The royal palace of Valdegar was grand, yet in this moment, it felt like a place of death. Heavy black drapes hung from the columns, windows were shrouded in dark curtains, and even the light seemed dimmed. At the very center of the throne room lay the coffin of King Kairion, draped in a royal mantle.
Despite the mourning, the atmosphere here was not one of sorrow, but rather of anticipation. Envoys from various races and kingdoms had already gathered in the reception hall.
The dwarves and gnomes, clad in heavy silk robes and holding intricately carved golden staffs, watched every opportunity for gain with sharp eyes. Trade was their world, and the new king was a perfect opportunity for the next step in their plans.
The elves, with eyes glinting with curiosity and suspicion, could not fail to notice the sharp shift in power that promised new possibilities and dangers.
The demons, cold and unyielding, never lost their vigilance. For them, politics was simply a game of clever intrigues and calculations. Who sat on the throne mattered little to them, for the only thing that mattered was their own profit.
The humans who had arrived from neighboring kingdoms were diverse, each with their unique perspective on the situation, but all had their own goals regarding the new ruler, who, without a doubt, could open new opportunities for their own interests.
Valdegar Lokris sat on the throne, calmly observing the arrival of the delegations.
He knew that the presence of these representatives would force Lianisa to come—she could not afford to show disrespect in front of the other monarchs.
But that wouldn't be enough. She could show up, offer her condolences, and leave before he even had a chance to hint at his intentions.
So, he had already devised a plan to make her stay.
— "What if she refuses to attend the ceremony?" asked one of his advisors, an elderly man with a piercing gaze.
Valdegar only smiled.
— "She will come. Otherwise, it will be seen as an open act of hostility."
He understood Lianisa. She was too intelligent to give him a reason to strike.
— "And if she does come, then what?"
Valdegar lightly tapped his fingers on the armrest of the throne.
— "She will stand before everyone... as a solitary woman, with no ally, no army by her side. I will slowly tighten her throat with diplomacy, force her to abandon her pride for the sake of her people's safety. And then..."
His eyes gleamed.
— "She will wear a wedding dress."
The light marble walls reflected the sunlight streaming through the tall windows. The atmosphere in the queen's chambers was tense, but she allowed herself no weakness. She stood before the mirror, staring at her reflection, as though preparing for war.
She knew it was a trap. But she had to go.
Refusing would mean humiliation before all the other rulers. It would give Valdegar an argument that she did not respect legitimate traditions. She couldn't allow that.
— "But it's dangerous," Rikard said, standing by the door.
— "Of course it's dangerous," Lianisa adjusted the glove on her hand. "But if I don't go, I'm lost."
She held the trump card.
She would not only expose Valdegar as power-hungry—but she would turn him into a monster in the eyes of others.
If she played it right, she would not only weaken his position but also make his allies question whether it was worth continuing to support him.
— "And if he decides to act with force?" Rikard asked quietly.
Lianisa smiled.
— "In front of all these representatives from different races? In front of kings and envoys? No, he won't risk it. Because as soon as he makes the first move to force me—he will lose his legitimacy. And that, he fears more than death."
The next day
The main square of Valdegar's capital, in front of the royal palace.
Evening. The sky spread in crimson waves of sunset. The streets leading to the square were packed with people—no one wanted to miss the moment when the most desired woman of all the kingdoms would enter the city. This was not just the arrival of a queen—it was a theater, a masterfully played act. And the primary spectator of this performance was Valdegar Lokris.
Valdegar stood on the palace steps, watching the main road.
His face was unreadable, but his body betrayed his anticipation.
Tightened fingers on the railing.
A barely noticeable, almost animal-like tension in his shoulders.
His gaze—hungry, almost predatory.
"And here she comes."
Her carriage stopped at the foot of the stairs.
Thousands of eyes were fixed on the doors.
And then, they opened...
And she stepped out.
First, a delicate foot appeared in a light, almost weightless shoe.
The exposed line of her thigh barely showed from beneath her dress before she took a full step forward, emerging onto the stone pavement.
Each movement—a wave of allure, flowing through her body, making the fabric fall gracefully to complement her grandeur.
A ruby-colored gown with a black veil enveloped her, accentuating her perfect curves.
The deep neckline revealed her high, full breasts.
Her narrow waist, making one long to place a hand upon it.
Her hips swayed in a smooth rhythm with each step.
And she began to climb the stairs.
The first step.
Her breasts trembled slightly beneath the fabric, sensually quivering in time with her movement.
The second step.
The line of her back stretched, displaying perfect posture.
The third step.
