"Lady Nystrix, the king requests your presence."
A sweet-looking maid with short hair stood by the door, bowing politely. Nystrix was still lying lazily on the bed, her hair scattered on the pillows, staring blankly at the ceiling. It had been two days since she found herself in the witches' realm. She remembered fainting the first night, then waking up much later to Gadmyne's calm face explaining that her collapse was because of an overload of power.
Her body still felt strange, like it was storing too much energy she didn't yet understand.
Nystrix tilted her head at the maid's words, a small laugh escaping her lips. Of course. She knew Jamyd wouldn't wait too long before sending for her.
"Tell him that I'm busy right now," Nystrix said, sitting up slowly and brushing her hair off her shoulder.
The maid blinked, obviously not expecting such a blunt refusal, but she quickly lowered her gaze. "Yes, Lady Nystrix." She bowed again and left the room.
Nystrix exhaled, falling back against the soft cushions. She could already imagine Jamyd's reaction. His pride wouldn't let him take such rejection lightly, and she wasn't sure if she should feel nervous about that—or amused. Somewhere in her chest, a faint, restless power stirred. It was like her core already knew a storm was about to come.
~~~~~~~
"WHAT?!"
The roar shook the chamber. Jamyd's face twisted with fury after hearing Nystrix's response. His aura surged, so dark and heavy that the air turned cold. The maid who had delivered the message trembled where she stood, her knees threatening to give out.
"That runt!" Jamyd spat, slamming his palm against the armrest of his chair. "She dares—she dares to refuse me?"
The maid fell to her knees, bowing so low her forehead touched the ground. "P-p-please, your majesty, I only delivered her words as she said them…"
Jamyd's head snapped toward her, his eyes glowing dangerously. "You. If you had done your work properly, she would not have refused."
"M-my king… I–I…" The maid stammered, voice breaking.
Before she could finish, Jamyd lunged forward with inhuman speed, his hand clamping around her throat. The girl let out a strangled cry, clawing at his grip, but Jamyd only squeezed tighter, his face a mask of cruel amusement.
"If you can't do your work, then you don't deserve to live," he hissed.
The maid tried to form words, her lips shaping desperate sounds, but nothing came out. With one sharp movement, Jamyd's hand tightened.
Crack.
The sound echoed through the hall. Her body went limp, eyes dimming, as life slipped away from her.
Jamyd let go, and the corpse crumpled heavily to the ground. The silence that followed was chilling. Even Knox, who had been standing quietly in the corner, kept his mouth shut, his face carefully blank.
"Dispose of this garbage," Jamyd said coldly, dusting his hands as though nothing had happened. He turned and strode out of the chamber, his robes sweeping the ground like shadows.
As he passed, his cold gaze flicked toward Knox. "Knox, do you want to dispose of it yourself?"
Knox let out a quick, nervous laugh and bowed deeply. "Of course not, your highness." Without hesitation, he abandoned the corpse to the trembling guards and hurried after Jamyd.
---
In Jamyd's Quarters
The king sat on a rocking chair in the middle of his private garden, eyes closed, his hands resting on the carved wooden arms. The faint scent of night-blooming flowers filled the air, but the calm was deceptive. Jamyd's aura still burned with barely restrained anger.
Knox stood nearby, lips curved in his usual sly smile. He waited patiently until Jamyd's breathing steadied.
"My king," Knox finally said, bowing, "the Luminara Festival is approaching next month. If you wish, you could use that as your stage… a perfect chance to finish off that little runt without anyone daring to question you."
Jamyd's eyes opened slowly, the faintest glimmer of interest flickering in them. "You think I don't already know that?" he asked, his voice low, almost amused.
"Of course you know," Knox said smoothly. "But the question is how you'll do it. The problem isn't her. It's the Archwitch."
At the mention of that name, Jamyd's jaw clenched. He leaned back, tapping his fingers against the chair's arm. "The Archwitch has always been a thorn. She despises me. If I make the wrong move, she'll use it against me."
"That," Knox said, stepping closer, "is why you should use her hate. Turn it to your advantage."
Jamyd's brow arched, curiosity slipping into his gaze. "You want me to turn the Archwitch against everyone else?"
"Exactly." Knox leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper, words sharp and deliberate. "All you need is a spark, and the whole festival will burn. Nystrix will be in the center of it."
Jamyd listened in silence. Then, slowly, a dangerous smile curved his lips. "Go on…"
Knox's grin widened, wicked and full of promise. He bent low, whispering a plan that made even the night air seem darker. The king's expression shifted with every word, from interest to amusement, until finally, he let out a low chuckle.
"Perfect," Jamyd said, his eyes gleaming. "During the Luminara, even the Archwitch won't be able to shield her."
~~~~~~~
Far away, Nystrix sat cross-legged on her bed, her eyes closed. She had been trying to steady her breathing, to calm the restless energy pulsing inside her, but suddenly she shivered.
Her eyes flew open. A strange chill ran through her body, like invisible hands brushing her skin. For a brief second, it felt as though eyes she couldn't see were staring straight at her.
She rubbed her arms, frowning. "Weird…" she muttered. But in her heart, she knew. Somewhere in the shadows of the palace, plans were already being made—plans that might destroy her if she wasn't careful.
Nystrix fiddled with the corner of her blanket, debating, then blurted, "Why did you kiss me?"
There was a pause. Then his low chuckle spilled through the line.
"It seemed feasible at the time."
Her lips pressed together. "…Feasible?"
"Also," he added lightly, "it stopped you from blasting me, right?"
Nystrix's chest tightened. "You could have done anything else to stop me. Or left the room."
"Hahaha," Luthien's laughter was smooth, deliberate, "but where's the fun in that? Besides…" his voice dropped lower, "I've always wanted to kiss those lips of yours. Don't you know?"
Nystrix froze, heat rushing to her cheeks. Before she could answer, the line went dead.