Shadow
Chapter 12
Split of the Crown (3)
Isolde
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Asma gasped aloud in the dark, empty corridor, then dashed through the hallways in panic until she reached the King’s private chamber. She knocked frantically—then burst in without waiting!
Shadow sat beside the window, his heavy royal coat set aside, the top buttons of his shirt undone, his tie draped carelessly over the armrest.
He looked up in shock.
Asma was breathless. “I’m so sorry!!! Please forgive me!!!” she shouted.
Shadow rose from his seat, startled. “What?”
She hurried forward and bowed deeply, wringing her hands in clumsy desperation.
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to insult your mother’s portrait! I swear, I didn’t know— I thought she was just a noble lady! I was nervous! The words just slipped out!”
Shadow stared at her in disbelief for several seconds. Then suddenly, he raised his hand to his face, torn between anger and a laugh he could barely contain.
He struggled to keep his composure and muttered hoarsely, “My… mother?”
He took two quick steps toward her, gripping her arm tightly—so tightly that she froze, her heartbeat loud enough for him to hear.
His eyes blazed with fury. “That… that isn’t my mother, you fool! It’s—” He stopped mid-sentence, took a deep breath as if the name itself pained him. “…None of your concern.”
Asma blinked in confusion, then forced a nervous smile. “Oh… then your aunt?”
Shadow exhaled sharply, releasing her arm with an abrupt motion and turning his back to her.
“I just thought she was your mother… because she looks so much like you. She’s beautiful,” Asma said, stepping back, flustered yet still determined to apologize.
“I swear I’ll never raise my fingers at her portrait again! Unless—well, unless she starts it first!” she added awkwardly.
Shadow sank back into
his chair, turning away. He leaned his head against the seat and gazed up at
the ceiling, eyes closing slowly. His voice came calm—too calm.
“Go… Just don’t repeat this ever again.”
Asma nodded and backed away quietly, closing the door behind her.
Shadow whispered to
himself, his tone bitter and hollow:
“My eternal punishment… to be bound to that creature.”
…….
Asma walked down the
long, suffocating corridor again. Her eyes caught the portrait, and she
murmured under her breath,
“What’s wrong with him? I only said she’s beautiful… Did I offend him?”
At that moment, the far door of the royal quarters opened.
Prince Ivan walked in quietly, holding a stack of documents meant for the King’s signature. As he spotted the Queen, he cleared his throat loudly so she would fix her headscarf.
He approached her
leisurely, hands behind his back, and said with a teasing smile,
“Your Majesty! What brings you here at this late hour? Did His Majesty
finally summon you to spend the night in his quarters?”
Asma gave him a dry
look.
“What nonsense are you spouting? He nearly exploded on me just moments ago!”
Ivan blinked, amused. “Really? That wasn’t part of the plan! But wait—why would Shadow be angry with you? He’s usually so composed around you! Could it be because of what happened at the council earlier? Odd—he doesn’t see that as your fault at all. If anyone’s to blame for your poor manners, it’s me! Hahaha!”
Asma rolled her eyes.
“You seem to be enjoying this.”
“Of course! Hahaha… You’re a walking disaster, Your Majesty!” he grinned.
Asma smiled faintly but her eyes lingered on the portrait, filled with confusion—and something else.
Ivan followed her gaze, and realization dawned. He chuckled, whispering slyly,
“The portrait? Is that what caused the problem, Your Majesty?”
Asma snapped out of her daze. “Yes! And I think his reaction was way too much! I didn’t mean to insult his mother or aunt or whoever that woman is! I just said she’s beautiful—she looks like him! And all I did was raise my middle finger at her! Maybe said a few bad words…”
Ivan burst into loud laughter, nearly doubling over. His laugh echoed through the royal corridor, utterly unfit for such a solemn place.
“What? You too? What’s so funny about that?”
Still laughing, Ivan leaned close, his grin growing wicked. “Oh-ho-ho… It’s still too early for you to know this, but fate seems to be on your side! Thanks God… hohoho!”
“What are you talking about?” she asked, utterly lost.
He whispered, voice dripping with mischief, “Want to know a little secret? That woman in the painting isn’t his mother, as you thought. Her name is Isolde. She was his fiancée… and his first love.”
