"Of course. Why keep them alive? To waste Aethelred's food?" Isolde was in a terrible mood, so she said the most hurtful things she could. She wanted to see what this weak young lord could possibly do.
You can't kill yourself. You can't beat me. Serves you right for being given to another woman! Serves you right for seducing Victoria! I hope you're furious!
"You... you..." Sylas was utterly speechless. Tears fell from his eyes with soft plops. Then, he lunged forward violently, his hands actually managing to reach Isolde's neck.
Isolde, however, didn't move a muscle, just watched him attempt the assassination.
Sylas used all his strength to choke her, driven to the brink of madness by grief, screaming, "I'll kill you! I'll kill you..."
Isolde continued to breathe slowly and deliberately. Sylas's arms had long lost their strength. He couldn't strangle a chicken now, let alone Isolde.
Watching his frenzy, the love in her heart finally curdled into hatred.
No wonder they say wonderful things are poisonous. This Sylas still wants to kill me. He is, after all, the enemy. You can't tame them!
Seeing she was completely unaffected, Sylas, enraged, tried to sink his teeth into Isolde's windpipe, to bite her to death.
But Isolde had clearly had enough of this game. She simply pushed, and Sylas fell to the floor.
Then, she straddled his chest and said coldly, "Sylas, I'm bored of you. Do you hear me? I've lost interest.
You don't need to initiate kissing me anymore. But I can tell you some good news.
Your family isn't actually dead. They've just been captured. So, stop making a scene."
Sylas instantly went still. He lay motionless, his tear-filled eyes fixed on Isolde. It was good news.
Isolde saw that this threat was remarkably effective and felt quite satisfied. She added, "I plan to give you to someone else. Do you agree?"
Sylas's body trembled. He blinked, letting the tears fall to stop them stinging his eyes. He remained silent.
Seeing him like this, Isolde finally felt much more comfortable. She sneered, "I asked you a question. Do you agree? If not, I'll send you to the court entertainment bureau."
Sylas could no longer hold back his sobs. He asked sorrowfully, "Is there no escaping the fate of becoming a plaything in the end?"
"Of course not. You're so good-looking; isn't that what you're for? Can you play music, chess, calligraphy, or paint? That might raise your value a bit."
"Then... just give me away," he said, turning his head away, heartbroken to the extreme. He had been utterly defeated.
Now, his family was in her hands. He had to do whatever Isolde demanded. The taste of being blackmailed was excruciating.
"Wretch!" Isolde cursed irritably.
Actually, she had wanted Sylas to say, "I want to stay by Your Majesty's side." But Sylas clearly hadn't understood her meaning.
"Alright. Tonight, you'll meet your new mistress. But now, let me play one last time," Isolde said irritably.
Sylas said panicked, "What? I'm about to be given away, and Your Majesty still won't let me go?"
"It's fine. Your new mistress has indicated she doesn't mind."
Sylas's eyes dimmed.
Right. Among the high nobility, exchanging concubines and servants was common practice, even considered refined behavior.
He was just a toy. As long as it was pretty, who cared if it was clean?
Only the husband needed to be clean. Only now did he feel a bone-deep chill.
This is the fate of a conquered slave. I truly can no longer be human.
But then, a desire for revenge—to die together with her—finally surged within him.
Looking at Isolde's contemptuous gaze, his heart filled with rage.
You tyrant. I'll poison you!
He suddenly raised his head and kissed Isolde fiercely!
Isolde was stunned at first, thinking he was trying to curry favor. A sweet, tingling sensation bloomed in her heart.
But before she could fully savor the sweetness, she realized something was wrong.
Is this the expression of someone seeking a kiss? He looks like he wants to kill someone! I see. This man wants to infect me with consumption!
"You wretch... really... ah..." Since that's how it is, let it be a love-hate relationship! She didn't expose Sylas's ridiculous plan, using his initiative to simply enjoy the moment!
...
Night fell upon the Phoenix Hall.
Victoria had arrived dressed very properly. This was perhaps the most properly she had ever been dressed in her life.
The alcohol from the daytime meant nothing to her; she was now terrifyingly sober. But the more sober she was, the more nervous she became.
Tonight's banquet had only three main players: The Empress, herself, and that Sylas she had only seen once.
There had been a few peace talks between Lyonesse and Aethelred. Sylas had attended one. He was only seventeen then.
Among a large group of aged, weathered women, a handsome, intelligent youth like him was incredibly eye-catching.
And to make matters worse, he was poised and captivating. It was at that meeting that Sylas memorized the faces of the Aethelred delegation.
He never imagined that three years later, he'd be seeing one of them face-to-face, lip-to-lip, every day!
Victoria, naturally, remembered him vividly.
But back then, she just thought he was a young noble lord seeing the world. She was greedy for wine, not lustful, so she soon forgot about Sylas.
But when she had forged Aethelred's soldiers into an elite force that won every battle, only to still suffer setbacks against the weak Lyonesse.
It filled the confident Victoria with frustration and a competitive drive. She became even more dedicated, determined to crush Lyonesse completely.
She didn't have a strong possessive desire for Sylas. It was more a feeling of meeting a worthy opponent, a mutual appreciation between peers.
Now, she was the victor. And what was the best way to savor victory? Naturally, it was to see the defeated foe.
Yet she felt inexplicably nervous. Because the Empress had said tonight she would bestow this opponent upon her. This was truly beyond her expectations.
How could I possibly compete with the Empress for a man? But... what if Her Majesty is genuinely sincere? A monarch can find any man. It's normal to discard one after growing bored.
Victoria felt no disdain at all. She didn't even know what to do!
The only meaning in her life had been to prove her worth, to make a nation strong, and thus secure her place in history.
So why were her fingers trembling?
Just then, Isolde arrived, having changed into more casual attire.
Victoria bowed respectfully. Then, she glanced somewhat confusedly behind Isolde.
The graceful figure she expected wasn't there. Her heart sank with disappointment.
Seeing Victoria dressed so properly for the first time, Isolde was somewhat surprised and asked with a smile, "Marshal, you finally decided to tidy up tonight."
Victoria lowered her head. "Dining with Your Majesty, one must pay some attention."
"Heh, then why didn't you tidy up during the day?"
Victoria found an excuse. "There was no time during the day..."
Isolde clapped her hands and giggled. She sat at the head of the table and pointed to the seat beside her. "Marshal, there's no one else tonight. Come sit by me."
Victoria sat next to her. Isolde had attendants pour wine, and below them, dancers and musicians performed.
They drank for a while. Isolde's pretty face was flushed red.
She had cast aside the distinction between ruler and subject, grabbing Victoria's sleeve and calling out earnestly, "Sister Victoria!
Tonight, there are no formalities. You're a few years older than me; I'll call you sister. Let's drink heartily!"
"Your Majesty..."
"Don't call me Your Majesty! Call me Isolde!"
"Yes... as you command."
Isolde's emotions had been volatile today. She was elated by Victoria's return but furious at Sylas's defiance.
So tonight, she wanted to let loose. She wanted Victoria to know she genuinely appreciated talent. Stimulated by the fine wine, she finally called out.
"Come up here! Fill our cups!"
As the words fell, Victoria watched with trepidation as a tall, slender lord, holding a jade wine jug, slowly approached.