Todays song is " Tea Party by Melanie Martinez "
ENJOY
Alex's POV
I don't flinch when the heavy iron door creaks open behind me.
"Anything?" My voice is quiet, but sharp as a blade.
Obrovosky steps in, shoulders squared, eyes as unreadable as ever.
"Nothing," he replies, his tone stoic.
"Shit," I mutter, raking a hand through my hair.
He takes two steps forward, his boots echoing against the stone.
"Not even a word, sir. Just—"
A shriek tears through the silence. It comes from the eastern chamber, distant but unmistakable.
"Just screams," he finishes grimly.
I sigh, jaw clenched.
"Tell Gable to step down."
Obrovosky arches an eyebrow.
"I want you to handle it now. You're the best at getting into people's heads—and under their skin."
He nods once, a silent affirmation, and pivots without another word. Every movement precise. Efficient. Cold.
After last night's ambush, we made sure to erase all evidence of survivors. Burned bodies, scattered debris, forged reports. But Obrovosky managed to retain one celestial soldier without alerting their kingdom. Clever bastard. It's a miracle in itself.
Nearly thirty hours and still no intel. But this prisoner might be our only thread—our one chance to untangle the truth behind their sudden aggression. I can't afford to let this unravel.
A knock disrupts my thoughts.
"Come in," I say.
No answer.
"OPEN THE DOOR, YOU DAMN BOY, MY HANDS ARE FULL!"
I shut my eyes.
Adele.
Bracing myself, I pull open the door. And there she is—a vision of chaos, arms stacked with silver-plated trays and steaming porcelain teapots.
"Sweet hell, Adele. You're far too old for theatrics like this," I mutter, taking a tray before she drops it.
"Old?" she repeats, sweeping past me with a grace only she could maintain while carrying three pitchers of saffron tea. "My dear, I'm seasoned—like the finest wines. I can do far more than you, even in my slippers."
I smirk, placing the dishes beside her as she arranges everything with military precision.
"As you say, milady," I reply, tone laced with sarcasm.
She ignores it. Of course she does.
"Now, might I ask why you deemed breakfast a luxury this morning?"
Here it comes.
"After last night, things escalated. I didn't have time for casual meals and morning gossip," I say, pouring myself a cup.
She hums, unimpressed. "You are the king, not an immortal war machine. Overburden yourself, and you'll rule a grave."
"I'll manage," I answer, sipping the tea. Strong. Bitter. Like truth.
"Oh, I know you will," she says, voice softening.
There's something in her gaze. If I didn't know her, I'd call it sadness.
She begins straightening the room, dusting off scrolls, sorting parchments, aligning things no one cares about but her. And still—my mind drifts.
Lilith.
It's not like I haven't been thinking about her. The opposite, really. She lives behind my eyelids now. In her silence, in her screams. In her hatred.
But Adele—Adele adores her.
"Young Louise is escorting her through the Ransom Castle," she says suddenly, not turning.
My spine tenses.
"Say that again?"
She finally turns to face me, brow arched. "I thought you might like to know about young Lilith's whereabouts."
"Didn't have time to think about it," I lie.
She sees right through me.
"Mm. Quite," she replies, lips pursed.
"Why didn't you show her around, Adele? You know this place like your own veins."
"True," she says, adjusting a plate with unnecessary care. "But the girl found herself a companion. One quite familiar with the castle. I dare say—more so than me."
That smile. That fucking smile.
"To be frank, I'm rather relieved Lilith found a friend in Louise. He's kind-hearted."
Kind-hearted? He's a flirt in silk gloves.
I roll my eyes.
"They looked quite charming this morning. Were I less informed, I might mistake them for a budding couple."
"Not happening," I say through gritted teeth.
Adele whirls around, eyes narrowing with amused elegance.
"Oh really? And why not, pray tell? It certainly doesn't appear that you care one bit."
"Who said I don't care?"
"Your behavior, dear boy. Your neglect speaks louder than any protest you could muster."
I grit my teeth.
"I don't know what you mean."
"Then allow me to enlighten you: if you cared, you wouldn't have abandoned the poor girl last night after that... intimate encounter."
I stare at her. She couldn't possibly—
"Oh don't look at me like that. I wasn't born yesterday, and I was born gifted."
Witch. She's a damn witch.
"Nothing happened. We talked," I reply stiffly.
Her face. Her lips. Her breathless voice whispering my name. My restraint.
"Doesn't take a prophet to see something did occur," she replies sharply. "And I'd wager a thousand years of prophecy you were the one who walked away."
"She's the enemy," I mumble.
"No. She's a girl. One taken from her world and thrown into yours. A girl who, incidentally, bears an uncanny resemblance to the late Queen Renara."
A knock cuts through the tension.
"Come in," I say.
Obrovosky enters.
"Oh! Look who graces us," Adele gasps, embracing him. "We miss you at the castle, my dear. You must come more often."
"I will, when duty allows," he says, a rare smile tugging at his lips.
"See that you do. Now, eat something, both of you. And don't overextend yourselves, understood?"
She exits with a rustle of skirts, leaving behind warmth and words that sting.
I turn to Obrovosky.
"So?"
"He's begun speaking. But only things we already know. Nothing valuable."
I sigh.
"Leave it. I'll take my turn with him."
Obrovosky looks surprised, but says nothing.
"In the meantime, keep an eye on Lilith and Louise."
He nods. "Yes, sir."
As he leaves, I see it—that slight smile.
She's growing on him too.
She will be happy to see him
Not when its me.
I grip the edge of the desk.
She smiles for everyone
everyone but me
Not that i can blame her.
Not after all ive done
shit
"Way to go, Alex"
I rise from the chair and head for the chamber.
