Speaking of trouble...
I leaned back in my chair, the wood creaking under my weight.
That brother of hers—Prince Cedric—didn't strike me as the kind of man to accept failure with a polite nod. In fact, his meticulously crafted plan at the ball had been chillingly efficient in its design: stage a chaotic kidnapping, allow his sister to be abducted, play the concerned brother injured in the rescue attempt or during the frantic search, but ensure Princess Sara "accidentally" died in the process, all while neatly pinning the blame on his convenient political rivals - his other siblings. With dozens of high-society witnesses, it would have been the perfect, believable tragedy.
And the sick bastard would've likely gotten away with it too, his hands clean of any direct involvement.
But the Phantom Prison, and my unexpected intervention, had thrown a rather large wrench in his well-oiled machine, ruining his carefully orchestrated timing.
And I directly foiled the kidnapping itself.
