The Tyrant's Pet

Roman had a plan.

When Joaquin gave his orders about the surprise attack to the rebel group, the seventh prince's gut feeling told him the crown prince was testing him. Thus, he took the gamble and proceeded with the preparation and then… die.

Or rather, Roman planned to fake his death along with the knights. He couldn't stay beside the crown prince since Joaquin was far more ruthless to traitors.

But what Roman didn't expect was that the knights who came with him with this attack weren't the crown prince's people. They were secretly replaced with his own; the knights who fought alongside him for years. Thus, while he tried to run away, he was stopped when a hand grabbed his foot, asking him for help.

His world stopped for a moment as the series of explosions blew off after recognizing the person whose veil was pulled down.

Then it hit him.

Not all the knights in the area were Joaquin's people. Some were his.

Roman knew Joaquin wasn't just his enemy, but time as well. A second of hesitation could spoil his plans, but with his men dying partly because of him, he couldn't turn his back on them. Therefore, with gritted teeth, he drag the knight to a safe place he knew and then returned to the scene to save more of his people.

However, before he could save more of his people, Roman was surrounded by the crown prince's men. In his best shape, they wouldn't even touch the seventh prince. But it was relatively easy to capture him with the thick smoke, exhaustion, and injuries he inflicted by saving his men on the hill full of explosives. He put up a fight, but it was futile.

In the end, the crown prince's people dragged Roman back to the dungeon in the inner palace.

"Ughhh!"

Roman ground his teeth at the searing pain of the hot iron they would consistently press on his thigh. There were no questions asked and simply tortured him while he was bound in a chair.

"Ahhh!!" his shouts once again echoed in the enclosed dungeon when the branding iron touched his other leg. His entire body trembled, struggling to free himself from his binds on instinct but to no avail.

It was hell and Joaquin wasn't here yet. Once the crown prince arrived here, Roman could only think of the worse.

The seventh prince panted for air, unable to close his mouth as sweats and saliva dripped down on his body. The gamble he took… Roman lost miserably and he could only blame himself. If he didn't hesitate and turn his back on his men, he could've been proclaimed dead with them or gotten branded as a traitor.

Hanging his head low, the torture stopped to give him time to recover. As he was gasping for air, he heard footsteps. They were calm before he caught a shadow stretching towards him and then a pair of boots. When he looked up, all he saw from his blurring vision was Joaquin approaching him while the latter was fixing his black gloves.

"Rome…" Joaquin's voice was calm yet dark, reaching for the iron's handle and letting it sit in the fire pit. "I had always been curious why someone as righteous as you would support me."

"At first, I thought it was because of Carlos. You always have a confrontation with him and since that dead man sided with Ismael, you supported me to spite him," he continued and cocked his head back, indifferent eyes at the disheveled seventh prince. "We had a long history, Rome, and we built our trust from scratch."

Joaquin lifted the hot iron and pressed it against Roman's chest, inducing a deafening scream which echoed in his ear like thunder. Yet, the crown prince was unfazed while his brother writhe in pain, struggling in the chair to break away.

"You know I never forgive traitors." His voice hit another level of low, almost unheard by the seventh prince's scream. "I won't kill you easily, though. I'll take my time, kill you bit by bit. Until you tell me… who else are the members of the Valiente Group?"

The crown prince's eyes glinted, retracting the hot iron and peeling Roman's clothes and a part of his skin. Roman had been Joaquin's henchman, and he executed many orders by the crown prince.

Now that Joaquin was certain Roman was a traitor, everything was like puzzle pieces put into place: the fire in the eighth prince's quarter, the seal from Violet, and those failed operations in the past that Joaquin didn't dwell on that much. But that wasn't all because Joaquin was more concerned about whether Roman killed the people, Joaquin asked him to silence or faked their deaths and was now part of the Valiente Group.

Assuming it was the latter, then… the Valiente fighters must cease to exist.

"Oh, Rome… we will have fun together." Joaquin chuckled wickedly, planning to make him talk after torturing him.

<strong>******</strong>

<strong>[ JADE PALACE ]</strong>

<strong>SLAM!</strong>

"That fool…!" Ismael's eyes shook as she slammed his palms on the desk of his study room after hearing the emergency report from his spy. "Fucking Joaquin… Rome… now of all times…"

He ground his teeth, seething in anger. Just now, his spy told him about the secret attack Joaquin conducted and Roman being in the crown prince's custody. The third prince wasn't dumb to grasp the situation and what happened.

"Why didn't he…" Ismael trailed off as an answer to his question crossed his head.

Through Roman, Ismael had always known Joaquin's movements until now. But this surprise attack wasn't in the plan. That only meant Joaquin must've sensed something amiss and changed his plan, taking Roman by surprise. Therefore, the seventh prince didn't have time to report to Ismael and was forced to resolve things on his own by faking his death to avoid spoiling their plans. But alas, since Roman was now held captive, he failed.

"That fool…!" Ismael stomped his feet towards the stand and snatched his coat to call for an emergency meeting. Joaquin would kill Roman. Knowing the crown prince, he wouldn't kill the seventh prince immediately, but he would surely put him through hell. They needed to rescue Roman before it was too late.

But just as Ismael was about to cross the threshold of his quarter, a figure suddenly appeared at the end of the corridor. The end of a sword handle was thrust onto his chest, stopping the third prince in an instant.

Ismael's eyes shook as he held his breath for a moment, gazing at the person in the dark and just right in front of him. When the light from the sconce hit the person's face, the third prince's eyes dilated.

"Making a move now will only give the crown prince an upper hand," said Curtis with eyes as sharp as a dagger. "Don't let your emotions overtake your judgment."

"You…" Ismael's voice shook as he balled his hand into a tight fist. "… she sold Roman out, did she?"