Lydia's chamber glowed softly beneath the flicker of candlelight.
A single arched window stood open to the night, its wooden shutters pushed aside so the wind could glide in freely.
The breeze stirred the long velvet curtains, making them sway like slow-moving shadows.
The room was quiet; only the restless flutter of curtains and the soft crackle of the fire from the candles could be heard.
Lydia was seated alone in the center of it all, her figure outlined in a feline posture.
She sat before a mirror, studying the reflection that stared back at her. At forty-two, she was a striking woman, her beauty tempered with the quiet authority of experience.
A few wrinkles marked her forehead, subtle traces of time, but they did nothing to dim the sharp intelligence in her eyes.
Those eyes—bright, alert, and sparkling.
But those eyes… should they sparkle? "
Certainly not now. Not when uncertainty gnawed at her.
So she picked up a small container of kohl, a dark, powdered substance used to line the eyes. With careful hands, she applied it along her lash line, the black pigment deepening the brightness of her gaze.
She traced the black kohl along the sides of her eyes, letting it streak gently down her cheeks, as if tears had already fallen, creating the illusion of sorrow—a sorrow she did not feel.
It was a careful performance, a mask to match Kyron's fury with the right mixture of fear and dignity.
Then she let her red, lustrous hair fall freely, cascading over her shoulders like a fiery waterfall.
It framed her face perfectly, softening the streaked kohl and lending her an almost ethereal presence.
With that done, she allowed herself a small, confident smile. A quiet, knowing curve of the lips.
She brought the cup of wine, which she had held in her other hand all along, to her lips and took a sip. The rich liquid coated her tongue, steadying her nerves and giving her a fleeting sense of calm.
At that moment, a sharp knock echoed through her chamber.
"Lady Lydia, the king has summoned you," came the steady voice of a guard.
The smile on her face vanished as quickly as it had appeared. She allowed herself to adopt a mournful expression, softening her features into one of sorrow.
"I… I will be right there," she replied, then settled the cup down, straightened her posture, and took a deep breath.
Finally, she stepped from her chamber and made her way through the quiet corridors of the castle, each footfall echoing softly against the stone floors.
When she arrived at Kyron's chamber, she knocked twice, her knuckles barely making a sound over the heavy silence. No answer came.
With a steadying breath, she reached for the door and nudged it open. It creaked slightly, but she pushed it wider and stepped inside.
The room was dim, lit only by a single candle flickering on the far table. Kyron was there, seated in his chair, his back straight, his expression unreadable.
"My lord?"
Her voice shook as tears clouded her eyes.
It was at that point that Kyron jolted from his train of thoughts.
Slowly he raised his gaze until it settled on her.
"I mourn with you, my lord," she said, her voice soft, eyes glistening with unshed tears.
He nodded curtly, his expression unreadable.
"That is consoling, Lydia," he said, then motioned toward the empty chair opposite him.
"Sit."
Her gaze dropped as she made her way to the chair and settled gracefully on it.
She allowed her eyes to trace every inch of his face, watching him with keen relish, every subtle shift in his expression analyzed with her haughty eyes.
She was enjoying his misery, the way he sulked, like a child who has lost his mother.
"I have heard from my men that you saw the assassins who took Wimma's life; is that true?" He asked, his voice calm.
She nodded silently, meeting his gaze as best she could.
"Speak to me!" he roared.
"Yes… yes… I did," she admitted, her voice wavering. She was startled by his outburst.
When he sensed the fear in her, he let out a heavy sigh and closed his eyes for a moment.
"I am not in a good mood," he admitted, his voice softer now. "Forgive my way with words."
"You do not have to explain yourself, My Lord. I understand your plight," she interjected quickly.
"She was a good woman; she will be received well in the heavens above."
She added while clasping her hand on her lap.
Kyron's eyelids slammed shut; he felt his head throbbing with a headache.
"Those who did this," she continued softly, "they must pay…and with their lives."
Her voice carried the tone meant to stir sympathy. She lowered her gaze briefly, then lifted it again, as if summoning courage.
"And the gods have made me fortunate enough to recognize where those men came from."
At her words, Kyron's interest was pricked, his attention sharpening.
"Where did they come from, those ruthless barbarians?"
At his question, Lydia struggled not to expose a sly smile that had formed at the corner of her lips.
"They were sent from Decreash!
She shrilled, letting the name hang in the air like a curse.
At first Kyron gazes at her as though she has lost her mind, his eyes burning with intensity at her words.
"Are you sure of what you are saying?" he demanded, his voice low but sharp.
"No doubt, My Lord," she answered, her voice unwavering.
He didn't need to confirm her words for the second time.
Time and again, he had felt the strain between his kingdom and that of Decreash.
The weight of it pressed down on him, heavier than grief, sharper than anger.
He inhaled sharply, the sound echoing softly in the dim chamber, then reclined into his chair, his eyes darkening with a storm of thought and suppressed fury.
"How could he do this? Come after my wife!
He roared, shooting up to his feet.
"Is it not enough that he executed my granddaughter, Katie, for adultery and her mother, Yumi, in the battlefield? "
At his words Lydia's face dropped, and she let out a mournful whimper.
"Avenge them, my lord!
She cried out while wiping invisible tears off her face.
"Ragaleon has had his cup full; it is time he was taught a lesson."
Kyron settled down on the edge of his bed, his weight sinking in, making the wooden but king-sized bed creak.
"He has made his point clear; once and for all, I will put a stop to all this charade. We will end this on the battlefield!