Asma froze, her smile
vanishing. She looked back at the portrait, eyes narrowing.
“Isenold… or Desmond… or whatever stupid name,” she muttered coldly.
Ivan nearly collapsed laughing, clutching his stomach. “Hahaha! You can’t even pronounce her name right! This is brilliant!”
Asma didn’t join him. Her face hardened, arms crossing. She looked back at the portrait and thought silently, she was noble, graceful, from his world… and I? Just a commoner, chaotic, lacking any grace. How could he ever compare us?
She raised her head
and asked, “So… did she die? Is he grieving and living in her memory?”
Ivan fell silent for a moment. His laughter faded, replaced by a heavy
stillness.
“…Yes, Your Majesty, Isolde is dead.”
Asma furrowed her brows and looked away with an indifferent expression, as though the last glimmer of hope had just vanished.
Ivan hesitated, then
suddenly blurted out what he shouldn’t have said.
“…But! My Queen! It’s not what you think! Shadow killed her himself—her and
her son!”
“What?! He killed his own son? Wait! Didn’t you say she was his fiancée?” Asma’s voice rose in disbelief. “So, he’s… a womanizer? He had an illegitimate child and then got rid of both her and the boy? What a disgusting man!”
“No, no—you’ve got it all wrong, Your Majesty!” Ivan waved his hands frantically. “Isolde—Isolde von Valoris—was the traitor! Shadow was the victim! She betrayed him with his cousin and closest friend, Cassius von Dryden! She bore a bastard child, then they destroyed Shadow’s entire family and murdered him in cold blood after taking all his possessions and seizing the great kingdom of Falcon for themselves!”
Asma’s eyes widened
in astonishment.
“So how did he survive? I mean… what happened next? Did he come back and
kill them?”
“Yes, Your Majesty!” Ivan’s tone turned grave. “But only after his form changed—right before he took his last breath on the battlefield. My late father, King Asrahan, aided him. Shadow transformed from a noble human into a Dark Shade, which hastened his recovery. Then he returned… and annihilated the entire Valoris bloodline—including Isolde and Cassius.”
Asma closed her eyes, struggling to process what she’d just heard. When she finally reopened them, her gaze returned slowly to the portrait on the wall…
She raised her chin, forcing a smirk. “Fine then. Let him keep her portrait—may it remind him of her betrayal. At least I won’t stab that fool in the back.”
Ivan blinked in surprise, then smiled faintly. Maybe, just maybe, he sensed that behind her sarcasm, something deeper had begun to take root.
…
After the Queen left,
Ivan entered the King’s chamber, holding the documents.
“Seems His Majesty’s still awake this late at night.”
Shadow was still sitting beside the window, the moonlight outlining his sharp, flawless features.
Shadow glanced sideways. “And it seems the prince is awake too… Though I suppose it’s work keeping you up—not thoughts of Ivanka, for once.”
Ivan scoffed. “What do you take me for? Of course not! Hohoho!”
Shadow chuckled while arranging the papers. “No, you’re not just a fool, Ivan… you’re an idiot.”
Ivan narrowed his eyes playfully. “You know, Shadow… you might be even dumber than you think.”
Shadow raised an eyebrow. “Meaning?”
Feigning innocence, Ivan grinned. “Asma called you handsome. She was flirting, and you didn’t even notice! Imagine—the mighty King of Darkness, King of Norton himself, completely oblivious to when a woman flirts with him!”
Shadow froze. In his
mind, Asma’s voice echoed:
“She looks like you… she’s beautiful.”
His eyes widened. His
expression stiffened. He turned toward Ivan, a deadly glare in his eyes.
“Ivan…” he growled.
Ivan raised his hands mockingly. “What? I’m just saying—she sees something in you that you clearly don’t see in yourself!”
Shadow scoffed. “As if I care. Many women have admired my face before. What difference does it make? If she does, she’s just another fool enamored by the face of her killer.”
Ivan sighed. “Told you—you’re an idiot.”
Shadow didn’t respond. He turned his back, busying himself with the papers.
“Good night, Your Majesty,” Ivan said finally. “See you tomorrow at the council meeting.”
He left quietly, closing the door behind him.
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