Chapter 128: Fair deal
In the heart of the capital city of Bodin, within the grand, sprawling halls of the royal palace, a scene of terror unfolds beneath the glittering chandeliers and lavish tapestries. The fourth prince of Narcio, once the embodiment of regal arrogance, now lies crumpled on the cold marble floor, his body bound tightly with ropes that dig into his skin. His once-pristine robes are torn and dirtied, a stark contrast to the opulence surrounding him. He shivers uncontrollably, his face pale with fear, eyes wide and filled with the kind of terror only a man who has faced his worst nightmares could understand.
Before him stands a figure that haunts the dreams of many—the Crimson General. His name alone is enough to send shivers down the spine of even the bravest of warriors. Draped in armor stained a deep red, the color of countless battles fought and won, the general looms over the prince like a harbinger of doom. His presence is suffocating, the air around him heavy with the weight of violence and power. Every step he takes is measured, deliberate, the sound of his boots against the marble floor echoing ominously in the silent chamber.
The general’s face, cold and unreadable, is a mask of perfect control. His eyes, however, tell a different story—dark, sharp, and utterly merciless, they burn with a fury that promises no mercy. The room itself seems to shrink in his presence, the vast expanse of the palace fading into the background as the prince’s world narrows to the terrifying figure before him.
The prince whimpers, his voice barely more than a pathetic whisper, his body trembling with the weight of his dread. He had heard the stories, of course. Everyone had. Tales of the Crimson General’s unrelenting brutality on the battlefield, of the rivers of blood left in his wake. But stories are one thing. To face the man in the flesh, to see the cold fire in his eyes as he stands before you, is something else entirely.
**
It’s been a bitch trying to find you, your highness. I’ve wasted more time than I ever should have on this fool, and my patience has run dry. The dimly lit room feels claustrophobic, the heavy scent of incense and velvet suffocating me as I stare down at the sorry figure sprawled on the floor. His hands and legs are bound, the ropes biting into his skin, and a gag muffles the pathetic whimpers spilling from his trembling lips. I take a slow breath, controlling the anger simmering beneath my skin. I want to kill him already, but there’s information I need first.
I had all my men scour the entire Narcio kingdom for this idiot, all while dodging attempts on my life from assassins and enduring pointless meetings with nobles who barely deserved my attention for some so called truce. My temper’s been stretched thin, frayed by the endless tasks dragging me further from where I should be—with Noelle. My chest tightens at the thought of him, at the distance keeping me from him. I miss him, more than I let myself admit, and that makes my temper shorter, my tolerance for this nonsense all but gone.
I roll my shoulders, trying to release the tension coiling in my muscles, and glance down at the prince. The fear in his eyes isn’t nearly enough. Not for what he’s done, for what his kingdom has cost me. I motion for Leona, who stands off to the side, ever watchful, her hand steady on the hilt of her blade.
"Take off the gag," I say, my voice low and commanding, leaving no room for disobedience. She moves without hesitation, yanking the cloth from the prince’s mouth. He gasps and coughs, his chest heaving, but I don’t give him time to recover.
"Thomas said you were weakened from the poison," he blurts out between coughs. "That’s why you weren’t seen for over three years." His voice trembles, but there’s an edge of desperation there. He’s clinging to hope, thinking this information might save him.
I scoff, the sound harsh in the quiet room. I can’t help the disbelief that bubbles up inside me. Poison. I almost laugh, but the rage curling in my gut is too strong, too sharp.
"Should I be honored?" I mutter, more to myself than to him. I pace in front of him, my mind racing, connecting the dots. "A major affair involving three kingdoms—Narcio, Bodin, and my beloved Aspen. All to take me out." I look back at him, incredulous.