Aamon laid Byanka carefully on his bed before immediately summoning the Royal Physician. The physician arrived shortly afterward and examined her thoroughly.
After a few moments, the Royal Physician reassured Aamon that Byanka was in no immediate danger. She had merely exhausted herself, and with sufficient rest, she should recover within three days.
Aamon finally released the breath he had been holding.
"Thank goodness."
He reached for the glass of water that had been left for him and drank it in one sitting. His mind was still occupied with concern for Byanka, leaving him unaware of the strange presence lingering beneath the physician's disguise.
The Royal Physician bowed before taking his leave.
"She should be left to rest, Your Majesty."
Aamon nodded.
Once the door closed, silence settled over the chamber.
Aamon turned toward Byanka.
"Vyenka..."
A sudden, violent ache pierced his head.
He staggered backward and pressed a hand against his temple. His vision distorted, and fragments of memories flashed through his mind. The face of the Royal Physician appeared again, but this time, the disguise began to unravel.
Cierra.
The realization struck him with terrifying clarity.
The Royal Physician had been Cierra in disguise.
And the water he had just consumed had been tampered with.
Aamon's eyes widened.
"You witch!"
He clenched his fists as the effects of the potion began spreading throughout his body.
"Argh!"
The aphrodisiac was far more potent than he had anticipated. It clouded his thoughts, distorted his judgment, and steadily weakened his ability to resist. Aamon desperately fought against its influence, forcing himself to remember who he was and what he was doing.
He knew something was wrong.
He knew he had to stop.
Yet the potion continued to overwhelm him.
Eventually, his resistance gave way.
Aamon approached Byanka and kissed her.
The movement awakened her.
Her eyes opened in confusion before widening in alarm.
"Aamon! Please, stop! Please!"
She struggled against him, desperately trying to make him listen. Her voice trembled as she repeated her plea.
But Aamon was no longer fully in control of himself.
The potion had consumed his reason.
The struggle eventually faded into silence.
Two hours later, Aamon slowly opened his eyes.
His head felt heavy.
The room was quiet.
He turned toward the window and saw Byanka standing there, her back facing him. She stared through the glass without saying a word.
"Vyenka..."
Byanka remained silent for several seconds.
Then she finally spoke.
"I thought you promised that you would respect me."
Her voice was quiet, but there was a sharpness beneath it.
"I was the fragile and innocent Vyenka. You knew me that way. You promised that you would never take advantage of me."
Aamon stared at her.
Something about her voice had changed.
It was not merely anger.
There was recognition in it.
"I thought you would forget again," Aamon murmured.
Byanka gently laughed.
"I remember."
Aamon's expression changed.
"Every memory I lost. Every moment that was taken from me. I remember all of it."
A faint grin appeared on Aamon's face.
"Then you should have remembered the memories of Vyenka."
Byanka slowly turned around.
Her expression immediately hardened.
"You bastard!"
Her voice echoed through the chamber.
"You took my virginity! And you even pretended that you loved me!"
Aamon said nothing.
Byanka's hands trembled as she reached for the Amulet of Night around her neck. She attempted to remove it herself, but the artifact refused to yield.
She pulled at it again.
Nothing.
Then she remembered.
Only Aamon and Cierra could remove the Amulet of Night once it had been bound to its wearer. If she were to continue wearing it and claim it as her own, she would eventually become its official owner.
Before she could decide what to do next, Aamon suddenly teleported directly in front of her.
Byanka froze.
Aamon leaned closer and whispered,
"You will still be Vyenka, even if you are now the Ice Queen of Icelands."
His hand reached toward the amulet.
Before Byanka could react, Aamon removed it from her neck.
The transformation was instantaneous.
The illusion concealing Byanka's true appearance shattered.
Her real form emerged before him.
For two entire years, she had hidden that form from the world.
Now, the moment she revealed it again, an immense surge of magical energy erupted from her body.
The palace trembled.
The sudden disturbance spread throughout the surrounding area, alerting everyone nearby that something had happened.
Aamon stared at Byanka before summoning the Supreme Flaming Sword.
"You're finally free, and you've broken Cierra's spell."
He tightened his grip around the sword.
"So we should try to pretend that none of this happened."
Byanka stared at him.
For a brief moment, neither of them moved.
Then her familiar stubbornness returned.
"Die, you insolent Fire King!"
She attacked.
Aamon immediately raised the Supreme Flaming Sword.
Their powers collided, fire meeting ice as the chamber erupted with magical energy. Byanka continued her assault without hesitation, her fury driving every movement.
Aamon defended himself before finally finding an opening.
The Supreme Flaming Sword pierced her stomach.
Byanka froze.
Aamon's expression remained strangely calm.
He already knew.
This was not her real body.
It was merely an energy body.
Before Aamon could say anything, Byanka's form began dissolving into shimmering particles of frost and light.
She had already escaped.
Her true body had returned to her home, leaving only the fading remnants of her energy behind.
Aamon slowly lowered the Supreme Flaming Sword.
The room became silent once again.
He stared at the empty space where Byanka had stood.
There was no victory in his expression.
No satisfaction.
Only a dull, hollow feeling remained within him.
For the first time that night, Aamon was completely alone.