Moryn was the lost blood of a royal house.
His identity was yet to be confirmed, but there was no denying it.
His strength surpassed that of every prince and duke's son in the Kingdom of Velante. Add to that his devastating beauty, more fitting for a god than a man, and it was no wonder half the noble maidens in the capital secretly obsessed over him.
And even though he was officially only her personal guard, Zyra knew exactly how many so-called "friends" she'd acquired who only wanted a closer path to Moryn. Many had tried to send him gifts or love letters through her.
Because of that, the original Zyra had made many "dear sisters."
Of course, the current Zyra wasn't fooled. She didn't believe for a second these women had pure intentions. Likely, they whispered insults behind her back, mocking her for being weak, talentless, and a burden to her own family.
Right on cue, just as she finished her tea, one of those "sisters" arrived.
"Seventh Sister! I came to see you\~"
A petite girl appeared at the entrance of the grand hall, dressed in a soft pink gown that shimmered like rosewater. Her face was smooth and pale, round and sweet like a porcelain doll, her smile soft and sticky as honey.
The classic sweet-faced little flower.
Zyra looked up and instantly recognized her: Lilianne Morwyn, fifth daughter of the Chancellor's line. Her elder half-sister, by name only.
Normally, a guest, especially family, would be offered a seat and tea.
But Zyra made no such gesture.
Why?
Because this so-called "white flower" was in truth a carnivorous vine.
The plan to drug Auren and "seal the deal" with forced intimacy? That had come from Lilianne herself. Even the tainted potion had been personally provided by her.
Lilianne wore a harmless smile, but inwardly, she was deeply anxious.
The gossip had already reached her ears by sunrise, Auren Rhiemond had spent the entire night at Veloria House. The whole capital was cackling over it.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go!
The plan had been simple: Zyra would sleep with Auren, then Lilianne would arrive with witnesses to expose them in scandal, destroying Zyra's reputation once and for all. But last night, before she could put that into motion, Auren had vanished from the manor.
"Seventh Sister," Lilianne leaned forward, eyes scanning Zyra's neck like a hawk, "you didn't use the potion?"
Zyra lifted her teacup slowly. "What potion?"
Lilianne blinked, her stomach twisting. "The, um, the passion draught..."
She didn't know why, but something about her younger sister today felt terrifying. There was a quiet pressure in the room, heavy and suffocating, one Lilianne had never felt before.
Zyra tapped her fingers on the table.
Soft, steady.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
But to Lilianne, it sounded like a war drum pounding on her chest. Her face drained of color. She couldn't even sit properly anymore.
"Seventh Sister… what do you mean by that?" she asked, voice trembling.
Her eyes welled up, on the verge of tears. "I, I only meant well! You've been so lovesick lately, and I couldn't bear to see you suffer. That's why I… I thought this might bring you and Lord Rhiemond together…"
Zyra said nothing.
Her expression was as cold as marble.
Humans are truly strange, she thought.
They could smile while feeding you poison. Harm you, and then say it was "for your own good."
"Seventh Sister, are you blaming me? Waaaah..."
Lilianne's crying was something to behold, delicate tears, fluttering lashes, lips trembling. She looked like a portrait of pure innocence in distress.
Zyra, however, only grew more confused.
Wait…
She's the one who plotted harm, and she's the one crying?
"I am blaming you," Zyra said flatly.
Lilianne: "…"
That wasn't how it was supposed to go.
In the past, no matter what she did, all it took was a bit of weeping and a few words of remorse, and the old Zyra would let her off.
But this Zyra simply sipped her tea. "Go confess to Auren Rhiemond."
She wasn't going to carry that burden.
"N-No!" Lilianne's face turned ghost-pale. "Seventh Sister, you can't do this to me!"
Auren wasn't just anyone.
He was the only son of Duke Rhiemond, the most powerful noble in Velante, ruling over nearly a quarter of the realm. Even the king tread carefully around him.
To offend Auren was to invite the fury of a sleeping giant.
"Waaaaah…"
Lilianne let out another wail and, conveniently, collapsed sideways, aiming to fall right into Moryn's arms.
Any proper guard would, of course, catch a fainting noble lady… right?
But instead of catching her, Moryn calmly sidestepped.
Lilianne hit the polished stone floor with a very ungraceful thud.
Zyra: "…"
Interesting.
This guard… had excellent instincts. She liked that.
Lilianne sat up, dazed and rubbing her bruised forehead. Her voice trembled with disbelief. "Why… why didn't you catch me?"
Moryn's face remained impassive. "Why should I?"
Lilianne bit her lip, her ears burning with humiliation. "I'm a noble lady, and you're a guard. Isn't it your duty?"
I like you… she wanted to add. You're powerful, and so beautiful… there's no one like you in all the kingdom.
But Moryn's eyes were colder than midwinter.
"You are the Chancellor's daughter," he replied icily, "but not my lady. I serve only one mistress."
His gaze shifted to Zyra. The frost in his voice melted just enough to show where his true loyalty lay.
Lilianne felt her face burn. As if she'd just been slapped in front of the whole court.
She had misjudged everything.
There was nowhere to hide.
Then, Zyra and Moryn's eyes met mid-air.
And for a moment, Zyra's heart skipped a beat.
Moryn's stare was bottomless. Deep, dark, unwavering. There was no warmth in it, but there was loyalty. Utter, unshakable loyalty.
Zyra thought back: yes.
Moryn had been rescued by the original Zyra's mother. He had been only seven, bleeding and broken, ribs shattered and stabbed in the stomach.