Elizabeth sat at the edge of Kairus's bed, brushing her palm gently across his damp forehead, as though the warmth of her touch could ward off every shadow circling him.
"My son… we can't stay here anymore," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Every time you are in this palace, something happens. This morning—you fainted at breakfast! What if next time it is worse? What if I cannot reach you in time?"
Kairus—Eustass wearing his skin—forced a weary smile, his eyes softening. "Mother, you worry too much. I'm fine."
Elizabeth's hand stilled, her gaze piercing into him. "Do not take me for a fool, Kairus. I will not lose you to this place. We will leave before it swallows us whole."
Eustass hesitated, masking the sharp calculations swirling in his mind. If we leave now, Cliffmond wins. If we leave now, the truth dies with us. He exhaled deeply, choosing his words with care.
"If we leave," he said slowly, "then everything we endured, everything we survived—it will all be for nothing. There are truths buried here that I need to uncover."
Elizabeth leaned forward, her voice trembling with urgency. "What truth could possibly matter more than your life?"
Her eyes searched his face, and for a fleeting second, Eustass almost let the name Ser Dwayne Cliffmond slip from his tongue. But he bit it back. She didn't need that weight. Not yet.
Instead, he shifted, leaning into something that would strike her heart. "Mother… if we run now, they will say we had something to hide. Imagine the whispers: The youngest prince vanishes after fainting—was it cowardice? Or guilt? That is the story they will tell of us."
Elizabeth's brows knitted. "Rumors are nothing compared to—"
"But they are everything in this palace!" he snapped, sharper than he meant. He sat straighter despite the ache in his chest. "If we leave, we lose control of our own story. If we stay… then we still hold the board, even in silence. Do you understand?"
Elizabeth blinked, startled by the sudden fire in his tone. For a moment, she no longer saw her son lying weak before her—but something heavier, older, burning behind his eyes.
"You are too young to speak like this," she murmured, almost to herself.
Eustass smirked faintly. "Maybe. But running away would feel far more childish, wouldn't it?"
That struck her, her heart torn between fear and reluctant pride. Slowly, she closed her eyes, her hand tightening around his. After a long breath, she whispered, "Fine. We will stay. For a while. But hear me, Kairus—if I sense even a thread more danger, I will drag you out of this palace with my own hands."
Eustass leaned back, victory humming quietly in his chest. His lips barely moved as he whispered once she left, "I won't leave this palace… not until the hand behind that poison pays. They crossed the wrong man."
---
Elsewhere in the palace…
Emily walked briskly down the deserted corridor, her fingers twisting at the hem of her apron. The memory refused to leave her—the way her hands had closed around the prince's neck when the poison failed, her heart screaming that she had no choice. She could still feel the tremor in her grip, the horror in her own reflection as she nearly carried out the deed.
And yet… he had looked at her not with anger, but with a strange calmness. No punishment followed, no harsh words—only forgiveness. Each step now echoed too loudly against the stone walls, and her breath came shallow, uneven, as guilt and confusion tangled inside her chest.
Then—
Shhhk!
A hand seized her wrist and yanked her through a side door.
She yelped. "Ser Dwayne—!"
The chamber was dim, lit only by a narrow slit of window. His towering figure loomed over her, his shadow stretching long and sharp.
"How's the prince?" Dwayne demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "Did the poison take root?"
Emily's lips trembled. "I-I… the mission failed. He collapsed before drinking it. I don't know what happened."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Then—
Crack!
His fist struck her cheek. She stumbled, hitting the floor hard, her lips splitting against the stone. Blood warmed her mouth.
"You had one task!" he bellowed, his voice shaking the chamber. "One mission, and you couldn't even do that?"
Emily scrambled, her palms pressed against the floor, her whole body trembling. "I—I tried! I swear I tried! He fainted too quickly—"
"Excuses!" Dwayne roared, pacing like a predator. His armor clinked with each furious stride. He stopped abruptly, lowering himself to her level, his face inches from hers, his eyes alight with cruel fury.
