The leader of House Genese, a sweet-talking diplomat with fiery pride, turned as red as a ripe pomegranate. He coughed nervously, the vein in his forehead throbbing.
"How is it?" he growled, leaning over the table. "Repeat what you told me"
"And why wouldn't I?" Theodore retorted, arms crossed, as firm as ever. "Are you going to deny it? It's the truth"
I kept quiet. It wasn't time to intervene. Yet.
But things only got worse. The diplomat stood up with a venomous half-smile.
"Oh my God... and how good would it be then? With a family of mercenary traders?" He laughed, acidly. "You can't cross a lion with a greedy rat. The rat might even try... but it'll be crushed by the weight"
The tension rose like a flame. Theodore leaned forward, and I saw that gleam in his eyes - the same gleam I saw when he trained me to break an opponent's guard with a single blow.
"Are you saying we're weak?" he snapped. "Then let's see who's weaker"
"You can come" The diplomat immediately retorted, standing up. "Come here by yourself. Let's see if you can fill your fists with coins!"
"Gentlemen, please!" the mediator intervened, almost in desperation. "Calm down, please! This is a public place, a court! We need to maintain a good image for the nobles outside! Please!" concluded the mediator, his voice echoing around the room as he tried in vain to contain the tension that was rising like gunpowder smoke.
It took several minutes for both sides to calm down. It wasn't easy to contain wounded egos and old rivalries when every word felt like a blow.
"But that's something we need to take into consideration" insisted one of them.
"Forget it. The Udrak never marry outsiders. They're... strangers" Arsino grumbled, in his usual smug tone. He was already aware of my family's rules.
Perhaps he thought the way my father decided our marriages was short-sighted - pairing family members with peasant warriors instead of seeking noble alliances. But it was this policy that kept us strong. Rooted. Loyal to each other.
The truth is that House Udrak was young. Only three generations. But even so, our growth was solid. We didn't expand like other families. We didn't fall into the trap of greed for more land. We preferred to strengthen our territory - the ground we could protect with our own hands.
"They're doubling the number of their staff" I heard someone comment in the background. "Recently, the crime rate in the Udrak lands has dropped dramatically. All this theater here... was predicted by them. They've blown a hole in the spring house and yet they don't mind spending time in court. They've changed absurdly in a short space of time"
"I heard" another added. "That there's a mass immigration of artisans to their territory. The benefits they offer are absurd. If it weren't for this conflict with House Violet, we'd already be thinking about how to prepare to face them"
The words hung in the air like thick smoke. I knew that my father had been planting seeds for years. And now, finally, they were blossoming.
It was then that a metallic, rhythmic sound broke the conversation: the court bell.
I looked towards the entrance and saw, in the distance, the carriages approaching.
White, gleaming like ivory. At the top, violet flags fluttered in the wind. The coat of arms of the Violet House. The horses pulling them were not just any animals - they were war horses, large and trained, with black manes and defined musculatures.
Three chariots. Ten warriors.
Each of them wore red scale armor, which shimmered like dried blood in the morning light. When they parked, the warriors dismounted in perfect synchrony and formed a corridor in front of the entrance.
It was then that the main carriage opened.
Out stepped a tall, thin man with a cool, elegant posture. His blue eyes shone like ice and his red hair fell over his shoulders, contrasting with the white cloak that covered his body like pure snow.
With a calculated gesture, he extended his hand into the carriage. A pale hand, with thin, manicured fingers, grasped his and revealed itself to the light.
A girl emerged from inside the carriage, carried like a princess by one of the noble escorts. She was small - no more than four feet tall - but her presence filled the space as if she were made of light. Her straight red hair flowed down her white dress, light and loose, with a cut that gave away her foreign origin. Gold bracelets and shin guards shone against her fair skin, and a heavy necklace rested on her chest. But what really caught the eye were her eyes. Blue. Deep. Like freshly polished sapphires in the light of the rising sun.
She was barefoot.
As the procession approached the court, she looked up with a charming smile. She looked directly at the benches where the lords and senators stood, and greeted each of them with a look and a slight nod. It was as if she was dancing with their attention, leading each nobleman as she pleased.
But then she saw me.
Our eyes met and, in that instant, her face changed. Her cheeks turned pink. Her lips slightly parted. A shy, almost passionate look appeared in her sparkling eyes, as if she were seeing the love of her life for the first time. It was the perfect performance.
And everyone bought it.
On my family's side, silence fell like a stone. My father, sitting next to me, muttered between his teeth:
"By the seven seas... that woman is good at acting..."
He didn't have to say another word. The eyes began to fall on me - not those of the Udrak, but of everyone else. One by one, the nobles in the stands who didn't know my story began to frown, tilt their heads, twist their lips. As if they were all thinking the same thing:
(How did you have the nerve to reject something so pure and innocent? And then abuse her? She clearly still loves you, and you treat her like nothing? Unacceptable)
I swallowed. I kept my face impassive.
Victoria was taken to the platform and placed carefully at the judge's right side. She sat with her legs together, like a porcelain doll, her fingers intertwined in her lap. The sunlight bathed her milk-white skin. I knew what she was doing - and I knew how dangerous she was.
But what bothered me most was that look. The way she looked at me... like she was starving.
I could feel the intensity with which she examined me. Her eyes traveled down my body as if she wanted to rip off the armor and see what had changed in me. I saw her breathing falter. I saw her fingers tighten the fabric of her dress. She didn't want justice. She wanted me.
"What will it taste like now?" that's what her eyes seemed to ask.
She was a viper. And I was the fool who had already been bitten by her once.
I crossed my arms and looked away, maintaining my expression of boredom. But inside... my blood was already starting to heat up.