The morning sun cast a golden hue across the courtyard, glinting off the polished barrel of a rifle in Lord Gabriel Flynn's steady hands. His stance was sharp, his gaze locked onto the sky.
"Ready?" called a palace guard.
Gabriel gave a curt nod.
A bird was released into the air, its wings flapping frantically, then came the crack of the rifle. A heartbeat later, the creature tumbled lifelessly to the ground.
Without a word, Gabriel opened the barrel, slid in fresh rounds, and snapped it shut with precision. His focus didn't waver, even as Silas approached from behind.
"You summoned me, my lord?" Silas bowed slightly.
Gabriel didn't glance his way. "There's talk spreading through the palace," he said, checking the aim of his rifle once more. "A rather disturbing tale, if I must say."
"If you've already heard it," Silas replied smoothly, "why trouble yourself to ask me?"
Gabriel finally turned to him, gaze cool. "Because unlike others, I don't indulge in whispers. I prefer the truth from its source."
He lifted the rifle again, took aim, and fired. Another shot, another flawless hit.
Silas straightened his coat. "Then allow me to confirm it. Whatever you've heard, it's true."
Gabriel handed the weapon to a waiting attendant. "Send word to His Majesty. Tell him I request an immediate audience. It's urgent."
Without waiting for acknowledgment, Gabriel strode out of the courtyard, his coat billowing behind him.
Back in the emperor's chambers, Lola sat alone, her thoughts a tangled mess. The emperor had departed abruptly at Lord Flynn's request, the matter apparently, too sensitive to be discussed in her presence.
"If it concerns me," she muttered, rising from the bed, "then why am I not allowed to hear it?"
She paused by the window, debating whether to sneak toward the study. But such behavior was unbefitting a lady, and Xander would never let her hear the end of it if she were caught eavesdropping. Sighing in resignation, she pulled on her robe and headed instead toward the resting room.
Laughter echoed from within. Emily sat by the firepit, knitting with her usual delicate grace, while the others lounged nearby.
"It was truly a spectacle," Julian laughed, shaking his head. "The way he tripped over his own ego was priceless."
The door creaked open, and Lola stepped inside.
"I've made a decision," she declared, her voice confident.
The room fell quiet.
Julian raised a brow. "And what, pray tell, have you decided?"
Lola crossed her arms. "I've decided I shan't spend another day sulking or grumbling about His Majesty."
"Oh?" Emily blinked.
"I'm going to enjoy myself instead. If the emperor wishes for amusement, then amusement he shall receive. I'll give him a taste of the kind of fun he won't soon forget."
A pause followed. The room, once filled with laughter, now brimmed with uncertainty.
"What exactly are you planning?" Ethan asked warily, leaning forward.
Lola only smiled, tilting her head innocently. "You'll see soon enough."
"Oh heavens," Emily sighed, setting down her knitting. "I only hope this doesn't land us all in the dungeon."
Liam exchanged glances with Julian. "She has that look again."
"The last time she had that look, the west wing nearly caught fire," Julian murmured.
Lola curtsied dramatically. "This time, I promise not to burn anything. Just… hearts."