The sound of sexual moans could be heard coming from William's chamber; he was at it again, banging one of his many concubines.
The chestnut-haired woman he was banging seemed to be feeling more pain than pleasure; the only person groaning out of pleasure was William, but the woman was simply traumatized.
He was manhandling her body, his nails scratching and leaving faint redness on her skin. Her breast throbbed with pain from squeezing; she was literally crying in pain.
Suddenly the door swung open, and Leah stepped in, her aura pressed into the room like a sudden storm. The hinges of the door groaned in protest, and for a breath the chamber seemed to fall silent, as if even the air had recoiled at her intrusion.
William stopped banging the chestnut-haired lady and tilted his head backwards. When he saw it was Leah, he jerked off, pulling out of the woman, and concubine sighed in relief.
He used the bedsheet to quickly cover his nakedness; his tanned skin glistened with sweat, and his breath was unsteady.
"Have you lost your mind?!
He said with a gruff voice, running his hand through his dark hair.
Leah inched forward; her steps echoed deliberate and slow.
Each click of her shoes against the marble floor cracked through the stillness like a gunshot. The sound reverberated off the cold stone walls, commanding attention with every strike.
Her perfume—rich, dark, and strangely intoxicating—drifted in after her, curling into the corners of the room. It was not merely a scent but an announcement, lingering like a hand pressing against the throat.
She walked in like she owned the room, each step measured. A black cape draped over her shoulders, swallowing her figure in darkness, the hem whispering against the floor.
"Put yourself together, brother, and get dressed; we have somewhere to be." She said nonchalantly.
Her face was hidden in the darkness of the hood of the black cape; a few strands of violet hair slipped free, catching a soft gleam of candlelight.
As she walked past an oil lamp, a fleeting side view of her face revealed itself—a pale cheekbone, the edge of her lips. Her eyes held no spark, no glimmer of warmth, only a dull stillness that spoke of something broken deep within.
"Get out!
William groaned, reaching out for the robe on his bed.
He was referring to Leah, but her silence made him repeat himself.
"Did you not hear what I just said?!
He said, raising his gaze, his eyes locked with hers. Her eyes were hollow; to meet them was to feel a shiver crawl across the skin, as though staring into a soul that had died but refused to close its gaze.
Leah turned to look at the concubine on the bed.
"He is talking to you."
She said calmly; the concubine was a bit stunned. Obviously William was talking to Leah.
The atmosphere was a bit tense, but Leah was relaxed, both hands crossed in front of her elegantly. She watched the concubine leave before turning to her brother.
"You will not talk to me like that again in front of a whore, or anybody else for that matter."
Her voice was icy, each word leaving her lips like hot steel melting. It carried no warmth, only the steady weight of command that pressed into the air.
"You barged into my room; courtesy demands that you knock!
William said, looking frustrated; however, Leah was the least bothered.
"You're right, I should have knocked."
She said it and then threw a black cloak at him, and he caught it midair, creasing his brows at the same time.
"Change into that and meet me at the bottom of the tunnel."
She said, turning around, she started taking her leave.
"I am not going anywhere until you apologize, you hateful brat!
William's tongue burned hot with curses; he had never seen this side of Leah before. It was half-familiar, a new side he had chosen not to take notice of.
"Don't take too long; I will be waiting for you."
Her words were low, steady, and deadly cold, carrying a sovereignty that pressed into the air long after they were spoken.
Without another glance, she turned, the sweep of her black cape trailing behind as she moved. Her steps echoed once more before the door shut with a heavy finality, leaving the room colder than before, as though she had taken the warmth with her.
William stood frozen for a moment, jaw tight, the echo of her words gnawing at him. Then frustration burst through his composure—he ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it, and smacked his lips in annoyance.
Leah was now walking through a narrow tunnel carved from ancient stone. The air was damp and cool, carrying the scent of moss and dust, every sound swallowed by the thick silence. Shadows clung to the walls like watchful spirits.
In her hand she held a lamp, its flame steady within the glass. The glow spilled across her face, no longer hidden by the hood. Her features, striking and beautiful, were now laid bare in the trembling light.
Violet strands of hair caught the glow, gleaming like threads of amethyst, while her eyes—cold, hollow, and near lifeless—stared ahead with a chilling calm.
The light stretched down the tunnel, only to be devoured by the dark after a few feet. It was enough to see the slick stones beneath her shoes.
