Prince Shelldon Maritime's Arc

Chapter 4 of 5

Shelldon's boots struck stone as the guards formed up behind him. He pointed past the gate toward the hill where Frocklin lived. "Arrest her," he said. The captain did not move. He held out an old scroll, the list of laws, and tapped one line. No noble could be taken without an eyewitness or a thing held in the hand as proof. Shelldon's shell went hot. He pulled an empty jar from his satchel, the one he had meant to fill with petals for Rosalind. He turned it in the light. Clear glass. Nothing inside. That was what he had. Nothing he could pour out before the captain and call truth. Jeffery stepped close. "I saw it," he whispered. The captain shook his head. One prince's friend was not enough against a woman of rank. From his belt the captain drew a second scroll, sealed in red — the queen's old decree binding Shelldon to honor noble blood until evidence stood plain. Shelldon walked alone to the hill. He did not knock. Through Frocklin's window he saw a dark mirror on the wall, its surface webbed with cracks. He stepped inside. Frocklin turned, calm. "You came without your guards," she said. "That tells me everything." He set the empty jar on her table. "Fill it," he said. "The tea. The drops. Whatever you used on Lauren." Frocklin almost smiled. "I owe you nothing." She lifted a small vial from her shelf and tipped a single bead of liquid into his jar. "A gift. Prove what you like." Then she stepped back. "But know this. I poured it myself. Freely. No court will call that a crime." Shelldon walked out with the jar sealed in his fist. The liquid was real. The witness was him. But she was right — she had given it, not been caught with it. He had his proof and no case. The guards would still not move. He had traded his silence for a single drop, and now Frocklin knew he would come again.