Just when Miria had the impression that the conversation had moved into a delicate area, the sound of determined footsteps broke the tranquility.
Kira came briskly, unceremoniously, and stared into Morena's eyes.
— Morena, have you finished telling Miria stories? she snapped.
Morena turned to her with a calm, almost friendly smile.
— Kira, my dear, It's nice to see you. And always so direct. Still so… jealous?
Kira didn't look surprised. On the contrary, a hint of annoyance crossed his face.
— Jealous of what, exactly? she hissed.
— About my relationship with Asher.
— About your alleged relationship with Asher? Don't be ridiculous.
Morena tilted her head slightly, as if amused by the attack.
"Oh, I'm not just pretending. We had our connections once. Deep connections.
Kira burst out laughing, full of contempt.
—Are you kidding? You're not even friends! And you imagine a relationship… let's see. Me and Asher are friendship — pure, simple — and I can crash his house whenever I want. You, Morena, do not have this right. Miria, she has already slept in his bed, swam with him, shared hours that you don't know.
Morena's smile faded. Miria felt her face burn with embarrassment — then with dull anger. She clenched her fists, while Alix, coldly, observed the scene without intervening.
Morena continued, icy:
— Really? But I remain skeptical. Asher would never be interested in a girl like her, you know.
Alix, until then silent, stepped forward, her voice sharp:
— Listen, Morena: Miria is not a girl "like the others". And, you may not know it, but Miria looks exactly like Asher's first great love. You didn't know that? This explains a lot of things.
Morena's face betrayed nothing at first - then, imperceptibly, a shadow passed over her features. Kira, feeling weakness, pressed:
— Accept it. Asher will never be interested in a vain and self-confident girl like you. He prefers real people.
Morena raised an eyebrow, piqued.
—How dare you speak to me like that insolently? I will not tolerate being insulted without reply. I am Morena. You should respect me.
The tone went up a notch. Kira was fuming and Morena, for the first time, showed cold anger.
"Be careful," Kira said coldly. Remember, I'm not just a voice — I'm a hybrid. You know what that means, right?
Morena, unable to keep her mask, revealed a biting arrogance.
—What will you do to me? You wouldn't dare.
Kira moved closer, clenched her fists, her gaze burning. His voice was low, but dangerous:
—After what you did, do you think I will still hesitate?
Alix intervened in a more calm tone, trying to calm down:
"Kira, don't do anything stupid. She's not worth it. Don't get your hands dirty for her.
Morena, red with anger, replied in a royal tone:
—How dare you threaten me? And both insult me. I could have you locked up.
Miria felt the explosive tension. She stood up, facing Morena with a confident step.
— With what right? Who gives you this power?
Morena took a step, her hands open as if to appease.
"Don't be insolent, little one. I am—
Miria didn't let him finish. His anger, suppressed until then, exploded in an icy resolution.
— You are nothing. At first, I respected you. But now that I see your true face, you disgust me.
Morena's cheeks went from noble pallor to a slight pink of anger. She opened her mouth to reply, but Miria raised her hand, and her eyes changed—from a soft brown to a deep, intense purple, like three shards of night.
A chill ran through the garden; the lanterns flickered.
Miria spoke slowly, each word carefully:
"Don't forget that I am the daughter of Darrell, the true heir. Is your lineage third? First me, then Asher, and then you. In a few months I will be eighteen. If I decide to demand what is rightfully mine, I will do it bluntly so be wary of taking it out on me or those I love. You will regret it.
An icy silence fell. Morena, at first haughty, opened her eyes wide.
The moment Miria finished, a thread of invisible energy shot out and caught Morena: the lady wanted to make a gesture, bark an injunction - and remained motionless as if caught in a web. His face expressed surprise, then astonishment. She was forced to remain still, to listen, to be helpless.
Miria gave a brief, almost amused smile:
— Yes, Morena. Not only can I read you, but I can compel you. You are not more powerful than me. In truth, I am – without false modesty – much stronger.
She snapped her fingers. The spell broke. Morena fell back slightly, shaken, her gaze burning with shame and suppressed anger.
Miria, cold but controlled, concludes in a firm tone:
— I don't want war. But I am not a toy, nor a prey. Be very careful.
"Let's go," Miria said in a tone that was intended to be light, but where pride shone through.
Together, they left the garden, their silhouettes blending into the avenues of roses. Behind them, Morena remained motionless, her fist clenched, humiliated, her jaw trembling between rage and calculation.