I returned to my chambers, but my mind was restless, drifting from one thought to another. It was the first time my mother had ever mentioned a he. For as long as I could remember, she had never shown interest in any man. Despite her beauty, she always remained distant, untouchable. So who was she talking about?
I was so lost in thought that I didn't notice the mischievous person sitting beside me, watching in silence. The moment I realized he was there, I flinched.
"When did you get here, Michael?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.
"A little while ago," he said casually, his lips curling into a smirk. "You looked deep in thought, so I didn't want to disturb you. Thought I'd just stare at you instead."
"That's not disturbing at all," I muttered, rolling my eyes.
Michael simply grinned and flopped onto my bed, stretching his arms behind his head in that carefree way he always did. "So tell me, Majesty, who's troubling you? Who do you want me to kill?" he asked playfully.
I chuckled. "How about my mother? Think you can kill her?"
He bolted upright, eyes wide. "Say what? The queen? Is that even possible?"
I smirked. "I thought you were supposed to be the strongest in this kingdom. And yet, you can't handle a single woman? Shame on you."
Michael scoffed. "I'm only the strongest because she wasn't part of the ranking." He leaned forward slightly, his playful demeanor dimming just a little. "Seriously though, tell me. What's on your mind? Did Lady Nyxelene do something to you?"
His concerned look made something in me waver. With a sigh, I told him everything.
Michael leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, his brows knitted in thought. "Being Lady Nyxelene's personal guard gave me the chance to observe her up close, but even I don't understand why she treats you this way. It's like she's trapped in her own world, lost in something beyond our reach." His voice was steady, but there was an underlying frustration in his tone.
Michael sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair. "If everything you've told me is true, then we have to leave. Now."
"I'm not going anywhere," I said firmly, my fingers tightening around the edge of the silk blanket draped over my lap.
"What? Why?" He stepped closer, his expression shifting from urgency to confusion. "Majesty, this isn't a game. We need to get you out before it's too late. I'll go with you, so you don't have to be afraid."
I hesitated. I wasn't afraid. That wasn't the reason I refused to leave. Michael had a future here—one filled with promise, power, and a destiny much greater than being my shadow. If he left with me, he would be throwing everything away. I couldn't let that happen.
After a tense moment of back-and-forth, the argument ended with Michael storming out, his boots echoing against the floors. He didn't look back.
It was the first time in a long while we had fought like that.
Ramius sat in his favorite chair, the rich scent of aged wood and old parchment filling the cozy study. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting an amber glow across the room. His sharp, moonlit eyes flickered toward the door as it swung open.
Michael entered with a deep scowl, his shoulders tense. Before he could speak, Ramius smirked. "What happened, son? Did you finally find the balls to propose to the princess?"
Michael shot him a glare but said nothing.
"Come here, come here." Ramius waved him over, wrapping a strong arm around his son's shoulder. He pulled him toward the old wooden table where two glasses of deep red wine sat waiting. "Fill your old man in on every little detail."
Michael exhaled, taking the glass but barely acknowledging it. "I didn't do it, Dad. I didn't tell Majesty how I feel about her."
Ramius took a slow sip of his wine, watching his son over the rim of the glass. "What happened to all the preparation we went through? Don't tell me you lost your nerve at the last second."
Michael shook his head. "No, it's not that. Sigh." He ran a hand down his face, then explained everything—the conversation with Majesty, her refusal to leave, and the argument that followed.
Ramius listened intently, his face unreadable until Michael finished speaking. He set his glass down with a soft clink and leaned back in his chair. "So... the day has finally come."
Michael's eyes narrowed. "You knew this would happen?"
Ramius exhaled, staring into the flames. "Not exactly. But with the way the queen has always treated Majesty, I knew it was only a matter of time before she took direct action. Sooner or later, she was bound to make her move."
Michael sat in silence, gripping his glass as his mind raced. He thought he was prepared for anything, but now, uncertainty clawed at his resolve. And for the first time, he truly feared for Majesty's fate.
Ramius leaned back in his chair, swirling the wine in his glass as he watched his son with a knowing expression. The candlelight flickered, casting long shadows across the room.
"So, tell me, what are you going to do?" he asked, his voice calm but weighted.
Michael let out a short, humorless chuckle. "Kill the queen, maybe?"
Ramius raised a brow, unimpressed. He poured himself another drink, the rich red liquid reflecting the golden glow of the room. "I would advise against that."
Michael leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "If you help me, maybe we might actually pull it off."
Ramius shook his head. "Have you ever wondered why a woman rules this powerful kingdom? It's because she is that capable. Please, don't attempt to take the life of the queen, it's pointless."
Michael sighed, frustration evident in his tightened jaw. "I know she's powerful, but no one has actually seen her fight. It's all just rumors. For all we know, she might not be that strong."
Ramius's grip on his glass tightened slightly. "I have seen her fight once," he admitted, his voice quieter, as if recalling something he'd rather forget. The memory sent a shiver down his spine. "It was a terrifying experience, for both allies and foes alike."
Michael narrowed his eyes, trying to read his father's expression. He had never seen Ramius shaken before. "What do you mean? What did she do?"
Ramius exhaled, setting his glass down. "She didn't just fight, Michael. She dominated. It wasn't just strength—it was something else entirely. Like she wasn't human."
Michael clenched his fists, his frustration bubbling over. "If killing the queen is that difficult, then what am I supposed to do? Just sit back and watch as Majesty suffers?"
Ramius exhaled deeply, rubbing his temple before responding to his son. "You need to help her escape. There's no doubt the queen intends to kill her tomorrow. The best thing you can do is make sure that doesn't happen." He placed his glass down with a quiet clink. "Don't worry, I'll help you."
Michael smirked. "I knew I could count on your old bones. Thanks, old man."
Ramius chuckled, shaking his head. "Are you planning to go with her?"
Michael's expression darkened slightly, his playful demeanor fading. "Yes, I should. If I don't go, who's going to protect her?"
His father sighed, stepping closer and resting a firm hand on his son's shoulder. "You're underestimating Majesty too much. She is Lady Nyxelene's daughter, after all."
Michael frowned. "But she doesn't know Šërēĺįťh. She doesn't have any combat abilities."
Ramius nodded. "I know that, son. But she's not as helpless as you think."
Michael ran a hand through his hair, frustration creeping into his voice. "Still, she won't survive out there alone. I won't let her."
His father regarded him with quiet understanding before asking, "What about your mother? Are you really going to leave without saying goodbye?"
Michael hesitated. He knew his mother. She would never allow this. "I'll leave her to you. If I tell her, we both know she'll fight against it."
Ramius studied his son for a moment, then let out a low chuckle. "You really are just like me when I was young."
Father and son continued their conversation into the night.