The commission meeting adjourned in a buzz of redirected loyalties and shocked respect. Hadrian and Seraphina did not linger. They had one more piece of business.
They went directly to the King's private study, where King Maris was, as planned, reviewing Lord Greymont's opera house proposal. Greymont was there, looking smug, a roll of traditional, ponderous blueprints under his arm.
"Ah, Hadrian! Seraphina!" Maris boomed, though his eyes were curious. "Come in. Greymont here is showing me a… solid alternative to your tempest-in-a-teacup design."
Greymont preened. "Sire, sometimes the old ways are best. Grandeur. Permanence. Not… seashells and gossip."
Hadrian didn't look at the blueprints. He looked at the King. "Father. Before you consider any design, there is a matter of palace security and the safety of your grandchildren that requires your immediate attention."
All levity vanished from King Maris's face. "What matter?"
Hadrian laid it out,concise and brutal. The terrace meetings. The payments. The nanny's manipulation of the children's fears. He presented Bowen's testimony and the financial record. He did not editorialize. The facts were damning enough.
King Maris's face turned thunderous. He was a man of old-fashioned codes, and using children as pawns was beyond the pale. "Where is this woman?"
"Confined to the nursery under guard,as per Seraphina's order," Hadrian said.
"And Berrick?"
"Likely in his quarters,believing he has only lost a political battle."
Maris rose, a force of nature. "Bring them. Here. Now."
Miss Elda was brought first, trembling and tearful. She took one look at the King's face and fell to her knees, babbling apologies, blaming Berrick's coercion, her own family's debts.
"You served poison to the minds of my grandchildren," Maris said, his voice like grinding stone. "You are banished from the kingdom. You will leave within the hour under guard. If you are ever seen within our borders again, you will spend the rest of your days in a dungeon. Get her out of my sight."
She was dragged away, sobbing.
Then came Lord Berrick. He entered with a remnant of bluster, which died when he saw the King's expression, the presence of Hadrian and Seraphina, and the damning papers on the desk.
Maris didn't let him speak. "You conspired against the Crown. You suborned a royal servant. You sought to weaponize the fears of innocent children against their parents, my daughter and son-in-law, for political gain. You are a disgrace to your title and a stain on this court."
Berrick paled. "Sire, I only sought to ensure fiscal prudence—"
"You sought to destroy!"Maris roared. "Your lands and titles are forfeit. You will retire to your remote estate in the northern mountains, and you will not set foot in the capital again. Your seat on the council is vacated. Now, get out."
It was a death sentence for his political life. Berrick, broken and silent, was led away.
In the echoing silence that followed, Lord Greymont slowly began to roll up his blueprints, his earlier smugness replaced by cold sweat. The King turned his gaze on him.
"As for you, Greymont… your 'solid' design is dismissed. The opera house will be the Aria of the Tides. You will assist Prince Hadrian in its realization, without obstruction or complaint, or you may join Berrick in the mountains. Do you understand?"
Greymont bowed deeply, his face ashen. "Perfectly, Your Majesty."
When they were finally alone—King Maris, Hadrian, and Seraphina—the old king slumped into his chair, looking suddenly weary. "I knew he was ambitious. I did not know he was monstrous." He looked at his daughter and son-in-law. "You handled this. Together. You trapped a snake without getting bitten. You protected the children." He nodded, a gruff, profound approval. "The model. It is a good design. Build it."
He waved them out, needing to sit with the ugliness that had festered in his court.
In the corridor outside, the tension of the day finally broke over them. Seraphina leaned back against the cold wall, closing her eyes, her breath coming in short gasps. The emotional toll was crashing down.
Hadrian stood before her, his own hands shaking with spent adrenaline. He didn't touch her. They just stood there in the empty hall, survivors on a battlefield, the silence between them not a void, but a shared, shell-shocked space.
After a long moment, she opened her eyes. They were clear, fierce, alive. "It's done."
"It's done,"he echoed.
They didn't go to a celebration. They went, by unspoken agreement, to the schoolroom. The model of the Aria stood on the table, no longer a symbol of mockery or a piece of bait, but simply theirs. A testament.
Leo and Isla looked up from their lessons, their faces questioning. Seraphina knelt and pulled them both into a tight, silent hug. Hadrian placed a hand on each of their heads.
"The wolf is gone," Isla stated, her voice muffled against her mother's shoulder.
"Yes,starfish," Seraphina whispered, her voice thick. "The wolf is gone."
Leo looked at the model,then at his father. "Did the bridge hold?"
Hadrian met his son's gaze."It held, Leo. It held."