“Long live His Majesty, King Ashheim Ravenholt!” the royal knights proclaimed in unison, kneeling in solemn reverence before the man draped in heavy golden robes.

Adelissa stood among the high nobility. Her gown, fashioned in the same royal hues, harmonized flawlessly with Ashheim’s attire. Yet there was not a trace of joy in her countenance. The newly anointed queen looked mortally exhausted. Sleepless nights, a glass of poisoned wine caught just in time by a servant, and complete isolation from the outside world had taken a devastating toll. Reports that the Fornweirs had joined Queen Clementine’s forces in the south to raise a rebellion under the deposed Gabriel were breaking her from within.

She barely endured the formal ceremony, slipping away from the hall before the king had even finished receiving the oaths of the lords who remained loyal to the crown.

Casting off her heavy golden train in the corridor, Adelissa entered her new quarters. The spacious hall still felt like a cramped cage, its stone walls pressing against her chest and making it difficult to breathe.

“I shall fetch you a tonic to soothe your nerves, Your Majesty,” Mrs. Lawson said softly, preparing to step out.

“No need...” the queen drew a labored breath. “I only need... a breath of air.”

She stepped onto the balcony overlooking the inner courtyard - the very garden where she and Ashheim had once spent their finest days.

“Lis...” the king said quietly, stepping onto the balcony behind her.

Placing his hands gently on her trembling shoulders, Ashheim struggled to find the right words.

“Adrian, Silvester, Father... Is there still no word from them?” she asked in a barely audible whisper, without turning around.

The king remained silent.

“Will you kill them?”

“No,” Ashheim answered firmly. “If your father surrenders, I will spare House Fornweir. Your brothers and sister will live. You will retain your status. You have my word.”

“I do not care about my status...” she whispered, tears choking her voice.

Ashheim drew his wife close and held her tight, trying to still the subtle tremor racking her body.

“I know. But please... stay with me. I cannot do this without you.”

Flanked by his trusted knights, Ashheim rode in person to the ancestral estate of the Fornweirs. He sought a direct audience without intermediaries, hoping to halt the bloodshed before full-scale war became inevitable.

Yet as they approached the main gates, a black arrow whistled through the air and struck the earth right before the hooves of the king's mount. The horse reared, but Ashheim held the reins with a practiced, steady grip.

“Be warned: cross the boundary of my domain, and I shall have every legal right to take your arrogant head!” the marquis proclaimed, his voice loud and icy.

His face appeared gaunt and drawn, as though he had suffered long under a severe malady, while his usually shrewd eyes were clouded by a terrifying, unnatural sheen.

“Do you come as a petitioner or an invader, Your Highness?” the marquis spat with disdain.

“I come as your king and your daughter’s husband, Valtorius,” Ashheim replied steadfastly, dismounting. “Lay down your arms. Recognize my rule, and I guarantee the safety of your house and the preservation of all your lands.”

Valtorius let out a dry, thunderous laugh - a wild, almost unhinged sound.

“King? Usurper! You have no right to the throne! You stole your brother’s place and expect to be acknowledged out of fear?! Worse yet - you are a monster holding my daughter captive!”

“Adelissa is my lawful wife and queen - ”

“She is your prisoner!” the marquis cut him off, his pupils contracting to unnatural pinpricks for a fleeting second. “You locked her in the palace by force, silencing her with threats! I shall never acknowledge a king who holds my own blood hostage and tramples the laws of our ancestors. Gabriel is the rightful sovereign! House Fornweir will shed its last drop of blood to pull you from that throne!”

Standing behind his father, Silvester tightened his grip on his sword hilt, a shadow of deep doubt crossing his features. His father's blind, feral rage felt foreign and alarming - as though the marquis had genuinely lost his mind. Yet, bound by filial duty, Silvester said nothing, merely deepening his frown and concealing his inner turmoil.

“You are making a fatal mistake, Valtorius,” Ashheim said softly, filled with profound grief, realizing the negotiation was over. “And the price will be far too high.”

The king drew his sword, and his men followed suit.

With trembling fingers, Adrian gently covered Silvester’s blood-drenched face. A gruesome sword slash had disfigured his elder brother's features.

“Take care of my brother,” he whispered softly, closing his brother's remaining eye.

Grabbing a heavy shield emblazoned with the family crest from the rack, he took the stone stairs to the upper tier two at a time. Bursting onto the balcony, Adrian slammed the shield down onto the paved courtyard below, drawing the attention of the royal soldiers attempting to batter down the main doors.

Taking a strip of white cloth, he hung it over the balcony railing and shouted at the top of his lungs, drowning out the din of battle and the crackle of fire.

“House Fornweir surrenders!”

His father was dead. The severed head of Marquis Valtorius had already been spiked at the castle gates. Adrian’s fingers gripped the stone balustrade until his knuckles popped. He fought back the tremors in his body, trying to cling to the last shreds of composure for the sake of those who still lived.

“We surrender...” he repeated, his voice quieter now, hollowed out by grief.

Isaac Grant, who was commanding the breach below among the blood-soaked corpses, slowly raised his sword - red with fresh blood - toward the sky and cheered boisterously across the grounds:

“House Fornweir has fallen!”

Unkempt blonde hair fell messily over her shoulders, her eyes swollen from weeping. She took a step toward her husband, then froze, the question catching in her throat.

“Marquis Fornweir and his heir are dead,” Ashheim said quietly, answering the unasked question. “Your father and eldest brother refused to yield. Adrian has been taken into custody.”

Adelissa felt the ground slip away beneath her feet. Her remaining strength failed her, and she would have collapsed onto the stone floor had Ashheim not caught her in time.

“Forgive me...” the king whispered softly.