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114. A Rotten Drakmont
The morning sun filtered into Asher Blackmoor’s chamber through tall, arched windows. The light fell across stone floors and weathered tapestries, each one bearing the marks of Drakemont's history—battles, beasts, and bloodlines woven into the very fabric of the estate. Heavy furniture carved from ancient darkwood lined the room, polished with care but never stripped of their old-world sharpness. The space was rich, commanding, and steeped in power. A master’s quarters in every sense.Asher stood near the window in his nightrobe, hands folded behind him, posture regal even in stillness. The robe hung loosely, but nothing about him was at ease. His gaze was fixed on the Blackmoor fields that stretched across the horizon—rolling land owned and defended by his family for generations. Acres of strength, legacy, and sacrifice.But his mind wasn’t on the land.His thoughts drifted to the palace. To whispers. To a Queen’s dangerous touch.A knock at the door pulled him back.“Come in,” he sa
113. Beware, Dear Consort
The afternoon light filtered gently through the high lattice windows of the Crown Consort’s quarters, casting golden patterns across the marbled floor. The room was quieter than usual, steeped in a stillness that hinted at secrets soon to be spoken.State Chancellor Sylas sat across from his niece, his posture composed, hands resting calmly on the armrests of the carved wooden chair. A low table stood between them, but no partition veil separated them—as was custom for court women and their male visitors. That rule did not apply here. Sylas was family, and family did not need to be shielded.State Chancellor Sylas leaned slightly in his seat, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His voice came out playful, yet tinged with that ever-calm presence he carried like armor."You always come around me with that frown, my dear consort," he said, eyes glinting softly. "I’ve returned now—after my long sojourn through the cities of Drakemont these past two years. I’m back, and you s
112. Crown Consort Liora
Crown Consort Liora stood quietly in her quarters, tucked away in the eastern wing behind the old stone warehouse. The spot gave her a perfect view—both of the palace grounds and far beyond the outer walls. It was a routine she’d followed for years, one of the few moments where she could steady her breath and silence the noise inside her mind.A breeze swept through the open arches, brushing against her pale blue robe as she stood in silence, arms crossed, lips slightly parted. She looked outward, as always—watching, waiting, observing. Her mind rarely rested.Then, something caught her eye.A shadowed figure, moving near the Queen’s quarters.Something about the silhouette made her breath hitch in her throat.“Eyla,” she said softly, without looking back.Her handmaid was already standing nearby, as always. Loyal. Sharp. Trained to know when her mistress needed something without asking. Without a word, Eyla stepped forward and handed her the long bronze eyeglass Liora often used duri
111. The Queen’s Muse
Queen Ladin kept whispering, confident her voice was working its way into Asher’s mind. She thought she had him—under her spell, within her grasp. She believed she was winning.Until everything changed.Without warning, Asher turned around and grabbed her by the throat, slamming her hard against the wall beside them. The sound of impact echoed sharply through the room.They were suddenly face to face, eyes locked.For a moment, neither moved. Their breathing mingled in the tense silence.Queen Ladin’s fury flared at first, angry at the violent shift in control. She opened her mouth to lash out—but her words caught in her throat. Her eyes widened as they took in his face.“How... beautiful,” she breathed without thinking.It stunned her.Asher’s features were striking. She scanned him—his fierce, clear eyes, his strong nose, the chiseled jawline, the dark hair with a single rebellious strand that had fallen over his forehead.She was mesmerized.She’d seen him from afar before—but neve
110. A Trapped Asher?
“Just my type,” Queen Ladin said, her voice dripping with seduction.There was something about the way she spoke that made Asher’s body react before he could even think. He hated to admit it—even to himself—but her voice sounded sexy. It curled around him like smoke, soft and dangerous.And that irritated him.Why would he think something like that? He must be losing his mind. He knew better than this. Yet, despite all his defenses, he could feel himself slipping. That’s the thing with enchantresses—once they want you under their spell, no matter how strong your will is, you start falling, slowly but surely.And Queen Ladin? He’d already placed her in that category.Maybe this was exactly how she seduced the king. A commoner turned queen overnight, all because she knew how to wrap men around her little finger. He could almost see it now—how easy it must’ve been.Then, snapping out of his thoughts, Asher growled, “Get your hands off me, or you won’t have to use them again.”She froze.
110. The Enchantress
When Asher finally reached the queen’s quarters, the sight of the place made him glance around. The whole place was decorated to match royalty. The walls were decorated with gold patterns while expensive curtains hung by the windows, and the air carried a soft, expensive scent of rare herbs and flowers. Inside the inner chamber, there was a wide vestibule that demarcated the room. In Drakmont, it was tradition that no man, except the ruler, could go past that point. Any male visitor had to stop there and speak without ever seeing the queen’s face. It was a way to show respect and protect the women of the royal family.Asher wasn’t surprised by this. It was normal in Drakmont. But what did surprise him was how quiet the place was. The area was usually busy with guards standing watch and servants moving around, but today it was completely empty. No one guards at the doors. Not even one in the hall. Everywhere was deserted. While he was coming to the quarters, he had asked a few servan
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