Instead of entering the city gates with his men where clan warriors were welcomed with cheers, children raced barefoot through cobbled streets, and women scrubbed stone porches under the orange hue of dusk, Lord Typhon veered off the main path.
Sapphire frowned, confused.
"Milord—"
"Silence." His voice was low, but firm.
She swallowed her words. The weight of his silence pressed against her more than his presence behind her. She could feel his breath near her neck, warm and steady, but beneath it was something… restrained.
He didn't speak again.
They rode in silence until the city gave way to a distant path .The road curved and opened into a secluded plateau — and there it stood: the Palace
It was carved into the side of the cliff, half-grown from mountain stone, half-built by impossible craftsmanship. Waterfalls cascaded down its sides Golden statues lined the marble walkways of warriors, kings, and god-beasts their expressions fierce, their armor inlaid with gemstones that caught the light like fire. Gardens sprawled around the palace like a glowing night blossoms, various trees, and silver koi fish swimming in tranquil pools.
The scent of jasmine filled the air, blending with the soft hum of water and the faint music from deep within the halls. Every arch, every window was adorned in gold and sapphire glass, catching every flicker of light and bending it into something inhumane.
The stable boy rushed out from the shadows, boots thudding against stone as he reached for the reins.
Typhon swung down from the stallion with practiced ease, his cloak sweeping behind him like a trailing shadow. He didn't look back — not once as Sapphire awkwardly slid down by herself, nearly stumbling, her legs sore from the rough ride and the bruises she was sure would love a scar
"Milord," the stable boy bowed low, keeping his eyes to the ground.
Typhon gave him a curt nod — nothing more before striding forward, his boots echoing against the polished stone path.
Without a word, he climbed the grand trail of stairs, carved smooth and curved like flowing water, each step flanked by lanterns that flickered gold against the marble.
His pace was steady, powerful , the kind of walk that announced authority without needing to speak.
The king had summoned him.
And if the fella thought he could manipulate him with throne-room formalities, he was sorely mistaken.
Typhon's jaw clenched slightly.
He would go, yes.
But not kneel , only to listen.
Let the bastard speak.
Then he would decide what was worth hearing… and what deserved silence.
Inside the palace, the air was thick with the scent of incense ,rich, spicy, and calming — mingled with the delicate fragrance of freshly picked Freesia that adorned the stone walls . Sapphire, despite herself, was impressed. The Hivitie knew how to wield opulence. Everything from the polished marble floors to the embroidered tapestries whispered of wealth, heritage, and taste.
Her eyes trailed the corridor, noting intricate artifacts , carved figures of women in bold, indecent postures, frozen in moments that sparked both curiosity and discomfort.
They approached a heavy set of double doors, flanked by two guards in deep crimson armor. As they spotted Typhon, both straightened and dipped their heads with respect.
"Lord Typhon," one intoned solemnly.
"Is the King within?" Typhon asked, not breaking stride.
"He is, my Lord."
At his nod, the doors creaked open, and a wash of warm golden light spilled forth. Sapphire's eyes widened as her gaze was drawn immediately not to the throne, as expected but to a Slow Loris, oddly majestic, perched on a carved stool. Its fur shimmered slightly, and a cluster of maids busied around it, brushing its coat and adorning it with garlands, as though it were a creature of worship.
Before she could process the absurdity, a firm voice called out from across the chamber.
"Typhon!"
A tall figure emerged from the shadows, framed by sunlight cascading through stained glass. His hair was like molten gold, long and loosely tied behind his back, His face was striking — almost unnaturally so. It held a youthfulness that defied the weight of the crown he bore and the bloodshed his name was tied to. No crease of worry or burden marred his features. It was the kind of face that made men underestimate him… until it was too late.
His chin was strong, angular, A sharp jawline framed his firm, chiseled face, giving him an air of quiet authority. His cheekbones stood high and proud, carved as though by the gods themselves, and his mouth, though soft in shape, was held in a line of perfect control — not quite a smile, not quite a frown.
But it was his eyes that made one pause.
Green — not the gentle green of spring, but something deeper, colder, They didn't sparkle. They pierced. And as they landed on Sapphire, they didn't blink.
She found herself holding her breath.
Typhon gave a curt nod to the king nothing grand, just enough to show respect.
"Isis," he greeted.
The king's striking green eyes shifted to Sapphire, slowly trailing over her as though she were an object to be examined, appreciated. Sapphire instinctively gulped, her heart suddenly hammering in her chest.
"Ah… I see you've brought a gift," Isis said with a sly smile. "How thoughtful of you."
Typhon didn't respond to the jab, nor did he bother introducing her.
"Why did you summon me?" Typhon asked, his tone sharp, cold. Clearly, he wasn't here for games.
"Straight to the point," Isis chuckled, eyes never leaving Sapphire. "I like that about you, Typhon."
Unwilling to stay invisible any longer, Sapphire stepped forward with a soft curtsy.
"Lady Sapphire, Your Majesty."
Isis arched a brow, clearly amused. "Tell me, Lady Sapphire… what think you of my freshly picked Freesia?"
She glanced at the blooms adorning the walls their fragrance faint but lingering.
"Colourful, Your Highness," she said, keeping her voice calm. "Though I wouldn't say they were freshly picked. Judging by the scent, they've been here a day… perhaps two."
That earned a low laugh from the king. "A maiden with honesty and wit. A rare find indeed."
But the moment passed as quickly as it came. His gaze returned to Typhon, now back to business.
"How are the taxes coming in?" he asked coolly.
"Creedom has failed to meet up with their dues," Typhon reported coolly, "as have a few neighboring villages. But aside from that, your serfs have harvested well this season."
King Isis gave a thoughtful hum, turning toward the window for a beat before facing them again.
"I shall visit my lands soon," he said. Then, with a sly smile returning to his lips, he added, "I do have more pressing news… but seeing you have company, I dare not keep a lady waiting."
His eyes flickered to Sapphire again, the smile he offered warm on the surface, but something beneath it twisted. It unsettled her.
Sapphire curtsied, her voice honeyed and polite. "A pleasure to make Your Majesty's acquaintance."
"Indeed," Isis murmured. "I shall see you again, Lady Sapphire."
As the massive doors closed behind them, cutting off the king's gaze, Sapphire let out a quiet breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
"Something about him…" she started, her brow furrowing.
"Milord, I apologize for the inconvenience," she offered softly, hoping to break through Typhon's stony silence.
But he didn't answer. He didn't even glance at her.
The stable boy was already waiting with his stallion, reins in hand. Typhon signalled wordlessly.
"Come," he said.
Sapphire could tell by the way his jaw tightened and his brows twitched that he was not pleased. She obeyed without question.
He lifted her — more gently than expected and set her onto the stallion. Then, without a word more, he mounted behind her and rode off, hooves echoing through the cobbled streets of the now-darkened city