As he approached the kitchen, Cas could smell the mouthwatering aroma of omelets being prepared by the royal chefs. After a long night with only a few hours of sleep to restore his spent energy, a hot breakfast and mug of coffee was just what he needed. He stretched languidly and hopped up on one of the barstools to wait while the cooks worked on his food. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he scrolled through the media, curious to see what Miles had been talking about when he had said that the terrorist attack was already all over the news.

It had only been about fifteen hours since the rebels had first been arrested, so he was surprised that word had leaked to the reporters already. However, as he read the articles that had come out so far, he saw that there had been a whistleblower who had mentioned something about the attack to the press. The detail made him wince. From what he read, it seemed like the only information that had come out was that there had been rebels in the mansion and that the increased security throughout the capital was somehow related to them. The security team knew much more than that, so he felt certain that it had been a staff member who had wagged their tongue. His father was probably going to have the servants thoroughly investigated to find out who had spread the word before they could come up with a sculpted story to satiate the reporters without losing control of the situation.

“How the [i]hell[/i] are the rebels still loose in the city?”

The sudden, booming voice of his father made Cas flinch and turn around in his seat. The king had been ill the day before, but it sounded like his strength had returned today. Atlas marched into the kitchen—as well as he could while leaning on his cane—with a flustered security guard hurrying along at his side. “The soldiers are turning over every stone to find them,” the guard assured his ruler quickly. “There are only two left who are still unaccounted for, and I expect that we will have them both back in custody by the end of the day.”

“Not good enough,” Atlas barked. “I want the bastards behind bars or in the crematory by noon. Give me the name of the man in charge of the hunt. If he doesn’t deliver, I will have him removed from his office.”

“Yes sir,” the guard bowed and jogged off to fulfill the request.

The king watched him go and then turned to his son with furrowed brows, “We’ll be standing before the nation today to address this issue, Caspian, and that is what you chose to wear?”

The prince stared at his father incredulously. He had spent almost ten straight hours handling the situation with the terrorists last night, sacrificing food and sleep to get things under control, and all he got in return was a critique of his clothes. The blatant disregard for his efforts stung, and he averted his gaze to hide his hurt from the king’s eyes. [color=#b97703]“I just woke up,”[/color] he muttered, busying himself by cutting into his omelet with a fork and knife. [color=#b97703]“I’ll change into something else before we leave.”[/color]

“Good,” Atlas grumbled, limping further into the room. “That girl you brought back, is she still here? I’m going to have her sent in for questioning.”

[color=#b97703]“What? Why?”[/color] Cas looked up from his plate with widened eyes.

“Because I’m sure she’s involved with the Scourge,” the king said firmly. “Those fools have never gotten inside the palace until she showed up. The timing is too convenient to ignore.”

[color=#b97703]“She had nothing to do with it,”[/color] Cas asserted. [color=#b97703]“I’ve been with her almost constantly since the day I found her, so she couldn’t have been conspiring with anyone. There wasn’t time. [i]And[/i] Dr. Emett diagnosed her with amnesia, so she doesn’t have the capacity to plot against us.”[/color]

“Then she’ll have nothing to hide,” Atlas said simply, turning to walk down the hall that led to Iris’s room.

The prince muttered a curse under his breath and slid down from his barstool to chase after him, hoping to change his father’s mind before he hassled the amnesiac with misplaced questions.