Jacob didn’t waste his breath with a reply when Regis continued to try to get under his skin. Every bit of the rebel’s behavior signaled that he wasn’t reasonable enough to speak with anymore. He already knew that Nox-Fleuret was proud that he’d killed the heir to the crown and that he was going to have to tell Atlas that his son was dead. He also knew that Aproveset was the most powerful tool the military had to get unruly prisoners to cooperate. No matter what the madman said, the soldiers would have what they wanted soon enough. They would find out what the rebels had done with their prince’s body as well as uncover the secrets they needed to finish off what was left of the Scourge. He trusted the interrogators to do their jobs, so he left the prison to do his own.

On the drive back to the palace, he silently planned out what he was going to say to King Atlas when he saw him. Telling a parent that their child had been killed was one thing; telling a monarch that his only heir had been taken from him was quite another. He didn’t know how Atlas was going to react when he found out. There was every chance that he would have a plethora of his guards sentenced to death—present company not excluded—but it was equally possible that the news would break him. As much as he loathed to admit it, Aspiria was in a dangerous place now that the royal line was hanging by a thread. Regis had succeeded in hacking off the last branch of the tree. If anything happened to their current ruler during this time, he didn’t have any idea what would happen to the monarchy as a whole. The entire nation could very well descend into chaos.

With that unnerving thought in mind, he climbed out of his car and headed into the palace, stiff with apprehension as he made his way up to Atlas’s bedroom. When he reached it, he knocked on the door, “Your Majesty, it’s Curry.”

There was a fraction of a pause before a servant opened the door, and he stepped inside. As always, Atlas was reclining on his bed, propped up with a small mountain of pillows. He looked worse every day, and this morning was no exception. The stress seemed to be taking a toll on his physical health, because he looked even frailer than usual, with pale skin and hardly any meat left on his aging bones. Even his voice was slightly raspy as he spoke: “So, tell me the news. Did you find my Caspian last night?”

Jacob shifted his weight. The last time he’d spoken with the monarch had been after the surveillance team had traced Regis to a house in Tongsen. He’d told Atlas that they believed that was where the rebels were keeping the prince, and the king had gotten his hopes up that they would bring the missing royal back to the palace. He wished he could have brought that news with him, but unfortunately, things had taken a nosedive for the worse.

“We did not,” he reported.

“What do you mean you did not?” Atlas’s expression immediately hardened.

Jacob took a steeling breath. “We closed in on Nox-Fleuret’s hideout and found him inside the building as expected. He tried to put up a fight, but he was alone, so we apprehended him without any casualties. However…” He faltered for a second before he continued: “Prince Caspian wasn’t there. All we found was an empty cell in the basement. Nox-Fleuret claims that he already killed him before we arrived, and sadly, we have every reason to believe he’s telling us the truth.”

As he finished the report, Atlas stared at him without speaking. His face was unreadable, but the guard suspected he was processing the news, so he remained quiet until, finally, Atlas asked in a murmur: “My son is dead?”

Jacob felt a twinge of pity of the king. “Yes,” he confirmed equally as softly.

Another moment of silence followed, just long enough to trick him into relaxing before Atlas suddenly picked up the plate of breakfast on his bedside table and threw it to the floor in a fit of rage. Jacob jumped as the dish shattered against the hardwood and watched in dismay as the king began struggling against his bedsheets in an attempt to get up.

“I want him [i]dead[/i]!” he screamed. “I’ll kill him myself! That bastard took my son away from me, so I’ll wring his neck with my own bare hands!”

“Your Majesty, please calm down,” Jacob held up his hands, unsure what to do as the king fumbled to stand up. He was worried that Atlas would have him sentenced to death if he tried to stop him, but the interrogators weren’t done with Regis yet. If Atlas had him killed now, they wouldn’t learn the information they needed to end the war. Hurriedly, he explained: “Nox-Fleuret is being questioned as we speak. I understand that you want to get vengeance for Prince Caspian, but we need him alive just a little while longer. He’s our only source to find out where His Highness’s body is as well as how to put an end to the rebellion. The information is too valuable to lose.”

Atlas, who had been clawing at the sheets that were still tangled around his foot, faltered at that. “His body?” he echoed in a whisper, staring down at the trapped limb as if he had suddenly been overcome by a trance. In the next moment, he dropped to his knees, and Jacob rushed to his side. Crouching down beside him, the guard placed a tentative hand on his back and watched in silent sorrow as the king of Aspiria broke down and wept on the floor beside his bed.