shouldn’t I assume she’s behind this? A disgraced noblewoman, a woman who wields power she should not have. Perhaps she’s the one manipulating you, Prince Damian."

Evelina exhaled sharply, but she did not let her temper rise. Instead, she let out a small laugh. "Really? That’s your defense? That I bewitched him?" She shook her head. "Desperate men always grasp at the most pathetic straws."

A few of the council members chuckled at her sharp retort.

Still, some looked hesitant.

While Damian and Evelina had presented strong evidence, Arcadia’s laws required full consensus before judgment could be passed on a noble of Luther’s status.

Some council members argued for imprisonment, others called for execution, and the room descended into chaos.

Luther, sensing the instability, made his move.

In one swift motion, he lunged at the nearest guard, but Damian was faster and blocked his path.

"You don’t get to run this time," he growled.

The council chamber erupted. Some demanded his immediate execution. Others, still loyal to the old ways, hesitated.

King Lucien stood, his expression unreadable. "Enough." His voice carried across the hall, silencing the chaos. He looked at Luther, then at the gathered nobles. "We will deliberate on his final sentence. But for now, Lord Luther will be imprisoned."

Luther seethed but said nothing as the guards escorted him away.

The heavy tension in the council chamber lingered even after Luther left. The gathered nobles still murmured, some exchanging uneasy glances, while others looked relieved.

Then, King Lucien stood once more, his gaze sweeping over the room.

"There is another matter to address," he said, his deep voice carrying over the murmurs. "Evelina Drewstone."

Evelina straightened, keeping her expression neutral, though her fingers curled slightly at her sides.

"For weeks now, accusations have been cast against you—whispers of betrayal, exile, and dark magic." His sharp gaze softened just slightly. "Yet today, you have proven your loyalty to Arcadia."

She inhaled slowly, her heart hammering.

"In light of the evidence, I hereby decree Lady Evelina free of all former accusations." His voice rang with finality. "Her name shall be restored, her honor unquestioned."

A collective breath seemed to release across the chamber. Evelina barely registered the scattered applause, the nods of approval. She only realised she had been holding her breath when it finally left her in a rush.

It was over.

A hand wrapped around hers—Damian’s. His grip was firm, warm, and grounding. She turned to him, finding his silver eyes filled with pride and something deeper, something that made her chest tighten.

The king dismissed the court, and the nobles began to filter out, still murmuring about the outcome. Some congratulated her in passing, others shot unreadable glances, but Evelina didn’t care.

She had won.

She turned to Damian, unable to stop the wide grin from forming. "It’s done."

He pulled her close without hesitation. "You’re free," he murmured against her temple.

Before she could respond, his lips crashed onto hers.

The kiss was fierce, filled with triumph and something rawer—relief. His hand cradled the back of her neck, his body pressing against hers as if to anchor them in this moment.

The world blurred around them.

A loud cough broke them apart.

"By the gods, do you two ever stop?"

Evelina turned to see Jasper smirking at them, arms crossed.

"Jealous, Jasper?" she teased, her lips still tingling.

Jasper rolled his eyes. "Please, I prefer my celebrations with ale, not unnecessary public displays of affection."

Damian chuckled. "Then let’s celebrate properly." He turned to Evelina, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. "What do you say?"

Evelina’s heart swelled. "I’d say we’ve earned it."

—

The streets of Arcadia hummed with life as the city buzzed with the latest news. The council’s decision spread like wildfire—Luther was imprisoned, his treachery exposed, and Evelina’s honor was restored.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Evelina walked through the palace halls without the weight of suspicion trailing behind her.

The celebration began in the prince’s private hall, a grand but intimate chamber lined with tall windows overlooking the glowing city below. The golden chandeliers flickered warmly, casting a soft glow on the polished wooden floors and velvet-draped walls.

A feast had been prepared—roast meats, spiced wine, and pastries dusted with sugar—all set upon an elegantly laid table.

Damian, ever the gracious host, poured Evelina a goblet of Arcadian red, his smirk teasing as he handed it to her. "To freedom," he said.

She met his gaze, lifting her glass to his. "And to justice."

They clinked their goblets together, the deep red liquid swirling as they took their first sips. The wine was rich and warm, settling in her stomach like the comfort of victory.

Jasper, despite his earlier reluctance, had also taken a seat at the grand table. He slouched in his chair, boots kicked up on an empty stool as he raised his own cup. "I suppose I should drink to that as well," he muttered, taking a long sip.

Evelina arched a brow. "You suppose?"

Jasper grinned, setting his goblet down with a thud. "Fine. To Lady Evelina, for finally proving all those tight-laced nobles wrong."

Damian chuckled, shaking his head. "You truly have no sense of decorum, do you?"

Jasper smirked. "None whatsoever, Your Highness."