The Tyrant's Pet

"Easy! Damn it!"

p Ismael looked back at the knight, who shoved him inside the cell. He clicked his tongue in irritation, brushing his shoulder while the knight closed the cell and locked it.

"Fucking…" he grunted, raising his chin to taunt the knight when he looked up at him in the eye. "What?"

The knight remained silent as he walked back, turning on his heel right after, and then walked away.

"I would've mangled his face if he spoke a word." Ismael spat to the side and rolled his eyes.

"I need to get out of here."

The third prince arched a brow when he heard Climaco's shaking voice. He turned on his heel and his eyes instantly fell on Aries's knight. Climaco was sitting on the narrow bench with his arms on his legs. His expression was solemn.

Climaco held his trembling hands together to calm himself down from the dread filling his heart. "I need to get out."

Ismael let out a quiet exhale and then shifted his attention to Modesto. The Minister of Justice was sitting on the opposite bench, posing just like Climaco. He looked back at the third prince for a second, before moving his eyes to Climaco.

"Calm down, Knight," he mumbled in an attempt to calm the knight, but the effect was proved to be ineffective.

"How can I?!" Climaco roared, hearing his voice echo in the dungeon they were held in. The light from the torch outside their cell danced on the side of his face, granting Modesto to see the flames in his eyes. "Her Royal Highness is the only person worthy to serve in this place, but instead of protecting her, she protected us — you, me, and you too!"

Climaco shot Ismael a defiant look, completely indifferent to the difference in their status. He used to bow his head to these people, but now, he didn't hesitate to look them in the eye. Hell. He would slay them at Aries's behest, but there was no point in wasting energy on them.

"I don't know why you two can be this calm when the woman who saved your lives is out there — suffering in his hands as we speak," he continued aggressively. "But don't expect me to calm down or shut my mouth."

Climaco ground his teeth while keeping his eyes in contact with Ismael and then held Modesto's gaze. The more he observed the two, the angrier he got. The fury that continuously piled in his chest drove him to stand up, punching the concrete wall, shouting a few clumsily chosen curses.

"Damn it!" his fist settled on the wall, unfazed by the blood covering the grazes on his knuckles. "I should've killed him when I had a chance and fled with her."

"Don't make it sound like you are her lover." Climaco looked over his shoulder, catching Ismael already leaning against the metal bars with his arms folded under his chest. "You'd be in deep trouble if someone gets jealous."

Ismael calmly narrowed his eyes, trying to see further into the darkness past the third cell where his eyes could reach. There were still royal knights locking up the knight templars in each of their cells. Surely, this dungeon would soon accommodate more 'guests' since Joaquin would imprison anyone who would oppose him.

There were a few names that came to Ismael's head that would surely join them soon. After all, there were clear oppositions in the royal court — the neutral ones were still uncertain since they could submit to the crown prince to save themselves.

Their arrest was just the beginning.

If what Ismael guess was correct, Joaquin had the imperial palace surrounded by his people. One thing would surely lead to another, and before they all knew it, Joaquin would claim the throne.

Ismael and Modesto, and every nobleman who wouldn't acknowledge him as the emperor, would inevitably stand on the gallows.

"We could've prevented this from happening if you told me about it last night." Modesto broke his silence with a quiet voice.

"We had a miscommunication. My bad." Ismael shrugged, watching the knights outside. The torches helped him to see what was going on. He waited until they shoved a knight templar inside a cell several cells from them and closed it with a bang. When the knights marched away, he continued.

"It's my fault for taking my eyes off of her, so I wasn't updated until Roman's arrest. I can use this time blaming myself for letting things escalate to this point, but I'd rather use my energy for later."

"That's right. There's no point in pointing fingers now," Modesto replied with a long-suffering sigh. "Either way, he will claim the throne just as expected and you'll still end up inside here — just you alone, though. But this is better, I guess. We had uncovered his crime and more and more people will come forth until everyone comes to know what sort of monster the crown prince was."

Modesto glanced at Ismael's figure and sighed quietly. The latter didn't budge, keeping his eyes outside to make sure no one was listening to their conversation. Ismael had grown mature. He might act like he hadn't, but ever since he emerged from that incident that killed Carlos, the third prince had been more meticulous in his orders. But what was even more amusing was that Ismael kept his values and, thus, he was now locked in this dungeon with them.

"You…" Modesto's brows rose and twisted his neck in Climaco's direction. "… what are you two blabbing right now?"

Ismael quirked a brow and carefully peeled his eyes away from the outside to Climaco. The latter darted his eyes between them, confusion obvious in his eyes.

"Why are you talking as if you had predicted this from happening?" he asked under his breath.

Ismael and Modesto looked at each other in silence before setting their attention back to Climaco. The third prince cocked his head to the side, batting his eyes ever so slowly, smiling subtly.

"We didn't," he answered. "The crown princess did."

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