Since the very foundation of the Garmanian Empire, these two powerful families had been locked in constant conflict—a rivalry that stretched back centuries, written in blood and broken treaties.
"You know, Master," Judith said quietly, "his magical power is too dangerous."
The divine power inherited by the descendants of the Chartreuse family was bestowed by Gernia herself—pure, protective, unmistakably sacred. However, the terrifyingly vast power possessed by the Benvito line's heirs was of entirely unclear origin. Nothing was known about its source. There were even whispers—spoken only in the safest corners, behind the strongest wards—that this power had risen from the underworld itself.
"Don't you think," Judith pressed, her golden eyes sharp with concern, "that everything happening to Asella right now isn't entirely Adele's design? Perhaps Calix is attempting to control Mariel's awakening power through her sister."
"Perhaps so." Roshan's voice was measured, careful. "Or perhaps not. Who can say with certainty?"
He almost added, *Let's trust Adele's instincts.* But the words died unspoken. Even as he thought them, he recognized that all the evidence pointed toward Judith being right.
"Why do you doubt it?" Judith asked, genuine curiosity breaking through her worry.
The priest paused, his weathered face thoughtful.
Asella's face appeared before his mind's eye. Although so many years had passed since their last encounter that the girl didn't even remember it, Roshan had recognized her without difficulty. Despite having grown into a married woman, her features still carried the delicate echoes of the child she had been.
He had been deeply concerned when he learned her wounds had been inflicted by a demonic beast—such injuries rarely healed cleanly, if they healed at all. But when he had removed the bandages, everything had mended beautifully. His relief had been profound.
But so had his surprise.
*Treated by the Grand Duke himself.*
*That callous and cruel man.*
The revelation had struck Roshan like a hammer blow to the skull. It didn't fit. It didn't make sense. And yet the evidence was undeniable.
"There's no time for doubt now," Judith declared, her voice rising with urgency. "What if the Archduke hands the girls over to the Emperor? We must prevent that at all costs!"
She bit her lip, her perfectly composed expression cracking slightly.
"Yes, I know the Grand Duke and the Emperor are locked in constant rivalry. But who knows what tomorrow might bring? Alliances shift. Enemies become partners when convenient."
"Don't worry so excessively." Roshan's voice was calm, soothing. "I managed to give Asella an artifact capable of opening a portal directly to the Hall of Prophecies. She can always escape here if the need arises."
Judith's amber eyes widened to nearly twice their normal size.
"*Truly?* But how did you manage it? The Grand Duke's eyes and ears are everywhere within those walls!"
"I pretended to drop a sacred object." A slight smile curved the priest's lips at the memory. "When she bent to retrieve it for me, I placed the artifact in her palm. Unfortunately, I couldn't explain how it functions without arousing suspicion."
He met Judith's gaze steadily.
"Don't worry too much, Your Holiness. That girl is doing everything in her power to survive. I could see it in her eyes—the determination, the will to endure. Whatever trials await her, she will not surrender easily."
---
## — Benvito Castle —
> *The handsome prince and his companions boldly set out to find the princess imprisoned in the castle. "I will save you without fail, my princess. Wait for me." And when the sun rose the following morning...*
Asella, who had been reading the story aloud, tilted her head slightly and looked at her sister.
Mariel, who just moments ago had been listening with rapt attention—her eyes bright with excitement, her small body leaning forward in anticipation—was now sleeping peacefully. Her silver lashes lay against her cheeks like tiny feathers, her breathing slow and deep.
"Good night, Mariel."
Asella pressed a gentle kiss to the girl's forehead, then rose quietly from her seat. She set the book aside and moved toward the door, her footsteps careful to avoid waking the child.
As she emerged into the corridor, the guards waiting outside straightened and offered short, polite bows.
"Your Highness. Allow us to escort you to your quarters."
They followed Asella and Mariel relentlessly now—personal shadows that never strayed more than a few paces behind. Even though Asella's chambers were only steps away, escaping their watchful eyes was utterly impossible.
*A luxurious cage,* she reminded herself. *Nothing more.*
She sighed resignedly and nodded her consent.
As she approached the Grand Duchess's apartments, Margot's voice drifted through the partially open door:
"That one on the left isn't bad, but it's far too overloaded with embellishments—quite impractical for sleeping. Let's take the one on the right instead. The colors are more subdued, the material pleasant to the touch, and the embroidery is simply superb."
Asella entered to find Margot and several maids sorting through an impressive array of silk shirts and sleeping garments. Beyond the dressing room, warm humid air wafted from the bathing chamber, where a large tub stood filled to the brim, steam rising gently from its surface.
