But now—with General Morien fallen from grace, with the Duchess exposed, with all masks torn off—he was naked beneath the sun.
"I… I-I don't…" he stammered, eyes darting like a cornered rat.
"It didn't have poison. It was… just wine."
Silence.
No one moved. Not even the wind dared speak.
The Duchess, standing only feet away, trembled.
Her mouth twisted into a snarl of fury.
All her planning, all her patience, all her years of silent loathing—and now undone.
Not by the Duke.
Not even by fate.
But by him.
"You imbecile!" she shrieked, voice raw, strangled by rage.
"You bastard child! You shattered everything!"
She lunged, eyes wild.
Guards stepped in instantly, grabbing her arms as she thrashed and screamed—her words curses, venom, regret.
"I could've done it! Today or tomorrow, I would have! But you—you filthy little insect—you ruined everything!"
Aerik shrank back, shoulders hunched, his mouth opening and closing without sound.
