The garden was quiet, save for the soft rustle of leaves in the wind. King Isis stood before the white roses, her favorite. He had loved her, deeply, once. Perhaps still did, in the corners of his heart he refused to look into. His gaze lingered on the empty grave, marked only by the clothes they had buried in her place. No body, no closure. Just memories and a sister turned traitor. Far beyond the hedges, hidden by magic and bitterness, Queen Dalia watched with clenched fist, her nails sank into her palm until blood kissed her skin. She didn't flinch. She only glared at him, a thousand thoughts burning behind her eyes.
His precious little kingdom would fall one day!
With that she vanished as silently as she came.
Agnes approached quietly, his footsteps careful on the gravel path. "I thought I told you I didn't want to be disturbed," he said, voice low but not cold.
"Your Majesty…" he bowed her head. "The kingdom needs you. The ball. Your people."
A long breath slipped from Isis lips as he straightened his back, the weight of duty pressing back onto his shoulders. He gave a slight nod. That was why he kept Agnes close, he didn't question, he simply delivered.
"Lord Cassian is here to see you," he added. "He refuses to leave until you speak with him."
Isis gave a soft chuckle, though there was no amusement in it. Of course, Cassian. He knew exactly why that snake was here.
With a silent nod, Agnes turned and led the king through the stone corridors. The air was cool, heavy with the scent of parchment and distant firewood. They reached the study, and as the doors opened, Isis found Lord Cassian lounging—no, testing, the comfort of his chair as if the room already belonged to him.
"Fits you," Isis muttered dryly, arching a brow.
Cassian stood, giving a shallow bow. "Your Majesty."
Isis offered only a curt nod. Agnes, ever efficient, motioned for a nearby maid. "Blood tea. For both," he ordered, his tone clipped.
As the maid disappeared, Cassian wasted no time. "I assume you know why I've come."
Isis folded his arms. "The arranged marriage."
"You expect me to marry her? Hugh's daughter?" Cassian's voice was laced with both disbelief and disdain.
"It isn't sentiment, Cassian," Isis said coolly, walking to the window. "It's strategy. The girl has ancestral lands, fertile, politically placed. The alliance would tip favor to your house. It benefits you."
Cassian's scowl shifted slowly into a grin. "And I would have bested Lord Hugh at his own game."
"Precisely."
Cassian chuckled darkly. "Then I accept. Let's see how the old wolf howls when I claim his precious girl."
Cassian leaned back in the chair again, this time more at ease, swirling the blood tea in his cup once it arrived. His eyes flicked toward Isis with a hint of amusement.
"You know," he began casually, "even you might consider finding someone to share the weight with. A queen, perhaps. Even tyrants need sleep."
Isis didn't glance at him. "I don't need anyone," he said flatly. "I rule solo."
Cassian smirked, lips curling with mischief. "Of course. The lone wolf of Hivites. How noble."
Isis turned, gaze cold and sharp. "Nobility has nothing to do with it."
Cassian only chuckled, unbothered. "Keep telling yourself that, your Majesty. Even the strongest thrones crack when there's no one to lean on."
Isis said nothing, but the flicker in his eyes didn't go unnoticed.
Cassian lounged in the heavy chair of Isis's study, fingers tapping the armrest with a rare edge of concern. His eyes flicked toward the king, who stood by the tall window, staring out but seeing nothing.
"Your Majesty," Cassian began cautiously, breaking the silence, "the water from Shem stopped coming days ago. No word from their king. It's bad, worse than I feared."
Isis didn't turn around. His voice was low, tight with tension. "How long till our reserves run dry?"
"Not long," Cassian admitted, voice laced with unease. "Shem's silence could mean they're breaking the alliance. Winter approaches, and without water, this kingdom is on the edge of collapse."
Isis clenched his fists, the weight of a crumbling kingdom pressing down on him. "Is it money?"
Cassian sighed, "Perhaps. But there's no message, no demand. Just... silence."
"Then we send riders," Isis said slowly, his jaw tightening. "Find out why Shem cuts us off."
He turned sharply to face Cassian, eyes burning. "But no one else can know. The ball must go on. The people mustn't see their king falter."
