The late afternoon sun fell over the castle courtyard in ribbons of pale gold, but its warmth did little to soften the chill that followed when Melanie's uncle appeared. His steps echoed against the stone as he crossed the flagstones, his eyes fixed on her with a malicious gleam that made her chest tighten.
"Well, if it isn't the shame of the family," he sneered, his voice sharp as broken glass. "You couldn't even keep a man loyal to you. And now look at you—parading around with a creature beneath us all. A pitiful excuse of a woman."
Meliny's breath caught. She wanted to recoil, to scream back, yet the words lodged in her throat like shards. Every insult clawed at her skin. She felt as though the entire weight of his hatred had been waiting, festering, just to be poured on her. Her chest rose and fell quickly, her fingers trembling at her sides.
She expected Drovek to lash out, as he so often did when insulted, his temper a storm that shattered whatever dared stand against him. But instead, his expression remained unreadable, calm—unnervingly calm. His glowing eyes lingered on the uncle for a fleeting second, and then he simply turned to her, offering his hand.
"Come," Drovek said, voice low, smooth as velvet.
Meliny hesitated, startled by his restraint, but the safety in his tone drew her in. She placed her hand in his, and together they walked away, leaving her uncle behind, his cruel laughter bouncing off the walls. Each step away from that venom felt like a lifeline, though Meliny's chest still ached with the sting of humiliation.
They passed through the ivy-lined corridor and into one of the castle's inner courtyards. Here, the world seemed softer. The fading sun caught the delicate petals of roses in bloom, painting them crimson fire. At the center of the courtyard stood a stone table, and waiting upon it was a silver tray with steaming tea and slices of the honey cake she adored. The sight made her eyes sting with tears—she hadn't even realized how much she needed such small comforts.
Drovek guided her to sit, and for once, silence wasn't heavy. He poured the tea with care, setting the porcelain cup in front of her as if it were the most natural act in the world.
Meliny wrapped her fingers around the cup, the warmth seeping into her cold palms. "You…you're unusually quiet," she murmured, daring to look into his eyes.
His lips curved faintly. "Not every insult deserves fire. Sometimes silence cuts deeper."
Her chest tightened again, but this time it was not from pain—it was something gentler, a flicker of gratitude.
Before she could answer, footsteps echoed. A servant appeared, bowing nervously as he placed a folded magazine upon the table. Drovek arched a brow, reaching for it. Melanie leaned closer as he flipped it open, the ink still smelling sharp and fresh.
The headline screamed scandal: "Crown Prince Caught in the Queen's Chamber." Below, a grainy sketch imitated the shapes of two figures—crown prince's mother and the heir to throne
"It's a lie," Drovek muttered, his tone heavy with certainty. "Leonardo's hand is all over this. A distraction. A blade slipped between the ribs of the royal household."
She looked at him, eyes wide, searching his expression for something solid to hold on to. But he only closed the magazine with deliberate calm, as if refusing to let the poison seep further.
The kingdom was in chaos from scandal thr royal family try to deny such terrible scandal but unexpectedly in duke's palace No one said anything more. The servant bowed and left, the sound of his retreat fading until only the quiet rustle of leaves filled the air. Meliny sipped her tea, though it tasted bitter now, the sweetness of honey cake dulled by unease. Her heart hammered with unspoken dread.
That night, the castle lay under a heavy silence. The moonlight spilled through her window in silver strands, but sleep refused to come. Meliny turned beneath the sheets, replaying her uncle's words, the magazine headline, Drovek's strange calmness.
Then, suddenly—
A scream.
It pierced the stillness, raw and sharp, coming from the east wing. From her uncle's chambers.
Meliny bolted upright, her heart lurching into her throat. The scream echoed again, then cut short, leaving behind a silence far too deep. The kind of silence that carried questions. Secrets.
She clutched the sheets, her breath trembling. What had happened?
And why, in the corner of the silence, did she feel a strange certainty that Drovek was no longer as calm as he seemed?