The council chamber of Alderia had never felt smaller.
Dozens of voices rose and clashed like steel — advisers arguing, generals pacing, papers flying. The air reeked of smoke and panic. At the far end of the long table, Prince Adrian sat motionless, jaw clenched, eyes fixed on nothing.
"Your silence condemns us, Your Highness," one councilman spat, slamming his palm on the table. "The Vareen delegation demands an admission of guilt before sunset. Do you want war?"
"I didn't take her," Adrian said flatly. His voice barely carried over the noise, but the words sliced clean through it.
"Then prove it," another snapped. "Because as of this morning, Vareen's scouts have crossed the border. They're mobilizing. And the whole world believes you stole their princess to avenge your humiliation."
A flicker of rage sparked behind his eyes. "You think I'd harm her?"
The room fell into uneasy silence.
Across from him, King Edmund leaned forward, his expression tight with exhaustion. "Enough," he said quietly. "Leave us."
The council hesitated, then filed out, their whispers echoing down the marble corridor.
When the doors closed, only the king, the queen, and their son remained.
For a long moment, none of them spoke. Then Queen Isabella stepped closer, her gown whispering against the floor. "Adrian… my son… tell us the truth."
He looked up sharply. "You think I—"
"I think the world is burning because of you," she said, her tone breaking. "I think you loved that girl, and I think something went terribly wrong. If there's anything you're not saying, anything that could stop this madness—"
"There's nothing," he interrupted, his voice cold. "I swear on my crown."
Isabella's face softened with pain. "The truth has a way of surfacing, Adrian. You can't hide from it forever."
His father turned away, hands clasped behind his back. "Your silence is destroying this family," King Edmund said quietly. "If she's alive, say it. If she's dead—"
"She's not dead," Adrian said through his teeth. "And I'll prove it."
But the conviction in his voice trembled — because even he wasn't sure anymore.
⸻
By afternoon, Queen Mirabel of Vareen arrived at the Alderian palace gates under heavy escort. Her carriage was draped in mourning black. The guards bowed low, but the tension was suffocating.
Inside the great hall, she faced King Edmund and Queen Isabella.
"I came here as a mother," Mirabel said, her voice steady but cold. "Not as a queen."
Isabella stepped forward. "Mirabel—"
"Don't," she cut in sharply. "Your son was the last to see my daughter alive. Now one of my servants is dead, and his body was delivered to my palace like a message. You tell me, Queen Isabella — what kind of message do you send with corpses?"
The question hung in the air like smoke.
Edmund's jaw tightened. "If we had any hand in it, you wouldn't be standing here."
Mirabel's eyes glimmered with tears she refused to shed. "Then find her," she whispered. "Because if you don't, my husband will burn your borders to the ground."
She turned and swept out before they could answer.
⸻
Elsewhere, Liana sat in a dim attic, the curtains drawn, her phone clutched in her shaking hands. Every news channel screamed the same headline: WAR IMMINENT.
She hadn't eaten in days. Her grandmother thought she was simply "avoiding the noise." But Liana couldn't silence it — the replaying guilt, the faces of both kingdoms, the endless speculation.
No one knew she was the woman in the leaked video. No one knew she was the spark that started this inferno.
Her inbox was full of unread messages — one name standing out over and over: Adrian.
She couldn't bring herself to open them.
"I never meant for this," she whispered to the empty room. "I never meant for any of this."
⸻
That night, Adrian stood alone on the palace balcony, the kingdom spread before him — a sea of lights flickering under storm clouds.
He hadn't slept. He couldn't. Every rumor, every lie, every headline carved deeper into him.
A soft chime broke the silence.
He looked down at his phone. Unknown Sender. One message.
Play me.
His blood ran cold.
He hesitated only a second before pressing play.
The screen filled with movement — dim candlelight, the edge of his bed, the soft curve of Liana's shoulder. His throat tightened. It was the same night. The same angle the world had seen.
But then the camera shifted.
A second perspective, from the night with Liana — one he had never known existed. Hidden. Watching.
And outside, thunder rolled over Alderia — the sound of war approaching.