"Aurelia," Lord Marcellus began, his tone measured and deliberate, his gaze locked on Lady Aurelia. "The time has come for decisive action. King Torin's rule can no longer be endured."
Lady Aurelia inclined her head, a flicker of fire sparking in her eyes. "I agree, Marcellus. But I fear Queen Lyra harbors ambitions of her own. Her assurances feel empty, and her loyalty remains uncertain."
Marcellus gave a dismissive scoff. "Lyra may be merciless, but falsehood is not her craft."
"Perhaps not," Aurelia answered, her voice sharpening. "But she plays for herself alone. We all know the story she weaves."
A silence settled between them, heavy and suffocating. At length, Marcellus spoke again.
"Where is Malen?" he asked, one brow lifting in a quiet question.
"He is on an errand, though I expect him back soon." Aurelia crossed the chamber to a wooden table, lifted a jug of wine, and poured dark liquid into a goblet. "Come, have some."
"Queen Lyra expects us in a week's time," Marcellus said as he joined her at the table. Lowering himself into a chair, he accepted the goblet and took a careful sip before setting it down. His gaze never left Lady Aurelia.
Aurelia folded her arms, suspicion threading her words. "What has she promised you?"
At the doorway, Malen arrived and froze, the conversation holding him captive in silence.
Marcellus refilled his goblet before answering. "She has pledged me the governorship of a key province in Nightveil. Autonomy. Authority. Power…"
He paused.
"Power you already command under Torin," Aurelia countered, her gaze unwavering as she sat across from him.
"According to the kingly hierarchy of Vanilor, you have only three ranks to climb before reaching the throne," she added, her voice steady. She blinked once and released a sharp breath.
Marcellus inclined his head, the weight of her words pressing into his thoughts. With a graceful sweep of her hand, an image took form within his mind's eye, etched upon phantom parchment:
Kingly Hierarchy of Vanilor
1. King
2. Prince
3. Duke
4. Lord
5. General
6. Captain
7. Knight
8. Sergeant
9. Soldier
10. Squire
"What assurance do we have she will not cast us aside once she has taken what she wants?"
Marcellus's expression hardened. "She will not. You must trust me."
"Just as Jasmine trusted you?" Aurelia snapped, slamming her palm against the table. Marcellus's brow furrowed as his glare met hers.
"She believed in you. That was her undoing." Her voice trembled with fury. Grief blazed in her narrowed eyes as she rose abruptly, words striking like venom. "Go to hell."
"I did everything I could to protect her!" Marcellus cried, his voice breaking. Tears pooled in his eyes as he pressed on. "She was all I had. My world."
"Your world?" Aurelia's voice rose, jagged with pain. "She was my sister!" Her finger stabbed the air between them, her body trembling. "Why are we even speaking of this?"
Before the quarrel could ignite further, Marcellus spoke again, low and weighted.
"What if she is alive?"
The chamber fell into silence.
Aurelia turned, disbelief carved into her features. Her lips parted, but no sound came. At last, her voice broke through. "Wh-What are you saying?"
"The ambush," Marcellus murmured. "The soldiers were Torin's elites. He commanded it himself."
"Torin…" Aurelia exhaled, her breath quivering. "Are you saying Jasmine lives?"
Marcellus gave a slow, grave nod.
Tears swelled in Aurelia's eyes before spilling freely. She strode forward and struck him across the face.
"You kept this from me all this time," she choked.
Marcellus straightened, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek where her blow had landed. A cold resolve burned in his eyes as he held her gaze. "I swear to you, Torin will answer for his crimes. And I will begin with his son… Victor."
At the door, Malen stiffened, shock flashing across his face. He smothered it quickly, though his heart pounded. Pushing the door open, he drew both their eyes, the conflict within him flickering in a glance neither Aurelia nor Marcellus could ignore.
******
◈That Evening◈
Queen Ashley stood before Torin, her presence luminous, her beauty touched with an almost celestial grace. Draped in a gown of silver silk that shimmered like starlight, she moved with quiet elegance toward him. Torin's eyes never left her, filled with awe and an affection that softened the edges of his stern countenance.
"How do I look?" Ashley asked, her voice a gentle melody that seemed to calm the air itself.
Torin drew in a breath, releasing it slowly, his gaze drinking her in.
"As radiant as ever, my queen," he said, his tone rich with devotion, a smile warming his lips.
"Where are you off to?" he asked, brushing a loose strand of hair from her shoulder with tender care.
"It is the weekend," she replied with a soft smile. "I will visit the orphanage first, then see to the palace's charitable duties."
Torin sighed, slipping his arms around her and pulling her close. He pressed a tender kiss against her lips, his voice low when he spoke again. "Do not stay away too long."
"I won't, my love," Ashley whispered. Her fingers smoothed the hem of his robe, lingering on his shoulders as she met his blue eyes with unflinching warmth.
"I'll be restless without you," Torin murmured, his lips curving into a playful pout.
"Then I will have Victor play your favorite 'Last Kiss' for you while I am gone," she teased, letting her fingertips graze his mouth.
Torin smirked, his gaze unwavering. "Then give me a last kiss before Victor plays us the Last Kiss."
With a final, lingering glance, Ashley leaned close, capturing Torin's lips once more in a parting kiss before turning toward the door. "See you soon, my king."
******
✦IN ASHVALE✦
Vashti stood before her mirror, her brows faintly drawn, her reflection touched with unease.
"Prepare me for a walk, Olivia," she said, her voice edged with tension. "I feel… unsettled."
Her maid moved with quiet precision, adjusting the folds of Vashti's gown and brushing her hair into soft waves. Vashti studied herself in silence, catching the weariness shadowing her features. She forced the thought aside, rising from her seat and heading for the door, Olivia following at her heels.
But as Vashti reached the door, her steps faltered. A sudden weakness stole the strength from her limbs. She staggered once, then collapsed, her body crumpling to the floor before Olivia could catch her.