[BL] Rules Of Desire: His Majesty's Secret-Chapter 57 - 55: The Weight of Justice

As Kaelith and Hale walked side by side down the corridor leading to the King’s chamber, their quiet laughter and soft conversation echoed lightly off the stone walls. Hale’s smile was easy, Kaelith’s gaze calm, until a sharp, familiar voice cut through the air.

"Good morning, Your Highness and welcome back," Nigel said, stepping into their path with a slight bow.

Kaelith paused. His expression neutralized, but he nodded politely. "Thank you, Nigel."

Nigel’s eyes slid toward Hale with thinly veiled mockery. "And you, Sir Hale... It’s still so early, and yet you’re already with the Prince. So punctual. It almost feels like you’re always by his side. One might even assume you both sleep together."

An awkward silence thickened the space between them.

Hale stiffened but said nothing. Kaelith’s jaw tightened. He met Nigel’s eyes, trying to keep his face unreadable, but the words from the voice in his vision echoed in his mind.

Instead, Kaelith said coolly, "Let’s not draw conclusions based on assumptions, Nigel. It’s unbecoming."

Nigel gave a shallow bow again, lips twitching. "Of course, Your Highness. Just an observation."

As Nigel stepped aside, Kaelith and Hale continued walking, but the lightness from earlier had dimmed. Kaelith kept his silence, but Hale noticed the change in his eyes, the worry that lingered long after the encounter.

Kaelith stood before the great doors of the King’s chamber, the weight of the vision pressing against his chest like iron. Hale had walked with him silently, offering quiet strength. Now he waited outside, pacing slowly along the corridor, giving Kaelith space and trust.

The guards bowed and pulled the doors open.

Inside, the King sat by the tall window, sunlight glinting off the polished armor displayed behind him. He turned as Kaelith entered, his face unreadable but alert. His father always saw too much, especially now.

"You’re awake early," the King said, folding his hands together. "I assume this isn’t about your duties today."

"No, Father," Kaelith replied quietly. "It’s about a vision. One I can’t ignore."

The King’s expression didn’t change, but the atmosphere shifted.

Kaelith stepped forward, his voice growing firm. "I dreamt of destruction. Of fire in the streets of Zarethrone. The banners were torn, the people screaming.

"I saw you, Father. Falling. Bleeding. I tried to reach you, but I couldn’t move. The dream suffocated me."

The king narrowed his eyes but said nothing. He waited.

Kaelith continued, his voice lower now. "And then I heard her. A voice. Old. Ancient. Not of this world. She told me the Whisperer had awakened. Not because of me. Not because of lust. But because of pain that Zarethrone caused long ago."

He looked down at his hands. "A girl wrongly judged. Cast out for stealing when she was innocent. She died after giving birth to a child. Her mother, Gileth, now lives here in the kingdom, with her grandson, Nigel."

The King blinked but still did not interrupt.

"The spirit said her grief, her refusal to forgive us, awakened the Whisperer. Her soul cries for justice. And that cry is what stirred this ancient force."

Kaelith lifted his eyes. "Zarethrone must ask for her forgiveness. We must acknowledge the wrong done. Publicly. Or the Whisperer won’t rest."

The King stood slowly. "And you trust this voice?"

"Yes, Father," Kaelith said softly, his voice steady despite the storm churning inside him. "I trust the voice... because the High Priestess gave me a talisman. She told me to place it beneath my pillow and that the truth would come to me in sleep. It did."

He looked up, a flicker of doubt in his eyes.

"But the reason I didn’t tell you when we returned from Khasidar... was fear. What if no vision came? What if I failed to receive an answer? I didn’t want to disappoint you. Or the kingdom."

King Aldric stood motionless, his eyes studying his son with unreadable calm. After a moment, he turned and walked slowly toward the tall arched window, where the dusk sun bled crimson over the towers of Zarethrone.

"The matter with the Whisperer has dragged on far too long," he said, more to himself than to Kaelith. "We’ve bled time, trust... and dignity."

There was silence. Then he turned.

"And if forgiveness is all it takes for peace to return to our people, then let us ask for it openly, without pride. Summon the court. Let every noble and councilman be present in the Grand Hall."

Kaelith bowed low. "Yes, Father."

As he turned to leave, King Aldric’s voice halted him.

"Kaelith."

He looked back. "Yes?"

"Make sure the woman and the grandson is summoned, too."

Kaelith nodded once and departed.

When the doors closed, the great chamber fell into silence. King Aldric slowly sank into his throne, the gold-trimmed edges cold beneath his fingers. But the chill that gripped him came not from the stone but from memory.

