As soon as Daniel entered his room, he slowly pulled the door shut behind him, as though he were closing a chapter from a tale stained with violence and fatigue. He stepped toward the bed with heavy footsteps, as if the ground were absorbing his energy, and carelessly tossed his sweat-soaked clothes onto the floor. His body remained nearly bare, covered only by black underwear, which seemed like a fragile barrier between him and a world now more exposed than his body.
He suddenly turned—and there was Kara, standing by the closed door, her gaze overflowing with unspoken words. Her tearful eyes, brimming with stillness, concealed behind them a thousand questions. Yet, in his usual, deeply rooted indifference, he did not offer her even a glance of sympathy. He simply walked to the bathroom in silence, as though her presence were nothing more than a passing specter. Kara sealed her lips then, swallowing with bitterness what she had been about to say.
Thirty slow minutes crawled by before Daniel emerged from behind the curtain of dense steam. His black hair fell luxuriously damp over his forehead, and his dark violet eyes seemed like frozen secrets. He wrapped a white towel around his waist, which concealed no more than it revealed, while Kara, as usual, had carefully prepared his formal suit and stood with another towel in hand, awaiting her daily ritual of drying his hair.
He approached with calm steps and sat on the edge of the bed. Kara understood what he wanted without him saying a word. She walked toward him as if treading on landmines and began drying his hair with a gentleness that mirrored the fear of a sinner before divine wrath. A deep silence settled between them, as if time itself had chosen to pause, granting them a rare moment of stillness before the storm would erupt.
At last, Daniel spoke, in a mellow voice that masked a blend of boredom and dominance:
"Ask what's weighing on your chest. You know I'll be gone for a week."
Kara hesitated, like a traveler before a locked door, then spoke in a low, tense voice:
"Why did you let me attend the training this morning?"
A cold smile curved on his lips, as if it were a mask concealing dark thoughts dancing behind his eyes.
"Isn't it obvious? I wanted to trap those fools… Marcus and Daris in particular."
Kara gasped in silence. She had expected something more human—perhaps a desire to protect her, or a wish to stay out of sight—not that her body had been used as part of a deadly game.
She asked again, her mind racing after answers:
"Did you plan all this since last night? Did you expect their involvement?"
He responded with an even wider smile:
"Since the moment I left the library. I knew Daris, in his foolishness, wouldn't sit idly by—and Marcus would follow him."
Her lips parted in fresh astonishment, not just at the swiftness of the plan, but at how skillfully he had brought down his rivals in mere hours. She whispered, as though afraid to hear herself:
"Were you sure of victory? Why didn't you let me speak? And how did you win, when you only trained today? Were you training in secret?"
He laughed, but the laughter didn't reach his eyes:
"That's not a question—it's an attempt to understand what you're not meant to understand. Who is Daris? A dead man. And the dead do not speak. As for my strength… there's an old saying: the more ignorant you are, the safer you'll be. For your own life, don't ask me that again—otherwise… I may have to kill you with my own hands."
Kara gasped, a sudden chill washing over her as if ice had crept into her spine. Yes, he smiled—but she didn't feel any warmth in that smile. His eyes were a stage for lethal frost.
She tried to change the subject, casting one last question, anxiety choking her pulse:
"Will you be alright… in the Kalyres Cell?"
He answered in a trembling voice, veiling an odd fatigue:
"Who knows? Everything has a reason."
Kara sighed, her eyes pleading to a merciless fate:
"I hope you return safely… my lord."
All across the palace, the news struck like a slap that tore the curtain of stillness. Gasps of astonishment swept through the wings of power, the faces of ministers and advisors shifted. They had awakened a nightmare that had long slumbered beneath the ashes of time—and its timing could not have been worse.
The news reached the king, the queen, and even the court's entourage. Movements on the borders with the Kingdom of Ashur signaled an approaching storm. According to merchants and soldiers, a change loomed on the horizon… a change that could not be ignored.
Due to geography and historical enmity, Aruk would be the first to receive the blow if war broke out. But the people still believed in their king—descended from the line of immortality, whose members were not easily defeated.
In the royal hall, one advisor looked at the king in trepidation:
"Your Majesty, what is the course?"
The king did not reply at once. He cast the advisor a deep look, filled with the cunning of foxes that spoke more than a thousand words. Everyone knew royal family matters were not to be discussed—they were to be executed.
He finally answered in a firm voice:
"We uphold Marcus's decision: send him to the Kalyres Cell for a week. If he returns alive, we send him to the front lines. If Ashur crosses our borders—let him be the first to fight."
Shock reigned—even Marcus's own eyes widened, realizing that what his heart had whispered for years was true: Daniel… was not the king's son.
In her private suite, Queen Lina sat listening to her maid recounting the day's events with a trembling voice. For a moment, Lina felt relief—Daniel had escaped death. But a heavy emotion quickly took its place: fear.
Yes, fear of what was coming—of potential vengeance, of an internal threat. Daniel could endanger her children… perhaps even threaten the throne itself.
She had to act.
She said, averting her gaze:
"Tell my children to avoid Daniel by all means. Do not provoke him. Do not argue with him—even if he deliberately provokes them. This is an order not open to discussion. Do you understand?"
The maid bowed and said:
"As you command, my lady."
And after her departure, Lina sank into feverish thought. She knew that bringing Daniel together with her children was like combining fire with gunpowder. Time was running short, and she had to draw the plan… now.
She muttered in frustration,
"Oh… what a headache this fate is."
In one of the royal chambers, the three siblings—Max, Elena, and Alex—were facing the explosion.
Max screamed madly, smashing everything his hands could reach:
"That bastard! What happened is unthinkable!"
Elena tried to calm him:
"Calm down, Max! Anger is pointless—we have to think… wisely, just as our parents taught us."
Alex nodded quietly in agreement. Finally, Max ceased his destruction and sat down amid the shattered glass, his breath heaving like someone who had just wrestled a beast.
He said in broken words:
"Iam… calm now. Do you have a plan?"
Elena looked at him seriously and said:
"Either we make him lose his virginity… or we attack him in a moment of weakness—when he wakes."
Max froze for a moment. The second option sounded like a mature plan. The first… had never occurred to him.
Who would carry it out? And who would dare?
They had one week… to decide.