“In-Interrogation?” Cas spluttered in shock. More familiar with the military’s tactics of gathering information than he wanted to be, he cringed at the thought of Iris going through their torturous questioning. If he’d had the mobility, he would have leapt up from his bed at that moment and demanded that she be released at once. However, in his current state, the revelation merely made him dizzy, and the vital signs monitor beside him whirred with the spike in his heartrate.
He was taken aback by how quickly the soldiers had begun prodding at her about the rebellion. There was still light coming in through the window in his room, so even without looking for a clock, he knew he hadn’t been out for that long. He wished they would have waited until he’d woken up before they’d made any decisions, so he could have had a chance to speak on her behalf. “You didn’t need to send her to the interrogators,” he said, worry seeping into his voice. “I’m sure that if you’d just asked her, she would have been willing to help. The Scourge hurt her too. Also, she has amnesia, so she doesn’t remember everything…” He trailed off, his throat tightening as he imagined the interrogators questioning her about the rebels and believing she was lying when she told them she couldn’t remember much. The soldiers were ruthless when they believed a prisoner was hiding something from them.
“If that were true, she would have been helpful the first time she was questioned,” Atlas rebutted unsympathetically. “Matthew informed us that she’s already refused to talk once.”
Silently, Jacob swore as the king revealed that he had been listening to his conversation with the interrogator after all. Picking up on Caspian’s fondness for the girl, he’d wanted to keep quiet about the details of the questioning, including the fact that Iris was currently undergoing her second round with the soldiers, possibly with the use of Aproveset. What was done was done, and there was no changing it, so there was no reason to tell the prince about the gory details when it would just needlessly upset him. He would have preferred to break the news to him at a later time, when he hadn’t just woken up from a surgical operation.
Upon finding out that Iris had already been questioned more than once, Cas felt like the room was tilting. If he’d known the soldiers were going to subject her to so much right after she was sent to the penitentiary, he would have fought harder to keep them from taking her away from him. Now that he knew, he felt guilt-stricken that he’d let them arrest her so easily and hadn’t told them that she was on their side. He hoped she didn’t think he’d forgotten about her the instant he’d been offered medical treatment. His wounds had needed tending to, but he wasn’t so focused on them that he didn’t care what became of her in the capital. Far from it, he’d had an entire plan to protect her that had unraveled the instant the soldiers had confronted them outside the tower.
“She probably refused because she’s freaked out,” he reasoned, trying to come up with an excuse for Iris’s lack of cooperation that his father could accept. “Please, dad, this has to stop. I know what it looks like, but I swear she’s innocent. The other rebels manipulated her into working with them. She helped me get away from their leader and from the others after we were caught again. Doesn’t that speak more into who she is than the other stuff?”
Suddenly, a knock sounded on the door, and the doctor stepped back inside the room with a cup of water in hand. His eyes fixed immediately on the prince, and he clicked his tongue. “Your Highness, please try to stay calm. Your vitals are elevated, and you’re putting your body under unnecessary stress.” He stepped over to the bed and bent forward to press a button that lifted the top half of the mattress just enough that his patient would be able to drink the water without spilling it on himself.
Atlas’s eyes narrowed as he watched his son. He found it strange how fervently Caspian was trying to defend the girl who had led him into the trap in the first place. The prince had always been prone to blindly trusting other people, and this time was most likely the same. Unwilling to believe that a rebel had miraculously changed her mind about killing him, he was certain that she had another motive for “rescuing” him from the others. She had probably only done so to convince him to trust her. She may even be after the crown, he thought, gripping the metal arm of his chair in anger. It wasn’t unreasonable to assume that the girl had an agenda to win over his heir and try to put herself in line for the succession through a romantic involvement. He glanced at the doctor.
“Is there any way to have Caspian’s brain examined?” he asked, ignoring the way the prince gawked at him in response to the coldhearted question. “He’s clearly been affected by one of his captors, and I’d like to find out if she did anything to him while he was gone.”
I doubt what happened between them was as malicious as you think, Jacob thought with a subtle roll of his eyes, though he held his tongue. The more he listened to Caspian talk about the girl, the more convinced he felt that the two had gotten closer than Atlas was apparently willing to believe. The prince wasn’t brainwashed; he was just young and smitten.
The doctor cleared his throat awkwardly, “I, err, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with him cognitively, Your Majesty…”
“I don’t care what you ‘think.’ If you can have him examined, then do it to rule out the possibility,” Atlas asserted.
“What the hell?” Cas snapped, frustrated that his father was more inclined to believe there was something wrong with him rather than give Iris the benefit of the doubt. “I’m not brain damaged.”
“Sire, if I may,” the doctor fidgeted with his clipboard. “The kind of effect you’re suggesting wouldn’t show up on an MRI. If you think there’s a need for further examination, contacting a psychiatrist would be the best route to take.”
Feeling spurned in the exchanged, Cas let out an irritable scoff and turned his head away as he drank the water he’d been given. Not fifteen minutes after his father had acted like a real parent, he’d ruined the reunion by accusing him of being mentally incompetent. He supposed he should have known better than to think the king had changed. If he won’t listen to me, I’ll just have to help Iris, myself, he resolved.
“I’m fine,” he insisted, turning back to the doctor. “When can I leave? I’d prefer to recover in my own bed.” He also wanted to get away from all the people who were keeping a close eye on him, so he could pay a visit to the penitentiary in person.
“Unfortunately, we’ll need to hold you for at least twelve more hours, Your Highness,” the doctor smiled at him sympathetically. “You still need to have a couple more rounds of Accuparacin before you can be released, and they have to be spaced apart by six hour intervals. Plus, the longer you stay here, the longer we can keep you on the intravenous versions of Pansine and Amoxiran, which will hasten your overall recovery.”
Cas bit his lip. Twelve hours was too long. By the time he was able to leave, who knew what the soldiers would have done with Iris? He needed a more immediate solution. “Okay, fine,” he relented, glancing back at his father and Jacob. The guard was loyal to the king, but he wondered if he could convince him not to do anything extreme to Iris until he had a chance to fight for her release from prison.
“Schedule the psychiatrist,” Atlas ordered. “I’d like the appointment to happen before he comes back to the palace.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the doctor bowed and stepped out of the room to fulfill the request.
In the same moment, Jacob lifted a hand to his ear as he received word from Matthew about what had happened during the interrogation. “Fuck,” he hissed under his breath. It seemed like things were not going well at the penitentiary. Rising from his seat, he bowed curtly to Atlas. “I need to take care of this,” he informed the king with a gesture to his earpiece.
The monarch waved him off, and he stepped into the hallway, not wanting to have this conversation with Caspian in earshot. “Give her the goddamn antidote now,” he commanded the soldier sternly. “What the fuck happened? Is she epileptic? Keep an eye on her, and if she doesn’t get better fast, have someone bring her by air to the hospital for emergency treatment.”