Silas lets out a heavy sigh, leans back in his chair and tilts his head back in exhaustion as he removes his suit coat and rolls up his sleeves to his elbows.

He is supposed to choose someone to rule over Swuybia. It is proving to be a difficult task. As horrible of a person Ruadhan Dinan was, he was a good Ruler. He shouts for his Page who runs immediately in the study not a moment too late.

"Send for Lady Aiken." He is not one for pleasantries, he thinks them a waste of breath. The Page runs back and the two minutes that seem as long as an hour go by, Delyth finally arrives, cursing him in her head and wondering what could be so important that he didn't find it necessary to call for someone else.

"You called, my lord."

"Yes. I would like your input on who you would advise to be the next Ruler of Swuybia." She stares at him, almost losing control of her facial expression. Is this man serious?

Does he not have Captain Jothan as an advisor to...advise? She complains in her head.

"I was never one to be interested in politics until as of late. I would suggest asking Tiarnan Holian," She recommends. She still isn't interested in politics but he doesn't need to know that. He, as well as everyone else, believes she is of Swuybian birth and now her knowledge of the nation is put to the test.

The mere thought of asking her consort anything or being in the same breathing space as him makes his hand twitch.

"I would prefer to ask you." Again, not a request, a command. She bites the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from directing any insulting words at him.

"Filius canis," she mutters under her breath while she nears the desk and turns the papers of the candidates. He pushes his chair back and rounds himself around the table to stand beside her. He looks over her shoulder, making his presence known.

Delyth stops breathing for two seconds but forces herself to relax. "I'm leaning towards Haangi Monaghan. He shows true potential."

Losing sight of herself, Delyth crushes the paper in a ball with Haangi's name on it and throws it in the bin. Silas chuckles genuinely, surprising Delyth. She eyes the way the corner of his eyes wrinkle. His laugh isn't a hearty one but it was deep and almost–almost made her look at him differently.

Catching herself, she looks away and scans through the papers once more. The one person she believes is suitable for the role isn't on the list. She takes a risk and advantage of his fondness to her to put forward his name.

"I would highly recommend Cillian Quaid. He is a Commander, a well respected one at that." She gauges his expression which is flat and unconvinced. So, she adds what she thinks is an important piece of information that would persuade him. "I trained under him."

His eyebrows raise a pint and he gathers the papers and throws them in the bin. "I think we have chosen Swuybian's next Ruler."

It has become on a regular basis that Silas invites Delyth to have dinner with him. Each time she becomes more uncomfortable. Each time Tiarnan's heart burns in blinded jealousy. He has to convince himself that Silas is walking into a trap that he set himself by becoming familiar with Delyth but it doesn't hurt him less to have to see them be close.

It also doesn't help that they hardly have the time to talk or see each other because Silas tries to separate them at every opportunity he knows the two will be together.

Today is no different.

Once again, Silas extends an invitation to eat dinner with him. 'Invitation' is a loose term for him abusing his power and forcing her to eat. The last time they ate together was two days prior when he agreed to appoint Cillian Quaid as the next Ruler of Swuybia.

She sits in the peripheral vision of the glowering Captain Kersey. She taunts him by sticking her tongue at him childishly then checking if Silas saw. He didn't. Jothan cuts his eyes at her and looks in the opposite direction of her. She chuckles under her breath and avoids eye contact with Silas.

"How has your stay been so far, Pulchra? Are you comfortable?" He asks. Delyth looks at him because she is confused by how genuinely curious he sounds. Her brow twitches at the irritating name he calls her.

"As comfortable as one can be, my lord."

"That is not a yes. If there is something or someone that is making your stay here less than up to par, feel free to tell me." He put his eating utensils down, awaiting to hear what trouble she is having so he can find a solution to it.

She looks to where Jothan is standing to see he is just as confused as she. She doesn't know much about Silas because in Naelund, it was a silent rule to not speak of him because the mere thought of him harbors bad energy. However, based on, Jothan's mannerism, this is uncharacteristic behavior for Silas.

"Yes, I am very comfortable." She pauses and swallows the bile that threatens to come up from her stomach before continuing. "Thank you, my lord."

The next sentence that leaves Silas's mouth results in a choking guard. "You don't need to address me as 'my lord'. It's redundant."

A shocked Jothan looks over to the left of him at Zadok whose eyes are as wide as saucers. The two could not believe their eyes. Zadok runs his hand over his mouth, completely taken aback. King Silas Casteron always made a point to remind someone of his position as King whenever they were out of line.

Yet, the man at the dinner table, sitting in front of a beautiful woman who can hardly stand to look at him, would prefer him to not address him by his title. Zadok bends his head to look through one of the far windows to see if something was falling from the sky.

He shakes his head in slight disappointment when he discovers the sky is clear and blue like Devil's Run.

Noticing she offers him no response, he tries another conversation starter. It becomes a task for him every day to either see her eyes especially when they turn a hazel color when the sun hits her face. Or he tries to hear her voice. It's a neutral sound that is calm like a still breeze. He likes everything about her.

"What do you think of Varusa?" He questions. She wipes her mouth with a napkin and swallows her food slowly, deliberately testing his patience. Zadok and Jothan notice this and exchange a look.

"I like her," Zadok mouths and Jothan shakes his head at him, resuming to watch the scene in front of them with amusement.

"I haven't had the pleasure of exploring it, my lord." No one misses the emphasis she puts on his title. She would be damned if she ever addressed him by his birth name. It would seem too personal for her to do that. A proud smile—minuscule as it may be—passes Tiarnan's lips.

