Tension filled the room like a blade suspended between them, as Daniel and Lina locked eyes in heavy silence. It had been a long time since they last spoke, as if a frozen river had stretched between them—one only words could hope to thaw. Finally, Lina broke the silence, her voice edged with concern:
"Does your cheek still hurt?"
Daniel replied with indifferent calm, laced with sarcasm:
"I'm fine… but I would've preferred if you untied me. It's easier to talk when one is comfortable."
Lina sighed, disappointment clouding her tone.
"I can't do that. You've become a threat—to the king, and to my children. I can't risk releasing you."
Her response was expected. Daniel remained silent; there was no need for words when suspicion had already drawn its bars. But the silence weighed heavier on Lina than any accusation.
"I had hoped you'd keep your head down," she continued, her voice weary with regret. "Not reveal your powers in times as volatile as these… but you only made things worse. As the poet said, 'The winds do not blow as the ships desire.' There's no turning back now."
Daniel raised an eyebrow, his voice sharp with irony:
"Are you telling me I should've backed down? Let them stab me in the back, call me a fool, a worthless pawn?"
Her eyes narrowed, displeased with his tone. She snapped back, voice rising:
"Please, Daniel, spare me the theatrics. No one in this palace knows you better than I do. You could've avoided all this—Darice's death, the prison, even the… loss of your virginity."
There was a piercing certainty in her voice. She wasn't guessing—she knew. Daniel's expression grew serious. Lina had read him well. She had always been close to him, even more than to her own children. But there were things she hadn't known—until recently. That curiosity had stayed her hand from killing him. The mystery kept her from pulling the final thread.
"And how exactly could I have avoided it all?" Daniel asked quietly. "Even when I isolated myself, buried in books and sleep… you never left me alone."
It was a bitter truth. Lina didn't deny it. She responded:
"Your life is a golden cage, studded with gems—do you know how many would trade places with you? You could've obeyed their orders, silenced them for a while, bought yourself time. Instead, you chose to provoke them."
Her words were true—on the surface. Daniel could've played along, pretended weakness, and waited. But pride would not allow it. He was the serpent in every sense—subtle, silent, and deadly when the moment came.
He spoke, voice calm but brimming with threat:
"Why do you think I did all this? For glory? Power? Lust? Money? Rulership? No. I did it for freedom. And now, that freedom is in your hands. Either release me so I can leave this kingdom… or kill me now with your own hands. The choice is yours."
This time, Lina was shaken. She hadn't expected him to place his fate so plainly in her hands. Fear spread across her beautiful features, and words echoed inside her: Death or freedom? Kill him with my own hands? Let him go?
Blood seeped from her lower lip as she bit down, breath unsteady, thoughts spiraling. Why did I come here? What did I want? How do I build a world where everyone lives in peace? Countless questions flooded her mind.
Then—suddenly—a spark returned to her eyes. Her true nature, the principles she believed in, stirred from dormancy. She exhaled, deeply and slowly, lifting her head to meet Daniel's gaze.
Daniel sensed the shift. A darkened gray aura emerged from her—a rare shade. Finally, she spoke:
"I don't care what plans you have, or what freedom you chase. Right now, you're alone. And your fate belongs to me—I'm the only one in control. So shut that filthy mouth of yours."
Her voice brimmed with cold authority. Daniel laughed, a loud, theatrical laugh, tears of false amusement in his eyes.
"There it is—your true face," he said with amusement. "All these years, you were lost in hesitation. And I… I helped free you from it. No need to thank me." His tone turned grave. "But know this: the path you've chosen is lined with thorns. It begins with light, then descends into a darkness that devours those closest to you. But as the heavens will it—light always follows darkness."
It sounded like prophecy, but it was not. These were truths—undeniable ones—spoken by the maestro orchestrating a silent symphony of victory.
Daniel turned his gaze to the ceiling, voice tinged with irony:
"It's time to repay the debt. And when all this ends, we'll be enemies. There's still time to step back."
But Lina didn't flinch. She walked to the wall, chose the smallest whip from among many, and returned to where Daniel lay bound. Seeing her advance, whip in hand, a strange peace spread over Daniel's features. The time had come—to sever the final thread between them. He said:
"Now begins the reckoning. When this ends, we'll be enemies. There's still time… to reconsider."
Lina's eyes gleamed with resolute purpose. Her voice cut through the air:
"I no longer care."