Saint sat in his chamber, his breathing slow and controlled. His body had endured the torment of poison, a cruel enemy that had drained him of his strength and left him vulnerable. But time had passed, and now, his body was healing. He could feel his muscles regaining their power, the sharpness returning to his reflexes. Steward had been right. "You will recover," Steward had assured him, standing by his bedside when he had been at his weakest. "Your body is strong, stronger than you even realize. It won’t betray you." Saint had doubted it then. The poison had felt like fire in his veins, his limbs sluggish, his vision blurred. He had struggled to move, let alone fight. But now, as he flexed his fingers and stretched his arms, he knew Steward had spoken the truth. He was not only recovering—he was growing stronger. Still, something about the experience unsettled him. The poison had nearly taken him down, and for the first time in a long time, he had felt powerless. He hated

Sayid had never been on time to any event before, so it was unlikely that he would get to the imperial building at the time he had been invited to come. But he wanted to make sure that he got to the imperial building in time and by all means. The grand hall of Saint’s estate was lit by the warm glow of lanterns, casting long shadows against the ornate wooden walls. The scent of roasted meat and exotic spices filled the air, promising a meal fit for warriors. At the head of the large dining table, Saint sat, waiting. His expression was calm, but his golden eyes held a sharpness that never faded. Sayid, the most powerful student in the martial world, had become his loyal subordinate—a surprising turn of events that no one had seen coming. Sayid was notorious for his arrogance, his stubbornness, and, above all, his inability to arrive on time for anything. But tonight was different. Saint had invited him to dinner, and Sayid was determined to make an impression that he was punctual

The tension in the air was thick with a quiet electricity that neither Saint nor Victoria could ignore.Victoria’s arms were wrapped around Saint, her grip tight as if afraid that if she let go, he would vanish. She hadn’t planned to hold him—not like this—but the moment she stepped into his presence, her emotions had overwhelmed her.Saint who usually composed and unreadable, had been momentarily lost in the warmth of her embrace. His mind had gone blank, caught in the delicate balance between nostalgia and the sharp pain of betrayal.Then, a deep, authoritative voice shattered the moment.“Saint, who is this?”Saint stiffened. The trance he had been in instantly broke as he turned toward the voice. His uncle, Lord Magnus, stood in the doorway, his sharp eyes fixed on Victoria with curiosity and suspicion. Dressed in his usual dark robes, Magnus carried himself with the silent dominance of a seasoned warrior, his aura commanding respect even without effort.Victoria quickly stepped b

"Father, I don't think I want to talk about this right now." Victoria said as she took off her jacket, trying to mask her troubled heart.She knew she should have not have shown up there—she should not have listened to her father when he told her that it would be easy for Saint to take her back. She should not have believed him when he told her that Saint still had a soft spot for her and because of that, their plans would be made easy. "Victoria, quit acting like a child and tell me what happened!" Lord Zlate instructed. "Father, I'll talk when I feel like it, right now, I need to go sleep." Victoria insisted, trying to make her way up to her room. She didn't want to recount the event that had happened back at the Dragon clan and how Saint and been surprised at first to see her. "Quit your folly and tell me what transpired between you and him. I need to know of it was a success so we can proceed with our other plans.""A success you say?" Victoria started, her ears tingling at t

It wasn't time to celebrate yet but Lord Magnus had taken it upon himself to organise a small feast for Saint's recent victories. He made sure that everything had been put in place just in time for the party, and he didn't bother informing Saint about his plans and just went ahead to throw the party on behalf of Saint. The hall of the Dragon Clan stronghold was alive with the sound of celebration. Torches burned brightly along the stone walls, casting flickering shadows over the long wooden tables laden with food and drink. The scent of roasted meats, spiced wine, and fresh bread filled the air, mingling with the laughter and voices of warriors who had fought and bled for victory.Saint sat at the head of the grand table, his fingers idly tapping against the goblet of wine before him. He had never been one for unnecessary celebrations, but his uncle had insisted. After all, they had just crushed two of the six clans standing in their way. The power balance of the land had shifted dr