The roses were in bloom again.Blood-red petals. Thorns like tiny spears.A fitting backdrop for betrayal.
Evelyne stood in the center of the royal garden, her fingers brushing against a velvet bloom.She could still feel the phantom weight of Leonhart's gaze from days ago — sharp, accusing, wounded.
"Your Highness?"A voice broke through her thoughts.Liora, her lady-in-waiting, ever loyal, ever watchful.
"Proceed," Evelyne murmured without turning.
Liora bowed her head and stepped aside, revealing a man dragged between two guards.His clothes were torn, his face bruised, but his eyes burned with defiance.
"Gerran of the Night Owls," Liora intoned. "Caught smuggling letters to the border camps. Letters bearing your fiancé's seal."
Evelyne finally turned, her face carved from ice."Is this true?" she asked softly, almost kindly.
The man spat blood onto the grass. "Your whole court rots while you clutch at shadows, Princess. At least Leonhart fights for something real—"
A flick of her wrist.The guards silenced him with a brutal blow.He crumpled like a puppet with cut strings.
Evelyne knelt beside him, voice still soft."You think he's the only one who bleeds?" she whispered. "You think I don't know what it means to choke on the chains of fate?"
Her hand curled around his throat, delicate but unyielding."I am not my father. I am not those gilded fools in the throne room. If you serve him… if you whisper his lies in my city…"Her grip tightened until his face turned red."I will unmake you."
She released him, and he gasped, coughing violently."Take him to the Black Cells," Evelyne ordered. "Break him. I want names. Networks. Routes. Everything."
The guards dragged him away, leaving a trail of blood among the roses.
Liora hesitated. "Your Highness… this is dangerous. Leonhart is gathering strength. You're provoking him."
Evelyne's lips twitched into a shadow of a smile."Good."She plucked a rose from the bush, ignoring the thorn that sliced her finger."Let him gather. Let him believe he's the spider spinning his web. I will be the flame that burns it."
Liora shifted uneasily. "He was once your—"
"I know what he was."Her voice cracked — just for a moment.Then it turned cold again."And I know what he will become if I do nothing. A monster. A tyrant. And I will not let this kingdom trade one devil for another."
The wind stirred, carrying with it whispers of distant storms.
Meanwhile, miles away…
In the dimly lit war room, I sat staring at the map sprawled before me.Black pins marked my hidden strongholds.Red pins marked my enemies.And now… blue pins began appearing like cancer.
"She's moving against us," Donmar growled. "Intercepted three couriers this week. One barely made it back alive."
I leaned back, exhaling through gritted teeth."Of course she is."Evelyne was too sharp, too ruthless to sit idle while I built my army.She'd seen the cracks forming in the kingdom, and she'd be damned before letting me widen them.
But there was more.This wasn't just strategy.This was personal.
I could feel it — the ghost of our last conversation lingering like smoke in my lungs.
"She's trying to cut off my roots before I can grow strong enough to strike," I muttered. "Smart. Ruthless. She's finally playing the game."
Donmar spat to the side. "Want me to send a message? Something loud and bloody?"
Tempting.So tempting.But too soon.
"No," I said. "Not yet. Let her think she's winning. Let her taste the illusion of control."
I stood, my hands curling into fists."Because when I strike back… it will be the kind of wound that never heals."
The room fell silent.The kind of silence that came before a slaughter.
Far away, beneath moonlight and roses, Evelyne whispered to herself:"Soon… Leonhart. We will end this. One way or another."
And in the dark, I whispered back:"Soon, Evelyne. You and I will burn this world together — and call it justice."