The explosion ripped through the royal palace's eastern annex like a roar from the depths of the earth. Windows shattered, showering shards of glass across the marble floors, and a plume of black smoke twisted up into the late afternoon sky. Screams rang out as nobles and servants alike scrambled in confusion, their silken dresses and embroidered coats trailing in the chaos. Guards shouted orders, their armor clanging as they rushed toward the source of the blast.
From the shadow of a tall pillar in the palace gardens, Drovok's sharp green eyes locked onto the commotion. He had been following Maliny silently all day, his heavy steps muffled by a hunter's precision. The blast was the distraction he needed. Without hesitation, he moved. His massive frame cut through the shadows like a predator slipping into the hunt, unseen despite his size.
The corridor leading to the Crown Prince's private chambers was nearly deserted; most of the guards had rushed toward the explosion. Drovok's jaw clenched as he approached the door—his nostrils flaring at the faint scent of spiced wine and… something bitter. Poison.
He shoved the door open, his eyes instantly finding her. Maliny lay limp on a chaise lounge, her head tilted to the side, silver-blonde hair spilling like silk over the cushions. Her breathing was shallow, her lips pale. Rage surged through him, quick and hot, but there was no time to indulge it. He strode forward, scooping her into his arms with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the claws on his hands.
"You're safe now," he murmured, though she could not hear him.
With swift, silent steps, he slipped out through a servant's passage and into the palace gardens. Smoke and panic kept eyes turned elsewhere as he carried her away, his hulking figure vanishing into the maze of trees that led toward the outer city.
By the time the nobles and guards stormed into the Crown Prince's chambers, the room was empty except for the lingering scent of perfume and the faint warmth still clinging to the couch. Whispers began immediately—assumptions filling the void left by the absence of truth.
"She must have been here with him…"
"No doubt, alone… how scandalous."
The Crown Prince's jaw tightened as he entered, hearing the murmurs like daggers. He masked his fury for the crowd, but inside, rage boiled.
Later, in the privacy of his chambers, the mask shattered.
"Alex!" His voice cracked like a whip.
The former mercenary appeared at the door, posture relaxed despite the storm in the room.
"What happened?" the Prince snarled, slamming a goblet onto the table so hard wine splashed across the marble. "She was here—this close—and now she's gone! Who dares steal from me in my own palace?"
Alex simply watched him, one brow raised. "Seems someone dared, Your Highness."
"Don't toy with me," the Prince hissed, pacing like a caged beast. "Find her. I don't care how. Do you understand me?"
Alex gave a short nod, his eyes unreadable, before slipping out of the room.
⸻
At the Duke's estate, Drovok laid Maliny gently on her bed. Her breathing had steadied, though she remained unconscious, her face calm as if in a deep, dreamless sleep. For a moment, he allowed himself to simply watch her—his chest loosening only when he was certain she was unharmed.
When Leonardo entered and Drovok recounted every detail, the Duke's expression shifted from stillness to a cold, calculated fury.
"He tried to use her," Leonardo said quietly, his fingers drumming against the desk. "In my city. In my presence."
The last word dripped with venom.
"What will you do?" Drovok asked, though part of him already feared the answer.
Leonardo's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes—a smile that promised retribution. "What I always do. I will return the insult."
Something in his voice made the back of Drovok's neck prickle. It wasn't just anger; it was the kind of satisfaction that came from weaving a trap so intricate that the prey wouldn't even know it was caught until it was far too late.
Drovok's instincts screamed. There was a darkness in Leonardo's calm, an almost surgical cruelty in the way he spoke of revenge. As he listened, he felt a cold thread of unease slide down his spine, like the brush of ice against bare skin. He had seen cunning generals, ruthless kings, and merciless warlords—but the young Duke's brand of patience was something else entirely.
And in that moment, Drovok realized: Leonardo's mind was not only dangerous—it was the kind of dangerous that didn't just win battles. It destroyed entire worlds… slowly, beautifully, and without a trace is that what make him heir?.