Cassian nodded, sensing the storm behind Isis's calm exterior. "You're carrying the whole kingdom on your shoulders."
Isis's gaze dropped. "And it's falling… by my hands."
***
The wheels of the carriage creaked to a halt in Lords Typhon manor. Baron Albert stepped down, his boots clicking on the polished stone. Behind him, two guards carefully lowered a single ornate chest, carved wood, iron-clasped, and heavy with Creedom's overdue gold,, along with bundles of rich garments, silks and velvets meant to impress.
Eugene stood by the steps, posture straight, hands clasped behind his back. He regarded Albert with a neutral gaze, not hostile, not warm, but notably… without a bow.
Albert's eyes flickered at the breach in etiquette. In Creedom, a man of his title was rarely left unacknowledged. But he smiled, smooth and practiced.
"Lord Typhon is expecting me, I assume?"
Eugene gave a slight tilt of the head. "He awaits in the great hall. Follow me."
Albert bit down his irritation. He glanced back at his guards. "Careful with that," he muttered, motioning toward the chest. Eugene led Albert silently through the stone corridors to the great hall. Inside, Lord Typhon sat behind a massive desk, engrossed in a weathered parchment. He didn't look up, merely giving a curt nod to Eugene.
"Milord," Eugene announced.
Albert bowed deeply. "I am Baron Albert Espusio."
Typhon's eyes flicked up sharply. The name lingered somewhere in his memory. Where have I heard that before?
"And what do I owe this visit?" Typhon's tone was icy, calculating.
Albert kept his head low. "Milord, I come on behalf of my king to pay Creedom's overdue debt. Milord was generous enough to grant us until the full moon, which I believe is today."
Typhon's lips curled into a cold smile as Albert shuddered, he had heard rumors and wanted nothing to cross this lord, especially with his own ambitions in the thriving Hivites market.
"Ah, Creedom," Typhon sneered. "You have no idea how much I have lost because of your king. Inform your king that the feudal dues have doubled."
Albert's eyes widened. Creedom was barely surviving, and here was this merciless lord demanding more.
"Do you have something to say?" Typhon's voice cut sharper.
"It's just that... Milord, Creedom can't pay."
"Can't pay, or won't pay? Choose your words carefully," Typhon warned, leaning forward.
Albert bowed again, voice low but steady. "We dare not show ingratitude. When Creedom needed aid, Hivites did not hesitate. I shall inform my king."
Typhon paused, eyeing Albert with suspicion. "Pray tell, how did you earn this money in so short a time?"
Typhon was no fool, he had given Creedom till the next full moon for a reason; with winter nearing, raising such funds was near impossible. He caught the spike in Albert's heartbeat and raised a brow, suspicion stirring.
Sweat dotted his forehead on Albert forehead.
"I'm just an emissary. The kingdom's affairs are beyond me."
"A Baron who is 'just an emissary', do you think I'm a fool?"
Albert stammered, fear tightening his chest. He could tell this man was no friend.
"My king and I share a bond stronger than duty. He was once my relative, my ex-wife's father."
He needed something to distract the man, as Lord Typhon didn't believe a word that spilled from his mouth, and the longer they stood there, the more his irritation brewed.
He seemed to lose interest in the human standing before him. He shifted his gaze back to the parchment, ready to dismiss him with a flick of his hand—until Albert muttered lowly under his breath:
"The wanton woman cheated on me…"
The words hung in the air like poison. Typhon's eyes narrowed sharply, a dark glint flashing through them. So, a king favouring his relative…
"Tell your king I expect the dues early," Typhon said coolly, waving a hand. The dismissal was clear.
Albert bowed, catching the cue and retreating quickly, his steps uneven with tension.
As the great doors shut behind him, Eugene stepped forward to Typhon's side, silent, but present. He only ever did that when he had something to say.
"What?" Typhon asked, voice laced with mild irritation.
"Milord… doesn't the name Espusio sound familiar to you?"
Typhon's jaw flexed.
"I assume," Eugene continued cautiously, "it belongs to the human… Sapphire's previous husband."
Typhon said nothing. But the way his fingers curled into a fist on the edge of the table said enough.