Azorius left his seat and walked up to the sack of gunpowder, his gaze closely examining it until he muttered, "Investigate this, Zand!" His tone growled while Noori stood confidently, her hands clasped in front of her body.
"Yes, Your Majesty," Zand replied, bowing his head. The servants picked up the sack of gunpowder and dragged it behind Zand as he left the room.
Once it was just Noori and Azorius in the room, Noori turned towards him and spoke, "Thank you, Your Majesty, for showing justice."
Azorius shook his head before saying, "It is all okay. You can rest assured, No one in this palace from now on will regard you as anything other than part of the royal family. And there is another thing I wish to discuss with you." His tone grew serious.
Noori glanced up at him and spoke, "Please, Your Majesty, speak away. I will do whatever I can to be of assistance."
Azorius wetted his throat before pointing at Dastan, who lay in the bed still and silent. "Thank you for saving him. I am glad that you didn't let hate take over you and let my son get hurt. The fact that not a single hair on his body has been harmed makes it evident that you clearly were not trying to harm him," he said, and Noori smiled.
"As I said, Your Majesty, husbands are regarded highly in Nuria, and as for me, his life is my life, and everything else is completely unrelated," she spoke those words with such fluency that some might be confused as to whether she was lying or telling the truth.
Azorius, though not fully convinced, had no other option, so he spoke. "If that is the case, then let me tell you one thing," he said. "There is a curse that has followed Dastan since birth, but now it has completely taken over him, sending him into an eternal sleep." Noori's face remained still.
"Is that true?" she asked.
"Yes, and the curse suggests that if he isn't awoken soon, his heart might continue to freeze until he dies," he ended. For a moment, Noori's eyes sparkled, but it was just a momentary thing.
"Die? Is there a cure?" she asked curiously.
"You!" he said instantly, making Noori's eyebrows lift as if asking, 'how me?'
"A bride from Nuria Kingdom can melt his heart, He will ive if you can manage to melt his heart." HE added.
"How is that possible?" Noori shook her head, glancing at Dastan, who was paper-pale and nothing less than a dead body.
"We were unsure too, but today, after just one night beside you, he has drastically improved in his health. So I believe if you remain close to him, his curse might fade away completely," Azorius said.
Noori turned her head back to Azorius, her eyes slightly widened this time. "Completely?"
"Yes. So if you truly want us to believe that you are nothing but true to this country, you must prove it with your actions," Azorius hinted at her prior words as if using them against her before he turned around to leave the room.
The guards shut the doors, and Noori remained in her steps, watching the door.
"So that means—" she thought for a while before turning around. "I should heal you," she stated as she took a step closer to the bed, her gaze fixed on his serene face. Just as she reached the end of it, she paused, her lips curling up in a wry smile. "But never completely. So that they need me for as long as it suits me." A hint of animosity was hidden in her words almost like a villain.
The maids knocked on the door, diverting Noori's attention towards them as they entered the room with clothes in hand.
"Your Highness, we have brought you something comfortable," they said, their heads bowed low in deference.
"Put it there and leave," Noori commanded, her tone firm yet devoid of malice. The maids, eager to comply, swiftly placed the clothes on the table before making their exit, shutting the doors tightly behind them.
Noori picked up the clothes and changed into them, the fabric feeling foreign against her skin compared to her usual attire. Once dressed, she sat on the other side of the bed and tentatively touched the mattress, finding it too soft for her liking, much like everything else in the palace. With a sigh, she climbed into the bed, her movements deliberate as she lazily opened her hair, letting it cascade down her back. Slowly, she removed her tiara, placing it gently on the bedside table, before laying beside Dastan and gazing at him intently.
"Married." With that word, she paused for a very long time, her thoughts swirling in a tempest of conflicting emotions. She didn't utter another word, her facial muscles contorting into a silent battle between a frown and a scowl. "To a man of Solyria," she finally spoke, her voice tinged with deep pain resonating from the depths of her chest. A pang shot through her, a visceral reminder of the weight of her circumstances. "What a twist of fate. God must be amused playing with me like this." She felt a churning in the pit of her stomach, an uncomfortable sensation accompanied by a bitter, vile taste rising in her throat.
Her hand slowly lifted, a delicate movement as it crept up to his neck, the barrier of her glove preventing their skins from touching directly. Her fingers brushed against his neck, applying gentle pressure, as if testing his response, but there was no reaction. A sense of dissatisfaction washed over her, a frustration at the lack of acknowledgment from the man lying before her.