Her hips softly curved to the side, allowing the silk to cling to her in a way that made each fold seem to dance with her body.
The fourth step.
Valdegar caught himself—he could no longer hear anything around him.
No more envoys, no more guards, no more capital, no more war...
There was only her.
Valdegar gritted his teeth.
The fifth step.
He craved her.
He wanted to feel her body tremble under his hands.
He wanted to possess not just her, but her pride as well.
The sixth step—she was before him.
She stopped.
Her scent—warm, sensual, like evening jasmine, mixed with the faint sweetness of honey.
She allowed his desire to touch her, but only with his eyes.
She smiled.
— "Your Majesty."
Oh, the way she said it...
Soft, yet commanding.
Confident, yet with a hint of temptation.
She spoke as if he were her kingdom. As if she were allowing him to breathe.
Valdegar felt his heart skip a beat.
For the first time in all this time, he realized that he was the victim.
— "Your Majesty..."
His voice was hoarse, and he hated it.
She noticed.
She saw how his gaze greedily traced her body, how his fingers tightened on the glass, how his composure began to crumble.
And then she dealt him the final blow.
She leaned in just a little closer, allowing her breasts to barely shift from the neckline of her gown, creating the illusion of an unattainable closeness.
— "I hope this evening will be fruitful for us."
She said it in such a way that everyone understood. "She's talking about politics."
But he understood what she wanted him to understand.
And he swallowed the hook.
She straightened up.
— "Will you take me inside, my King?"
Valdegar almost ground his teeth.
She was playing him.
She was his greatest desire.
And his greatest threat.
He extended his hand to her.
She had won this round. But the game was just beginning...
The Great Throne Room of Valdegar's Palace— a place that hadn't yet changed since the death of the previous king.
The evening banquet began. The air was filled with a blend of spicy dishes, refined wines, and the most important ingredient of the night—the tension between the two most dangerous people in the room. This was the night when every movement, every gesture, every breath would matter. And tonight, it was not the king who played the leading role, but the queen, who had entered the palace to break his game.
The throne room blazed with the flames of a thousand candles, casting golden reflections onto the marble walls. Huge tables were set with silk tablecloths, filled with wine, exotic dishes, and fruits that barely clung to silver platters.
But all eyes were on her.
The woman who had just entered the hall, turning it into her stage.
Lianisa didn't just enter—she glided through the air like the graceful shadow of a goddess.
Her dress was a work of art.
The delicate fabric shimmered in the light of the flames, shifting between shades of dark wine and the glow of the night.
The deep slit along her leg allowed one to glimpse the perfect curves of her thigh with every step.
The daring, yet flawless, neckline accentuated her breasts, making them softly quiver with each step, creating the illusion of an inaccessible closeness.
Her collarbones were like polished pearls, her wrists slender and graceful, and every movement was planned to perfection.
This wasn't just a woman.
This was a queen before whom all were meant to fall.
Including Valdegar.
Valdegar couldn't look away.
He watched her as men do when they know that this woman will never belong to them. And that only made his desire burn stronger.
As she approached, he caught himself instinctively gripping his wine glass. His self-control was under threat.
She was everything he wanted—and everything he should never want.
When Lianisa stopped by the table, he stood up, not even realizing that it had happened instinctively. All the other guests remained seated—but he rose for her. She noticed.
She knew how to play him.
And she allowed herself the pleasure of leaning in slightly, closer to him, so that he could feel the warmth of her body.
— "Your Majesty," she whispered softly, but with such intensity that each sound seemed to pierce beneath his skin.
Her breath brushed against his ear, her scent filled the space between them, and her voice made him, for the first time that evening, want to forget the rules.
She lifted her gaze—and then delivered the final blow.
She allowed herself a small, fleeting smile.
It wasn't just a smile.
It was the smile of a woman who knew that the man before her wanted her more than he wanted his own kingdom.
And she would make him understand that she would never belong to him.
Valdegar realized that everyone was looking at him.
His hands clenched into fists, his breathing grew deeper, and his mind screamed that he could not allow this. That it was a trap.
But his body...
His body wanted only one thing.
She knew that her power was not in armies.
Not in swords.
Her power was in the fact that Valdegar, the ruler of the kingdom, wanted nothing more than her.
And desire—it was the weakest spot even for the most powerful of men.
And she would use it.
She would make him take a step that would become his greatest mistake.
"Right now, he still controls himself."
"But what will happen next...?"
The tension hung in the air, like the electric charge before a storm. The wine flowed, the music played, but everyone in the hall knew—this was not just an evening of mourning. This was the moment when the fate of the kingdom would be decided. And the game that had been played up until now was about to move into open action.