"Now now Let's see what you know, soldier" I mutter while i disappear into the darkness of the catle halls
Lilith's POV
"Oh, how radiant youth is! The age of bloom, of reckless affection," Raquele sighs, gently swirling her tea with a golden spoon. Her posture is regal, her words soft and deliberate, yet her eyes gleam with untamed energy
We've spent most of the afternoon drinking this strange herbal tea and exchanging stories. I'll admit, I've never been a fan of tea—usually tastes like disappointment and grass—but whatever this is? This is divine. Like drinking warm secrets.
"Tell me, my dear," Raquele leans forward, eyes glinting, "is there a certain... dashing young man who's caught your heart?"
I nearly choke on my tea.
"Oh! No. Not at all," I reply quickly, smiling through the panic.
"Yeah, right," Louise coughs into his cup, clearly faking it.
I shoot him a look so sharp it could slice his smirking face in half.
"You want to die today?" I mouth.
He sticks out his tongue like a brat. Ugh.
Raquele gasps, delighted. "Oh, so there is someone!"
I glance down, cheeks burning. "He... might be handsome," I mumble.
"Look at that blush my dear"
"She was practically a tomato last night," Louise adds, ducking just in time as I try to kick him under the table.
"Shut. Up."
"Oh, there is absolutely no shame in such feelings," Raquele chuckles. "Though perhaps there is shame in that dreadful vocabulary of yours, young man."
She kicks Louise under the table.
"Ow!"
I laugh. Victory.
Louise glares at me. I stick my tongue out in revenge.
He suddenly looks over my shoulder.
"Well, well. Look who the stars dragged in," he says with a smirk.
I turn.
"Obrovosky?"
My heart jumps.
"Don't act too happy to see me, Princess," he grumbles.
Too late. I leap from my chair and hug him like a human missile. He actually laughs, spinning me once before setting me down.
"Hey there, Princess," he says.
"What are you doing here? Don't tell me he sent you—"
"He didn't," Obrovosky interrupts smoothly. "Heard you were touring and thought I'd say hi."
"Since when do you say hi?" Louise snorts.
"Since I felt like it, twig boy," he replies.
A thwack echoes.
Raquele has just smacked Obrovosky in the back of the head with a decorative shovel.
"Son of a—!"
"Finish that sentence," Raquele warns with a dainty smile, holding the shovel like a queen holds her scepter. "And I shall introduce you to a vocabulary lesson personally."
We're all frozen.
"Did she just—?" I whisper.
Louise nods solemnly. "Welcome to the club."
"Apologies, madam," Obrovosky says, giving a respectful bow.
Raquele waves her hand. "None of that with me, soldier. Sit. We were about to discuss my darling Louise's first crush."
Louise jolts. "We were doing no such thing."
"It would be an honor," Obrovosky says smoothly, grinning as he takes a seat.
"Perfect. I'll fetch more tea," Raquele trills, vanishing into the castle like a breeze.
"That was... something," Obrovosky says.
"You get used to it," I chuckle.
I shift closer to him, lowering my voice.
"Hey, Vosky. Do you know anything about last night's attack?"
His face changes. It goes from amused to stone.
"Not much. It was definitely an enemy strike."
I nod, eyes on my tea.
"I know it was my people," I say. "But I don't understand why."
"It's not your burden, Princess," he replies. "Things run deeper than we see."
"He's right," Louise adds. "Besides, why worry when you could entertain us by recounting last night's scene?"
"Nope!" I say immediately. "You shut it."
Obrovosky raises an eyebrow. "What scene?"
"No scene," I say quickly.
Louise leans over to Obrovosky, whispering something. Obrovosky's expression morphs: confusion, realization, shock.
"Whatever he just said is a lie," I state. "A complete lie."
"Then why are you red again?" Louise teases.
"I am NOT!"
"A little," Vosky says innocently.
Raquele returns just in time to rescue me.
"What is all this scandal?" she asks.
"Nothing!" we chorus.
She sets down a tray and opens a dusty leather-bound book.
"Now, I happened upon my old photo album. Who wants to see some of Louise's more adorable phases?"
"ME!" Obrovosky shouts, then coughs and sits like a statue. "I mean, I would like to see them."
Watching Vosky break character is a rare treat. Almost makes him human.
Almost.
"He used to love dressing in his mother's jewelry," Raquele hums.
She flips another page.
Then another.
And then—
My blood goes cold.
A photograph. Old. Faded.
Three women. One of them is unmistakably a younger Raquele.
Another is unfamiliar. But the third—
No. No, that's not possible.
She looks exactly like me.
Not kind of. Not similar.
Me.
Same hair. Same eyes. Same damn smirk I try to hide when I'm nervous.
"Ms. Raquele?" My voice is thin. "Who are these women?"
Her hand trembles as she touches the photograph with reverent fingers.
"Ah, yes... how could I forget? These were the Three Witches."
"Witches?" we all echo.
"Yes," she says slowly. "Before the war shattered everything, each kingdom was said to be protected by one powerful witch. Edorill had me. Cerberus had Renara. And Celestial had Twilight."
Obrovosky leans in. "I've heard stories. But no one ever confirmed it."
"The stories are real," Raquele says. "We were born of fire, wind, and blood. When war loomed, I tried to cross back to Edorill... but I was ambushed. I spent five years in a coma."
Her voice drops.
"When I awoke, Twilight was dead. The Celestial kingdom buried the truth. And not long after, Renara fell as well."
Renara. The queen. The woman who looks like me.
My stomach twists.
Why does no one ever tell me these things?
How many people know?
Raquele's eyes meet mine. "You resemble her more than I could ever imagine, child."
Everyone else finds it curious. Fascinating. A mystery to solve.
I find it horrifying.
That woman. That photograph. The prophecy.
How much of what I know is truth... and how much has been kept from me?