Noticing Asella's arrival, Margot set aside the nightgown she had been examining and moved to greet her.
"You've returned already, Your Highness."
"Yes, but—"
"You should certainly take a bath. The water is at the perfect temperature."
Asella's expression flickered with uncertainty.
"I believe these maids will serve you excellently." Margot gestured toward two young women who bowed low in acknowledgment. "They possess remarkably gentle hands—Your Highness will be most satisfied. I've also prepared several fragrant oils; you may select whichever appeals to you."
"Select?"
Asella wasn't accustomed to having her body tended by others. She hadn't used a maid for this purpose in years—not since before her mother's death. The scars on her skin had completely vanished now, thanks to the priest's thorough work. But she was still terrified to expose herself to unfamiliar eyes.
*They'll see,* some irrational part of her whispered. *They'll know.*
*Know what?* another part asked. *The marks are gone. There's nothing left to see.*
But the fear remained, lodged deep in her chest like a splinter that couldn't be extracted.
Margot, observing Asella's hesitation, tilted her head slightly.
"Is something troubling you?"
Asella opened her mouth to respond, then found herself suddenly, utterly unable to formulate words. Her voice emerged as barely more than a whisper:
"Lady Roman... I would prefer to bathe alone."
"Indeed?" Margot adjusted her silver-rimmed spectacles, her violet eyes thoughtful. "Perhaps these particular maids don't suit you? We can easily arrange—"
"No. Not at all. That isn't the issue."
"Then why?"
Asella felt heat rising to her cheeks. She couldn't think of a valid excuse. She couldn't explain that she hadn't been properly attended in years. She certainly couldn't describe how her body still felt permanently marked to her own eyes—how she still looked at herself with disgust, despite her skin being flawless now.
The old habit rose unbidden: she bit the inside of her cheek, hard, fighting against the tears that threatened to surface.
But Margot noticed.
The older woman's expression softened almost imperceptibly.
"You don't have to explain," she said gently. "You don't have to answer anything you don't wish to. I was simply concerned that we might have displeased Your Highness in some way."
"That's not true!" Asella shook her head quickly. "You've all been... very kind."
Margot's smile returned, warmer now.
"Very well, then. If you need anything at all, simply summon us through this crystal ball." She indicated a small sphere on the vanity. "We will attend you immediately, at any hour."
"I understand."
Margot provided kind, thorough instructions on operating the various fixtures and fittings in the bathing chamber, then departed with a graceful bow.
---
Finally, Asella was alone.
She turned slowly, taking in her surroundings properly for the first time. Like the bedroom, the bathroom was impossibly luxurious—the kind of space she had only read about in the fairy tales she'd been reading to Mariel.
The high ceiling and central wall were painted with a wondrous night landscape: rolling gardens bathed in moonlight, their paths winding between flowering trees and sculpted hedges. The artfully rendered moon cast silver illumination across the entire scene, so realistic that Asella half-expected to feel a night breeze on her skin.
"Don't worry," Margot had explained earlier, noting Asella's suspicious examination of the beautifully painted glass windows. "No one can see anything from the outside."
The continuation of the mysterious garden scene onto the transparent glass created an incredible illusion of space and depth—as though the walls had vanished entirely, leaving only the enchanted landscape stretching away into darkness.
Still gazing somewhat suspiciously into the depths of the painted garden, Asella decided to trust Margot's assurances. She undressed carefully, her movements slow and uncertain, and stepped into the bath.
Warm water enveloped her immediately, carrying the delicate fragrance of oils and rose petals that floated on the surface. As the pleasant heat surrounded her, her muscles began to release tension she hadn't even realized she was holding. Her body sank deeper into the water, and for a moment—just a moment—she allowed herself to simply *exist*.
*How long will this last?*
The thought surfaced unbidden, cold despite the warmth surrounding her.
Today marked her first full day in the castle. So far, nothing terrible had occurred. But Mariel's birthday approached rapidly. How could she protect her sister when the time came?
Throughout the entire journey from the capital to the principality, she had desperately tried to devise some plan for their survival. But every scenario ended the same way: failure, capture, death.
And now, trapped within these gilded walls, watched every moment by guards and servants loyal only to the Grand Duke—how could she possibly escape this beautiful captivity?
A quiet sigh dissolved into the enveloping steam.
*How long have I been lying here?*
She blinked, suddenly uncertain. She must have drifted longer than intended. The real moon visible through the third-floor window had shifted the width of two fingers since she'd first noticed it.
Asella carefully cleansed her tired, heat-softened body. Then she rinsed away the last traces of soap and oil and climbed from the tub. A slight dizziness washed over her from the extended soak in hot water, but she steadied herself against the marble edge until it passed.