She stood there in silence, holding her ground as though she were part of the tunnel itself, unmovable, inevitable. She reclined on the walls, waiting… eyes constantly flickering to the beginning of the tunnel.
Minutes dragged on, each one slower than the last. The flame of the lamp flickered faintly, casting restless shadows along the damp walls. She stood still, her breath measured, her eyes locked on the black stretch of tunnel ahead.
But no sign of him.
The silence pressed heavier with every heartbeat, as though the tunnel itself mocked her patience. Her fingers tightened on the lamp's handle, knuckles pale, before she finally exhaled a quiet, frustrated sigh.
Weary, she lowered her gaze, the aura of command that had filled the chamber earlier now edged with a thin trace of exhaustion. She turned, her cape brushing against the stone, violet hair catching the lamplight as she moved.
She had waited long enough.
Leah turned around to leave; she had already taken some steps forward when a faint sound reached her ears.
Footsteps!
They echoed from the far end of the tunnel, steady but distant, like a heartbeat pulsing through the stone walls.
She froze where she stood, her breath etched. Slowly, deliberately, she turned. The cape shifted with her motion, its folds dragging across the floor.
Raising the lamp, she held it high, the glass glowing like a small sun in the suffocating dark.
The light reached only so far, painting the tunnel with its soft glow. Beyond that glow, the footsteps grew louder—approaching, measured, and unhurried.
Her eyes, cold and unblinking, fixed on the darkness ahead.
William came into view. The lamplight radiated on him, first at the edge of his boots, the hem of a cloak, and the faint gleam of fabric.
Then his face, familiar yet shadowed by the dim glow. He was all dressed up, his dark hair slipped backwards, and his piercing dark gaze was fixed on his sister, but with a certain arrogance.
The cloak Leah had given him hung lazily across his shoulders, draped without care, as though it were no more than a burden.
The contrast stung; he appeared indifferent, almost mocking, his very gait suggesting he had come at his leisure rather than at her command. He had taken his sweet time, getting all dressed…for what?!
"I need you to be an escort, not to ensnare the ladies; put on the cloak."
Leah said, and William scoffed.
"I am not coming with you."
Leah, who was already walking away, froze in her steps.
"Unless what? I apologize?
She arched her brows, her tone laced with sarcasm.
He didn't answer.
She turned around, her violet hair swaying and slapping against her back. He was right there, his hands crossed on his chest, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Where is the little girl that loves to keep the rules? You have grown wild, Leah."
He said, and she rolled her eyes.
"It runs in our blood, breaking rules. Don't judge me; you are the worst!
"At least I don't hide it! You don't see me sneaking around and then smiling innocently in front of Mother, like some kind of saint." William growled.
Leah sighed, then smacked her lips.
"You know what? You win; you are right, I am two-faced. Happy?
She said, throwing her hands in the air.
I came to convince you to change your mind; obviously you are bent on sneaking out of the castle. I want nothing to do with this."
He said that and then turned around to leave.
Leah snarled.
"You got all dressed up just to walk away at the end? Oh please!
She mocked, but he kept walking away.
"William, you know you also want this; why are you being difficult?"
Still no answer.
"Okay, fine! I am sorry."
The words cut through the tunnel, trembling as they left her lips. Gone was the icy poise and the mask of indifference. For the first time that night, her voice carried something raw—something almost human.
She stood rooted, her lamp trembling faintly in her hand, the golden glow spilling across her face.
"If you don't get me out of this castle, I might lose my mind."
She admitted it genuinely, and William paused in his tracks. He turned around and began to make his way to her, one of his hands crossed behind his back.
The other tossing a coin nonchalantly. The metallic clink echoed against the damp stone walls with each casual flick of his thumb, as though the darkness itself bent to his stride.
The ruthless scar line down the left side of his face, running from the arch of his brow to the edge of his lower eyelid, made his gaze alluring and ominous at the same time.
Ever since he had survived the war, Ragaleon had pushed him; something had changed in him, and it was only now that Leah seemed to have realized this.
He closed the space between them in a single step, his presence overwhelming, his shadow swallowing hers. Tilting his head, he lowered his face until she could see the scar up close, every jagged memory carved into it. His voice dropped, low and edged like a blade.
"The next time you badge into my room like that," he murmured, his breath grazing her skin, "I won't be so easy on you."
She met his gaze, refusing to waver. A slow nod followed, though a flicker of rebellion sparked in her eyes.
Taking a step back, she finally turned away.
"Understood."