POV: Luka
In the castle, silence meant survival. It meant knowing when not to ask questions, when not to react, when to let cruelty pass over you without leaving marks that others could see.
I had learned it as a child, watching servants disappear after saying the wrong thing, watching nobles smile while fear hollowed their eyes. As the heir, silence was expected of me more than anyone else.
That night, the silence in my chambers felt strained, taut like a bowstring pulled too far.
I sat at my desk pretending to read reports on grain levies, though the words blurred together. My thoughts kept circling the same unspoken question: How much longer can this last? Rosalinda’s gaze had followed me too closely at dinner, her smile too sharp, her questions about my training too precise.
A knock sounded at my door.
“Enter,” I said, straightening instinctively.
Emerika slipped inside and closed the door behind her. She looked smaller than usual, her long red hair braided neatly down her back, her blue eyes wide and shining with fear. She curtsied quickly, her movements stiff.
“You asked for the lamps to be refilled, Your Highness,” she said, though the tray in her hands trembled.
“I did,” I replied, though I had not. “You can set them down.”
She did not move toward the table. Instead, she stood frozen near the door, her fingers twisting in the fabric of her apron.
“Emerika,” I said quietly, “what is wrong?”
Her breath hitched. “I was told to come here.”
The unease in my chest sharpened. “By whom?”
She hesitated, then whispered, “Queen.”
My pulse quickened. Rosalinda rarely spoke to servants directly. When she did, it was never without purpose.
“What did she tell you to do?” I asked.
Emerika swallowed hard. “She told me to get close to you,” she said, her voice shaking. “You were lonely…. And… She said you would listen to me.”
The realization landed heavily. “She sent you here to seduce me,” I said.
Emerika nodded, tears spilling over. “I didn’t want to,” she said desperately. “Please, forgive me, Your Highness. She threatened me… She said my family would suffer if I refused.”
I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “Tell me everything,” I said. “Every word she spoke to you.”
Emerika’s shoulders shook as she forced herself to continue. “She said if I became… close to you, and if I conceived a child, she would take the baby. She said the court would believe it was hers. She said it would become the new heir. And you…” her face went pale. “Poisoned, Your Highness.”
My hands clenched. The room seemed to tilt. Poison. Quiet, convenient, and untraceable. Rosalinda’s methods were always elegant.
“Why are you telling me this?” I demanded. “If she threatened you, why risk her wrath now?”
Emerika looked up at me, her expression raw and terrified. “I couldn’t do it,” she said. “Because when I was here with you… I’m… Forgive me, Your Highness, but… I… I think I love you.”
I stared at her, stunned. “You don’t know me.”
“I know enough,” she said through tears. “I know you don’t look at people like tools, and you hate what this castle does to us. I know you try to be kind when kindness is dangerous.”
Her words struck deeper than I expected. I turned away, pacing the room, trying to think. Rosalinda had grown bolder than I imagined. This was no distant plotting; this was an attempt on my life.
“There is only one thing to do,” I said finally. “I will tell the king.”
Her face crumpled. “He won’t believe you,” she whispered. “He trusts her more than anyone.”
“He is my father,” I said, though doubt gnawed at me. “He will listen.”
I stopped in front of her. “You need to leave my chambers immediately,” I said. “Go back to the servants’ wing. Do not speak to anyone. If anyone questions you, say you were sent away.”
She reached out and caught my sleeve, her grip trembling. “Please don’t abandon me,” she whispered. “If she finds out I told you—”
“I won’t let her touch you,” I promised, though I was no longer certain how much protection my word carried in this castle.
I left her standing there and strode into the corridor.
The walk to my father’s office felt longer than it ever had. Guards watched me carefully as I passed, their expressions unreadable. The castle hummed with its usual tension, unaware that rot was spreading beneath its stones.
Cassian’s office lay at the heart of the keep, a vast chamber lined with shelves of ancient tomes and ledgers. A long table dominated the center, where the king met his advisors to shape the fate of the realm. The doors were guarded, but they opened when I approached.
The council fell silent as I entered.
Cassian stood at the head of the table, his crown resting nearby, his eyes sharp and assessing. “What is this interruption?” he demanded.
“I need to speak with you,” I said. “Privately.”
“You will speak here,” he replied coldly. “Say what you came to say.”
I drew a steadying breath. “Rosalinda is plotting against me,” I said clearly. “She sent a servant to seduce me, to conceive a child she could claim as hers. Then she intended to poison me.”
Several advisors stiffened. One glanced toward Cassian, then quickly away. Cassian’s expression darkened, then shifted into something like amusement.
“You accuse my queen of treason based on a servant’s tale?” he asked softly.
“She can be questioned,” I said. “She told me everything.”
Cassian stepped closer, his presence looming. “Rosalinda has given me loyalty, alliances, and stability,” he said. “She has stood beside me when others betrayed me. She would not risk everything for such a crude scheme.”
“She is desperate,” I argued. “She has no child, and she knows the throne will never be hers if I rule.”
Cassian’s hand slammed onto the table. “Enough,” he snarled. “You will not undermine my authority with paranoid fantasies.”
“I am trying to protect this kingdom,” I said, my voice shaking. “If she poisons me—”
“You will obey,” Cassian snapped. “And you will not speak against the queen again.”
The finality in his tone chilled me. Before I could respond, a deep boom shook the chamber. Candles flickered violently. Dust fell from the ceiling.
Another impact followed, closer. Shouts erupted outside.
Cassian turned sharply. “What is happening?”
The doors burst open as a guard stumbled in, pale and breathless. “Your Majesty,” he gasped, “the outer wall has been breached.”
“Who?” Cassian demanded.
The guard swallowed hard. “The King and Queen of the Lycans have arrived. They brought an army.”
The room erupted into chaos. Cassian’s face twisted with fury as he reached for his sword, and in that moment, I felt the weight of everything shift. The lies, the silence, the fear—all of it was about to collide.
War had come to the castle, and nothing would remain hidden any longer.