"Well, that is a shame. You need to be familiar with the people and the splendor of our nation. For that, I will be your escort this week." The grip on her fork loosens as she stares down at her plate.

Tiarnan isn't in her line of vision, so she can't see the look on his face but she feels the intensity. Or that could be the severity of all the eyes in the room, awaiting her response. She purses her lips, feigning thought.

"Are either Captain Kersey or Commander Toule too busy to take on that responsibility?" Zadok grimaces, almost as if he was on the receiving end of her bold question. Delyth made it known to Silas and everyone bearing witness that his presence brings her discomfort.

Silas recognizes her not so subtle message, hence his throat shifts. "What better way to get the full experience than with me, the King, as your escort?"

Jothan nods his head at how well Silas ignores the question and stresses the fact that he will escort her through Varusa and no one else. Tiarnan grinds his teeth together so hard that his jaw might break due to the force.

Silas is stuck in his study and Jothan is in the village doing whatever Captain duties assigned him. This gives Tiarnan opportune time to finally speak with Delyth alone. He scans the hall once more before he grabs her by the elbow and pulls her in the library.

He places his hand on her waist, pulls her against him and ducks his head in the crook of her neck as he feverishly presses kisses along her neck. Her head falls to the side on instinct, exposing her neck to him. The more this went on for—as good as it felt—something didn't feel right.

She presses her hand against his chest and pushes him away from her. "Tiarnan, stop."

He abruptly stops and turns away from her, running his hand through his head. She approaches him and places her hand on his shoulder, as a result he spins around to face her and her hand falls from his shoulder. She bites her lips in embarrassment and focuses on how red his face is due to obvious rage for unclear reasons.

"Tiarnan, what's wrong?" She asks in a tender voice, her short fingernails stroking the linen tunic.

"You and..." He makes a disgusted face. "Silas Casteron are my problem. Him trying to take you away from me is my problem. He wants to be your personal escort around Varusa. I love you, Delyth but I am terrified of losing you. I refuse to lose the one good thing in my life to some psychopath. I just feel..."

She cups his face in the palm of her hands and leans their foreheads against each other. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere." She shows him the ring around her neck. "As long as this is around my neck, I am still yours. You won't lose me. I love you."

"You didn't see what I saw. It's almost like you were warming up to him. But I do hope you're not because the day that happens, I'm killing him myself." He places a gentle and lingering kiss on her cheek and leaves the room. Delyth stands there with an aching heart, wondering if that's what is happening. Is what she thinks is disgust towards Silas is her being in denial of feeling empathy for him?

No, she thinks, shaking the intrusive thoughts from her head.

He ignores others' feelings to get what he wants. He killed her parents. Because of whatever reason she's unclear of—presumably power—, he turned the blue skies black and the clean air turned ashy. She can still feel her chest constricting from that day due to the fire.

She has no empathy for a murderer and psychopath.

Later that night as she lay flat on her stomach and her head face down in her soft pillow, hot tears streaming down her cheeks and soaking the pillow. She cries in fear for her relationship. She cries in vexation at Silas.

The plan was clear. Train. Get to Varusa. Earn Silas's trust. Kill him.

Instead, she fell in love 🗹

Became a Dame 🗹

Got to Varusa with Tiarnan as her consort 🗹

Sacrificed her relationship 🗹

Quickly earning Silas's trust 🗹

The plan is becoming blurred with Tiarnan added to the equation because her focus has strayed from Silas to the consequences her relationship will suffer with each step she takes. The logical thing would be to either end her relationship with Tiarnan, kill Silas and ask Tiarnan for a second chance or scratch the plan all together and live happily with Tiarnan without the heavy burden of avenging her parents weighing on her shoulders.

The decision is not as simple as it may seem. She can either choose to lose Tiarnan forever or she can disappoint herself and all of this hard work would've been for nothing.

A heavy knock sounds on the other side of the door. With a croaky voice, she tells the person to come in.

"Give me a name." The deep, gravelly voice of Silas commands as he stands on the end of her bed. She turns to her side to look at him, moving her hair from her face that is wet with tears, lashes stuck to her eyelids and eye swollen.

"I need the name of the bastard who caused you tears, Pulchra." His fists tight in a ball at his sides.

"Silas Casteron." She declares, firmly.

He steps away as though she pushed him with great force. His brows creased in a 'V' shape, clear confusion written across his face. She wipes her face and climbs off the bed to stand in front of him.

Before speaking, she clears her throat. "You are the cause. I know not what your intentions are but you need to stop this instant. You know that my consort is my fiance but you care not. Still you try to keep us apart. No more. I can be the renowned Lady Aiken but at the end of the day, I need to know that I can also be his. His Delyth. Balance is what they call it."

The pregnant pause lasts too long for Delyth's liking and she steps forward, getting a little too close to him. "I need your word that I am allowed to be both persons."

He peers down at her, staring down into the brown eyes that have darkened due to anger and unhappiness caused by him. Strangely, he even ignores the light blue nightgown and how small her busts are in them, not exposing any cleavage.

Him.

It is a foreign feeling to him. The sword that is lodged in his chest. He ignores the pain from said metaphorical sword because nothing kills more than the thought that he is the reason she was crying. He forgot the reason he came to her room. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe he wanted to wish her a good night. Now his night won't be a good one. He will be haunted by her tears.

"You have my word."

19/07/22

Au revoir...

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