I stiffen. My stomach flips.

Oh no.

There’s no time to overthink now. I straighten my gown, square my shoulders, and push the door open with forced confidence.

"Oh, my Lord~ I hope I’m not interrupting."

Wait. My Lord? Was that right? Should I have gone with Your Highness? No, that sounds too formal. Commander? Too rigid. Zagan, dearest heart of my soul? …Okay, absolutely not.

Why does no one write a proper guide on addressing terrifyingly powerful, emotionally constipated warlords?

He barely glances up from the parchment in his hands. "You are."

My confident facade cracks. Rude.

I blink, thrown off, but recover quickly. He’s testing me. He always does. I saunter forward, masking my nerves with a practiced smile.

"I was just feeling lonely…"

Wait. Nope. That sounded painfully desperate. I might as well have said, Hold me, mighty warlord, for I am but a fragile damsel in need of your embrace!

I feel so cringe right now. Can I just evaporate on the spot?

Zagan finally looks up, one eyebrow arched. "And you think I’m the solution to that?"

The sheer lack of enthusiasm in his tone is enough to make me reconsider every choice in my life. But no. I refuse to let him win this easily.

I clear my throat, lifting my chin. "Perhaps a little company wouldn’t hurt?"

With as much grace as I can muster, I move to sit on his desk, but—oh, wonderful—my dress catches. My balance tips, and for one horrifying second, I am flailing.

I manage to stop myself from toppling over, but the damage is done. My dignity? Ruined. My confidence? Hanging on by a thread.

Zagan stares at me, unimpressed.

Fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. I’ve just given the Silent Commandant a front-row seat to my tragic one-woman slapstick performance.

I can feel the heat creeping up my neck, burning all the way to my ears. Play it cool, Thalia. Play. It. Cool.

I quickly straighten, smoothing my dress like I totally meant to do that. "Ahem. As I was saying…"

Nope, nope, I cannot recover from this. I can already see the headline: Lady Thalia’s Grand Seduction Ends in a Gravity-Induced Catastrophe.

Zagan, the heartless man that he is, doesn’t even laugh. He just leans back in his chair, watching me like I’m some strange, mildly amusing creature that just wandered into his office. He just sits there, completely unfazed, as if watching women humiliate themselves in front of him is a daily occurrence. Not even a flicker of amusement in his expression. Honestly? I don’t know what’s worse—the fact that I nearly face-planted on his desk or the fact that he’s not even entertained by my suffering.

At least have the decency to smirk, sir. I did not risk my remaining dignity just to be met with indifference.

I steal a glance at him, half-expecting even the slightest twitch of amusement. Nothing.

Unbelievable.

At this point, I’d take anything. A pity chuckle? A scoff? A blink of acknowledgment? Sir, I nearly died for this interaction. The least you could do is react.

But no, he just leans back in his chair, staring at me with all the interest of a man watching paint dry.

I am going to pass away. Right here. Right now.

My grand attempt at confidence? Shattered. My dignity? Crumbling faster than a stale biscuit. My ability to recover from this? Nonexistent.

Oh, stars above. If embarrassment could kill, I’d already be a cautionary tale.

"He didn’t see that. No one saw that," I lie to myself, smoothing out my gown.

Zagan leans back in his chair, his glimmering galaxy purplish eyes flickering with amusement. "Are you here for a reason, Lady Thalia, or is this just an awkward performance?"

I huff, my pride stinging. "You could at least pretend to be interested!"

He chuckles, the sound deep and unhurried, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. "In what, exactly? Your tragic attempt at seduction?"

I scowl, crossing my arms. "I’ll have you know I’m very desirable."

He props his chin on his hand, watching me. "Oh? Then why are you trying so hard?"

That stops me cold.

Heat creeps up my neck. I look away, fingers gripping my dress. He sees through me too easily. He always does.

I can’t let him see through me.

I force a smirk, standing abruptly. "Fine, if you’re not interested, I won’t waste my charm."

I turn to leave, flipping my hair for dramatic effect.

I don’t make it three steps before his voice stops me.

"If you truly want to stand beside me..."

I pause. My pulse quickens.

Zagan leans forward, candlelight flickering in his nightfall gaze. "You’ll have to prove your worth, as an ally, a partner, or a future queen."

I turn back to him, confusion flickering in my chest.

He stands, his presence towering over me. 

Zagan leans forward, his gaze cutting through me like a blade. His voice is low, even, but it carries the weight of something dangerous—something that makes my stomach twist.

"So you want me to chase the throne?" His tone is laced with something between mockery and disbelief. "You think a few pretty words will make me your pawn?"

He takes a step closer. I don’t move. I can’t.

"Do you have any idea what it takes to rule?" His voice sharpens like the edge of a sword. "You think winning over a town, a city—me—is enough?"

The room feels smaller. The air, heavier.

"Look around you, Lady Thalia. Do you see where I stand? I wasn’t raised in court, whispering schemes behind silk curtains. I was sent to the walls, to the border where enemies don’t play politics—they kill." His jaw tightens, his hands curling into fists. "I’ve spent my life holding this kingdom together, fighting wars others pretend don’t exist." His voice drops, colder now. "Tell me, do you truly believe just anyone can do my job?"

A shiver runs through me. My mind screams at me to stop this, to change the subject, but my mouth refuses to cooperate.

Zagan steps closer, close enough that I can feel the heat of him, the sheer weight of his presence pressing down on me.

"Who do you think you are?" His voice is quieter now, but it only makes it worse. "To believe you can lure me, seduce me, convince me to fight for a crown I neither want nor need?"

My breath catches.

"Do you think if I became king, you could control me?" His lips curl slightly, though it’s anything but a smile. "That I would bow to you? Let you pull my strings like a lovesick fool?" He tilts his head, watching me too closely. "That I would be yours?"

I’m suddenly aware of how foolish I must look, standing here, shaking under his scrutiny. My face burns. I want to run, but my pride refuses to let me.

I square my shoulders, clearing my throat. "I only meant to help."

His expression doesn’t soften. If anything, it sharpens.

"At what cost?" His voice is quiet now, like a knife sliding from its sheath. "Why should I trade my command, my duty, my purpose—for your ambitions?" His eyes narrow. "Why should I fight your battles? To make you queen?"

I’m crumbling. I can feel it.

And then, his voice drops lower, colder—so cold it feels like ice pressing against my skin.

"Are you not afraid of me?"

My breath stills.

"Do you not realize that your time has already run out?" His fingers twitch, and for a terrifying moment, I swear I see a faint, unnatural glow flicker over them. "I could turn you into stone in a snap."

My stomach drops. I swallow hard, my pulse hammering in my ears. My body screams at me to flee, but I stand frozen, caught between terror and something else—something foolish and reckless.

And then, like an absolute idiot, I say it.

"I will take revenge."

Silence.

It takes me a full second to realize the weight of what I’ve just said.

Zagan’s gaze darkens, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Curiosity? Amusement? Suspicion?

I feel the blood drain from my face.

Why did I say that?

His expression shifts, slow and calculating, and I know—I know I’ve made a mistake.

Panic grips me. My feet move before I can think.

I turn on my heel, my voice barely above a whisper. "I’m sorry for wasting your time."

And then I bolt.

___________________To be continued____________________