Then I snapped back to reality. The hall was the same. The torches, the banners, my father on the throne, my mother at his side. Like nothing had happened.
"Hahaha… Princess Seraphina," Mordred spread his arms. "Your heart was mine from the start. You only needed the courage to admit it."
He clapped his hands near his ear. The doors opened, and his servants walked in, one after another. They came in a line, each holding a plate heavy with gold, jewels, silks, and every kind of riches.
I watched it all. His name was fitting — Prince of Greed. It was like he thought he could buy me with jewels and coins.
I looked at his eyes. I saw it. The lust for me. The greed to own me at any cost.
Very well, I thought. I shall use you. I shall use your greed, your riches, and your power to build my path to revenge.
You will become the wall I climb. And through you, I will reach the Prince of War.
My father slammed his fist on the armrest of the throne.
"What is the meaning of this, Prince Mordred?" My father said. His voice was sharp.
He stood from his throne, his cloak sliding down his shoulder as he moved.
Mordred only grinned. "King Aurelius, consider this a gift," he said. "This marriage should be grand. I would not want the guests of Dravon to think Valtheris cannot even afford to welcome them properly."
He opened his arms wide, his head tilted back, like he was blessing us instead of mocking us.
My father couldn't say anything, only drink the humiliation. He was the King of Valtheris, the wall of the kingdom, but now he looked powerless. Helpless. Like all his battles, all his victories meant nothing in front of Mordred Dravon.
My mother said nothing too. She only turned her head away.
We were just watching, like an audience sitting back in their seats, while the show was played by Mordred Dravon.
Then he bent forward, one hand pressed to his stomach, the other swirling in the air as he spoke. "I shall take my leave now, King Aurelius—may your halls shine bright enough for your guests."
I could hear the contempt in his words. As if we could not entertain the guests of Dravon. As if we were beggars who had to rely on his generosity.
After Mordred left the hall with his knights, his laughter echoed outside.
"Haha… that bitch, what did she think of herself?" Mordred spat, his grin twisting uglier.
One of his knights stepped closer. "Prince, why did you stop us? If you had said the word, I would have beheaded the queen right there for daring to insult you."
The other knight clenched his fist on the hilt of his sword. "Yes, my lord. Her words should not go unpunished."
Mordred raised his hand, stopping them. His golden eyes gleamed with contempt.
"Not yet. Let them bark. Let them think they still have pride. Once the princess is mine, once Valtheris bends, then they will learn. All their beauty, all their women, all their treasures — they belong to me."
He licked his lips, eyes glowing yellow with hunger. "I will take it all. Every last piece. Because nothing in this world can resist Prince Mordred Dravon."
"And then… I will crush them all."
"But first that bitch... Acting cold, standing proud like a queen already." He spat on the ground. "She will be nothing but a slave in my palace. A concubine to serve me when I am tired of my wives."
His knights laughed with him.
"She will kneel when I command. She will warm my bed when I want. And when I grow bored, she can rot with the others," Mordred sneered.
But he didn't know that I could hear him. His greed. His ugly laugh. The contempt in his voice.
His knights laughed too, with the audacity to talk about beheading my mother.
Every word reached me clear, even though they were outside the hall. I could feel their voices crawl under my skin.
It was not like hearing with ears. It was deeper, sharper, like the words were carried straight into my blood.
I stayed still, my face cold, but inside I boiled.
Mordred's words cut into me. Slave. Concubine. To be used when he grew tired of others. To kneel when he wanted. To be thrown aside when he was done.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to run outside and drive my dagger into his heart.
I wanted his blood to pour and wash over the gold he gave — stain every jewel and coin with his blood.
Then I wanted to push the blade deeper, right into his chest.
But I didn't move. I couldn't. My body was still in the hall, but my mind was somewhere else — stretched out, reaching, listening.
Then it struck me.
This wasn't normal. This wasn't chance. I wasn't supposed to hear them from here.
It was that same damn bloody rose.
I could feel the pull, faint but clear. The rose was outside in the garden, and somehow, I was listening through it. Like the flower itself was my ear.
I didn't even know when I had done it. Maybe it was unconscious. Maybe it was my hatred that reached for it. My need to know his real face when he thought no one was watching.
The more I focused, the clearer it became. His laughter was ugly, rattling in my skull. His knights' voices came sharp, as if they stood beside me.
I realised it then. This was not just hearing. This was a spell. A part of the curse. A gift hidden inside the thorns.
And it was mine now.
I clenched my fists on my lap, forcing my face to stay calm as Mordred's voice dripped into my ears. He thought he was mocking me, spitting on me, planning to break me.
But all he had done was hand me a weapon.
I named it Blood Whisper.