She dried her hair methodically with a soft towel, then examined the nightgown that had been laid out for her—pale silk, delicate as moonlight, softer than anything she had ever owned. Wrapping herself in its comfortable embrace, she headed toward her bedroom.
*Perhaps Margot is still waiting in the sitting room,* she thought. *If so, I should remind her to think of her own rest, not only mine.*
She pushed open the bedroom door—
And froze.
Someone was in her room.
---
## — The Grand Duke's Study —
Calix leaned back against the sofa and crossed his legs, his posture radiating the casual arrogance of a man born to absolute power. It wasn't a particularly polite way to receive the Emperor's envoy.
Calix Benvito didn't care in the slightest.
"Your Highness, Archduke..."
The envoy's voice trembled slightly under the weight of that crimson gaze. The man was clearly uncomfortable. Moreover, the temperature in the room seemed to be dropping steadily, though no window stood open.
Calix knew precisely why this messenger had traveled to the principality. Of course that bastard Fernando needed the antidote.
"Let's dispense with ceremony," Zeke interrupted, his tone deliberately casual. "Tell us quickly what business you bring. Our master recently married, you know. He has far more *interesting* activities awaiting him than listening to imperial complaints."
"*Zeke.*"
The red-haired man's mouth snapped shut under Raizen's murderous glare.
The ambassador recovered his composure with visible effort, offering a polished bow before stepping slightly back.
"I bring a gift from His Imperial Majesty—the Holy Spring." His voice steadied as he fell into the rhythm of formal address. "The Emperor sends it in response to the... gift... Your Highness recently presented to His Majesty."
Calix's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.
*A hint about the poison.*
However, the ambassador seemed oblivious to the subtle shift in atmosphere.
"Please." He gestured to his companion, who stepped forward and opened the lid of a large ornate chest.
Inside lay dozens of silver cases—containers Calix recognized immediately.
Raizen moved forward, selecting one case with practiced efficiency. He opened it, examined the powder within, tested its consistency between his fingers, and nodded confirmation to his master.
*Genuine.*
"His Majesty wished me to convey," the ambassador continued smoothly, "that he is always deeply concerned for Your Highness's health and well-being."
"Oh, *really*."
The sarcastic drawl hung in the air like frost.
The imperial envoy and his accompanying officers stiffened, displeasure flickering across their features. However, they quickly schooled their expressions into careful neutrality.
Calix noticed anyway.
A crooked smile spread across his beautiful face—the expression of a masterwork portrait suddenly animated with cruel amusement.
"Well. I confess myself *somewhat* surprised."
He shifted position, his body now arranged on the sofa like a predatory black panther lounging on a branch—seemingly relaxed, but coiled with lethal potential.
The envoy felt ice spread through his limbs. He and his companions suddenly felt as though they stood defenseless before a beast that might tear out their throats at any moment. The atmosphere had become suffocatingly dangerous.
"So." Calix's voice was silk over steel. "What does His Majesty want in return for his... *concern*?"
It was an incredibly rude response to the Emperor's own attentions. But none of the ambassadors present dared point this out.
Because it was His Majesty who currently occupied the weakest position.
"His Majesty would like to know..." The envoy swallowed visibly. "...the secret of Benvito's potion."
"How amusing."
Calix laughed—a short, sharp sound without warmth.
Zeke burst into open, delighted laughter, making no effort to restrain himself. Even Raizen, standing beside his master with a perfectly expressionless face, narrowed his eyes and drew his brows together slightly.
The messenger did not appreciate this reaction, but he could do nothing except stand in silent mortification.
"*That's* what he asked you to request? The *secret*?"
"Yes, Your Highness. His Majesty instructed me to convey that the Holy Spring should serve as adequate thanks for the... favor... you've shown him."
"*Favor?*"
*What a cunning snake,* Raizen thought, his expression darkening further.
Fernando was such a treacherous man that even his own children distrusted him. It wasn't difficult to deduce that the imperial family knew nothing about the poisoning—Fernando would never reveal such vulnerability, not even to his heirs.
But Calix was a cut above everyone else in this game. And the secret of the Benvito poison was known only to him, as head of the family. If anyone understood the Emperor's true condition, it was likely only his faithful dog, Duncan Lisak.
Therefore, this messenger—ignorant of the true meaning behind his request—could keep his head... for now.
"I don't believe you quite understand what you're asking for." Calix's beautiful lips compressed into a thin, dangerous line.
The ambassador winced at the suddenly threatening tone.
"What I provided to your master," Calix continued, each word precise as a blade, "was not a *favor*."
"Your Highness—what do you mean?"
"It's called a *deal*."