Eichhorst's face had gone completely white.
Not pale from anger.
From fear.
Real fear.
He stared at the face beneath the mask like the world itself had split open in front of him.
"…Draven," he breathed.
The name barely sounded human leaving his mouth.
Draven smiled faintly.
Cold.
Beautiful.
Terrifying.
Then suddenly—
his expression disappeared completely.
His hand tightened around Eichhorst's throat.
Hard.
Eichhorst choked violently before Draven threw him across the garden like he weighed nothing.
He crashed against the stone path with a broken gasp.
Guards immediately rushed toward him.
"Your Majesty!"
Eichhorst shoved them away violently while coughing hard, one hand pressed against his bruised throat.
His eyes lifted slowly toward Draven again.
Hatred.
Shock.
Calculation.
"You…" he rasped. "You deceived this kingdom."
Draven rolled blood slowly off his blade with one finger.
"I never lied," he replied calmly.