Images returned, unbidden, unwanted.

Judgments.

Faces. Screams. Bodies.

He had ruled Zarethrone with the belief that Desire revealed the soul’s truest intentions. So they had judged accordingly, not just with swords or chains, but through the raw, humiliating exposure of lust. Desire had become law.

And now, he wasn’t sure if he had gone too far.

Flash: The Boy Before the Blade

He had been no older than fifteen. Skinny, dirt-stained, eyes wide with terror.

"He was caught touching the ceremonial spear of Knight Jolen," one of the tribunals had declared.

"He touched it like one touches something they long for," said another.

Aldric had sat on his throne, distant. The judgment? To make him face his desire.

The boy had been bound, trembling, and made to kneel before the very knight he was accused of desiring. The act that followed was no justice. It was a shame. The boy had cried the entire time. No one had stopped it. Not even the King.

Flash: The Marked Woman

She had come from the eastern hills fierce, beautiful, and outspoken. She was accused of lusting after the court mage.

"For that which you desire but are forbidden to touch, we return it upon you."

She had been bound in the sacred courtyard, stripped of title and dignity, and made to feel the weight of her craving.

Her cries had echoed for days.

Flash: The Noble’s Daughter

She smiled too often at the guards. Her laughter was misread as an invitation. Two men came forward as witnesses, and so judgment was passed.

In the name of tradition, she was ordered to perform with them in the public arena. Her father stood in the front row. Her body obeyed, but her eyes never looked away from the throne, her silent gaze condemning Aldric more than words ever could.

Back in the present, the King’s hand clenched the carved armrest.

How many have I judged?

How many of them were truly guilty?

How many did I break for the sake of doctrine?

"I can not even remember all their faces," he murmured, grief like rust in his chest.

He looked toward the door Kaelith had gone through.

"Perhaps forgiveness truly is the only path left... but judgment in Zarethrone has always flowed through desire."

His voice lowered.

"And maybe... it’s time that changed."

He sat in silence, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. The golden sun poured through the tall windows of the chamber, casting shifting patterns across the polished floor.

"I will issue a decree," he said finally, his voice low but firm. "From this day forward, no one shall be judged by desire alone unless a full investigation has been carried out. Desire shall remain the lesser judgment, a path away from death... but I will no longer risk punishing the innocent simply to preserve tradition."

He sighed, leaning back with the weight of his years pressing into his bones. "I still choose desire over the blade. But I will not take a life unless justice demands it, not custom."

As Kaelith stepped out into the corridor, the air felt thinner somehow, charged. Hale was still there, leaning against the wall, arms folded, watching the door. The moment he saw Kaelith, he straightened and approached him.

"Well?" Hale asked, his tone careful but searching. "What did he say?"

Kaelith didn’t answer at first. He exhaled slowly, eyes unreadable. "Come. We’re heading to the Grand Hall."

Without another word, he turned and called to a palace aide nearby. "Sound the summoning bell. The people are to gather in the Hall, immediately."

The aide bowed and rushed off, and the great bronze bell atop the tower soon began to toll, echoing across Zarethrone.

As Kaelith walked toward the Hall, not far from its towering doors, a figure emerged from the marble colonnade. Elion.

"My dear prince," Elion purred, stepping closer, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Kaelith stopped in his tracks, subtle irritation flickering in his eyes. He held up a hand, keeping Elion at a distance. He said, masking the push with a faint smile that made the gesture seem friendly. "This isn’t the time."

Hale stood silently to the side, watching. He said nothing, but his gaze never left Kaelith’s face.

Elion’s playful tone shifted, becoming sharper. "Why is the summoning bell ringing? What’s happening?" He paused, narrowing his eyes. "Did you receive your answer?"

Kaelith gave a short nod. "I did."

Elion tilted his head, curious. "And?"

Kaelith told him about the vision, the spirit’s words, the forgotten woman named Gileth, the injustice that ignited something ancient. Elion listened in silence, then simply said, "So... it was real."

Before Kaelith could reply, Hale turned and walked away without a word.

Kaelith’s eyes followed him, guilt rippling through his chest.

It wasn’t jealousy. But Hale had been there, sleeping beside him the night the vision came. Hale had asked about it when Kaelith woke, but Kaelith said nothing. And now, here he was, explaining everything to Elion instead.

Kaelith didn’t try to stop him. He simply watched Hale’s back retreat down the corridor, silent, his heart pulled in two directions.

Come back again tomorrow....