"Do you even know what failure means, girl?" His voice dropped into a harsh whisper. "It means your family's debt stays chained. Do you think I promised you freedom for nothing? No. I promised it if you succeeded. Now?" He smirked, sharp and merciless. "Now I will bury them deeper in debt than they can ever crawl out of."
Emily's tears spilled freely, her sobs choked and desperate. "Please… please don't—"
"Begging won't change your failure," he spat, standing tall again, towering above her. His disgust was palpable. "One more mistake, and I'll make sure your family not only drowns in debt but drowns in disgrace. Do you understand me?"
She could only nod, her lips trembling, words caught in her throat.
Dwayne sneered, adjusting his gloves as if striking her had been nothing more than business. Without another glance, he stormed out, the door slamming behind him with a violent echo.
Emily remained crumpled on the floor, blood seeping from her split lip, her hands trembling in her lap. She pressed her forehead against her knees, rocking slightly, whispering to herself through broken breaths.
"How… how did I end up here? I only wanted to save them… I only wanted to help my family…"
Her cries were muffled by the chamber's stone walls, swallowed whole by the silence of a palace that would never hear them.
----
The chamber was quiet, save for the faint tick of the old clock upon the wall. Afternoon light spilled through the tall windows, catching specks of dust in its golden stream. Eustass sat motionless in his chair, his hands folded before him, his gaze distant.
His mind, however, was far from still.
"Dwayne Cliffmond…" he muttered under his breath, the name dripping with disdain. His jaw tightened, his thoughts circling like vultures over a battlefield.
"What was the reason, Cliffmond?" he whispered to the empty room. "Why did you desire me and Elizabeth dead? Who ordered you?"
His fingers tapped the armrest, slow and deliberate. "Right now, you hold a high post… a Royal Envoy of the Crown. Respected. Trusted. But in the year 1015…" His lips curled into a grim smile. "…you will swing for treason and fraud. History has already written your death, Cliffmond. And yet, here you are—playing your game far earlier than you should."
He leaned forward, elbows pressing against his knees, eyes narrowing in thought.
"Is it because of me?" he asked himself. "Did my very existence move the strings faster? Or is this your nature, rotten from the core?"
Silence.
Then he chuckled low, a villain's chuckle, the kind that carried no mirth. "It doesn't matter. You dared to cross me. And for that… your execution shall come sooner than fate intended. You've earned that much, Cliffmond. You've earned my hand guiding the noose around your neck."
He rose to his feet, straightening his garments with slow precision, brushing away imaginary dust from his coat. His steps carried him toward the tall standing mirror near the corner of the room. His reflection met him there, sharp eyes boring into his own.
He stopped just short of the glass, his breath brushing against its surface. For a long moment, he simply studied himself—yet not himself.
"Kairus…" he spoke softly, the name trembling with both guilt and resolve. "…I did not mean to steal your body. I don't even know what truly happened to you, or where your soul lies. But know this—"
He leaned closer, his hand pressing against the cold surface of the mirror. His reflection mirrored the gesture.
"—I will use everything I have to protect what you loved. What you cared for. Even if it means wearing your face, carrying your name, and walking your path as my own."
His fist slowly closed, pressing harder against the glass. The reflection stared back at him, unyielding.
"I promise."
With a firm motion, he drew back his hand and tapped his knuckles against the mirror—almost like a pact sealed between himself and the man whose body he now inhabited. The sound echoed faintly, yet to Eustass, it rang like thunder.
He stood tall, shoulders squared, his eyes no longer wavering between guilt and vengeance. The room felt smaller, the air denser, as if it too recognized the oath that had just been sworn.
For a moment, there was only silence again. Then, Eustass let out a breath, calm and steady. His reflection stared back—not as Kairus, nor as Eustass alone, but as something new. Something that the world had yet to witness.
And in the depths of his mind, vengeance burned hotter than ever.