Several days passed. Daniel remained loyal to his daily routine—reading and sleeping—as if he sensed that the silence looming around him would soon shatter. War was at the gates.
As he stepped out of the library, he found Kara waiting for him at the end of the long corridor. She silently fell into step beside him, following like a shadow bound to its master. When they reached his chamber, he noticed Elena standing by the door, as though she'd only just arrived.
Her face was flushed, a delicate pinkness blooming across her cheeks—but the moment she spotted them, the color fled. Her expression tightened into something somber, almost mournful, as if she were walking toward her own execution.
She wore a revealing yellow dress that clung to her figure, stopping scandalously short at her thighs, accentuating her golden eyes. Her sculpted neck and ripening chest were bared by a low neckline, a dark line parting her breasts. Her long legs shimmered beneath the candlelight. But she had draped a cloak over her shoulders, clearly to avoid the scrutiny of the guards or maids. That dress—fit for dancers in the royal court—was not something she was ever known to wear.
Kara blinked, almost doubting her own vision. Was this a ghost of Elena? A hallucination born of wine? But no… I haven't drunk tonight.
Daniel's voice broke the silence, tinged with amused curiosity.
"What are you doing here at this late hour?"
Irritated, Elena replied sharply,
"I was waiting for you. I have something to say—privately."
Daniel glanced at Kara and nodded, issuing his quiet command.
"Don't let anyone disturb us. Is that clear?"
Kara bowed her head in acknowledgment. She understood she was not even to interfere herself, no matter what might happen behind that door.
Inside, Daniel gestured toward the table. Elena sat while he prepared two glasses of wine, placing the bottle gently between them.
"I don't have all night, you know," Daniel said, his tone tinged with annoyance. "As you're aware, sleep is sacred in this cursed cage of mine."
His sarcasm earned him a sour look of disgust. Elena's voice snapped back,
"You've done nothing but read and sleep for years. Don't pretend you've carried any burdens."
He laughed mockingly, lifting his glass.
"Oh, please, Elena. This useless dreamer of yours—he's the same one who killed the instructor you all used to idolize."
Her eyes flinched. Her fingers curled into fists on the table, nails digging into her palms. She knew she wouldn't win a battle of words with him—and now, the time for games had ended. She needed to uncover what Daniel was planning.
"Enough with your sarcasm," she said flatly. "Tell me—what are you planning to do? Father is sending you to war soon."
Daniel smiled, a smile far too dazzling, unsettling in its intensity. Elena found herself strangely flustered—his features striking, his presence overwhelming. But when she looked into his eyes, she saw no warmth. Only revenge.
His voice was calm, but piercing.
"Why do you want to know? Are the lives of your brothers and sisters that precious to you?"
The words hit her like a blade. He saw right through her—as if reading the pages of her mind aloud.
"I want to help," she said cautiously. "Maybe there's a path that lets us all survive. Peacefully."
Daniel's reply came swift and sharp.
"Why seek peace when war is already knocking? And let's not forget—it was your side that started this. Only your mother deserves to live."
Elena's breath caught. She stared at him.
"You… do you intend to destroy us? All of us? Are you going to use this chaos to turn against us?"
His eyes gleamed—an unholy flicker of bloodlust sparking within them. She saw it. There was no mistaking it. His silence screamed louder than words ever could.
"You're insane," she whispered, voice trembling. "Even if you become the last surviving heir, no one in the kingdom will ever acknowledge you."
Daniel leaned forward, his voice dropping to a near whisper, yet each word rang with terrifying clarity.
"Imagine this, dear Elena… the royal sons die in battle. The king follows soon after. Then comes the illegitimate child no one ever acknowledged—he returns from war, a victor who turned the tide when defeat was certain. He slays the enemy's greatest generals. Now tell me—who would they make king?"
Her heart pounded. The pieces were falling into place. Max's warning echoed in her head—sending her here had been the right decision. Any doubts she had now dissolved into certainty. He had to be stopped.
Even if that meant seducing him… or killing him at his weakest.
She downed her wine in a single gulp, her eyes now brimming with quiet menace.
"You're full of surprises," she said coldly. "Even this bottle of wine won't make me drunk enough to ignore what I just heard. Bring me something stronger."
Daniel chuckled, rising from his seat. "You're in luck. I do have something stronger—an import from Ashur. Rare. From the mountainside vineyards. Don't finish the whole thing though—I need a sip left for celebration."
As he turned away, Elena reached into the crease between her breasts and pulled out a tiny vial of glowing pink liquid. She emptied it into Daniel's glass swiftly, tucking the bottle away just as he returned with the prized wine.
He placed it on the table and poured her a glass. She snatched the bottle and drank straight from it, ignoring any sense of royal etiquette. Daniel merely smiled and raised his glass—her trap already in his hand.
As he drank, Elena's grin widened. Step one: complete. Now she waited. Just a few minutes.
"To live in peace," she said, watching him closely, "what must we do for you?"
Daniel didn't answer immediately. The question echoed in his mind—one he had never truly asked himself. Forgiveness? What could they possibly offer that would balance the scales of his pain?
At last, his voice came—quiet and cold.
"The price... is death."