Fourth Arc (Thorns of The Black Throne) - 449. The Dark King's Request II
Cassian took a moment. Then said, "You can shake his hand. Or you can test his patience. But don't pretend he's beneath you. Because he isn't."
The king slowly turned around, his expression unreadable. "And what does he know of us?"
Cassian met his gaze directly. "I don't know. But if there's even a chance he does… it may be time to prepare."
Silence fell again.
And this time, it felt heavier.
Outside, a wind kicked through the courtyard, sending dust in swirls and fluttering the banners of Pontus. The scent of pine, sweat, and iron drifted in from the sparring fields.
The king let the weight settle on his shoulders.
"He's coming here," he muttered. "To my court."
Cassian didn't reply.
Darius finally looked at the letter again, running a thumb along the edge. The seal had been cleanly broken. No tricks. No hidden threats. Just the truth — unnerving in its simplicity.
"Fine," he said at last.
Cassian straightened.
"We'll welcome him," the king said, voice low. "But not as a friend. Not yet. I want his every word recorded. His every glance monitored. And if he so much as breathes wrong—"
"I'll handle it," Cassian said smoothly. "You won't have to lift a finger."
Darius gave a small nod, but his fingers curled tightly around the parchment.
"Make the arrangements."
Cassian bowed, turned on his heel, and strode from the throne room.
Behind him, the king remained alone in the vast chamber, staring at the moon-stamped letter in his hand. His thumb hovered just beneath the wax seal's crumbled edge, tracing the grooves as if the shape alone might explain the man who had sent it. The weight of it lingered in his palm. The implication, heavier.
The sound of heels clicked against the marble behind him... slow, deliberate, the rhythm too graceful to belong to a soldier or a page.
He didn't turn.
"I heard," came a voice behind him, warm and sweet like aged wine and honeyed berries, "we are going to have a guest? An important one?"
The queen of Pontus rarely announced herself. She didn't need to. Her presence curled into rooms the way smoke slid beneath a doorframe. Velvet and quiet. Inevitable.
Queen Seraphine drifted into the chamber in a gown of dark plum silk, embroidered with the kingdom's crest, a boar mid-charge, tusks bared, in subtle black thread only visible when the light caught it just right. Her raven-black hair had been braided in an elegant crown that gleamed with tiny garnet pins. She smelled of roses, cardamom, and the faintest trace of old fire—like someone who burned letters before reading them and kissed curses on the forehead.
Darius turned slightly, just enough to glance at her over his shoulder.
"I didn't summon you," he said flatly.
Seraphine smiled. "You never do. But you always think loudly."
She came to stand beside him at the window, hands folded, eyes distant as they looked out over the courtyard where the guards had resumed their drills. Her fingers brushed against his sleeve, featherlight, like she might touch him, but didn't.
"So," she murmured, "he's really coming."
Darius didn't answer.
Seraphine tilted her head. "Angelus Raizel Moonfall. Euphorion's shadow darling. I've heard he has sharp eyes like stormlight. And lips that don't smile unless they're about to say something cruel."
Darius side-eyed her. "You sound impressed."
"I'm curious," she corrected. "That's different."
He turned fully now, stepping away from the window. The queen's gaze followed him as he walked, pacing.
"He's not here for pageantry," Darius said. "Not here for trade, either. That's just the bait. You know it."
Seraphine's voice remained soft. "Then what does he want?"
Darius exhaled, hands tightening behind his back. "Something. Someone. Leverage. Favor. A treaty. A promise. I don't know yet. But he's not flying into our court for taxes on northern spice routes."
The queen hummed, walking slowly to the throne and perching delicately on its armrest rather than the chair itself. She adjusted her skirt as she sat, revealing one booted ankle beneath layers of silk. Darius noticed. He always did.
"And what will you do when he arrives?" she asked.
"Greet him. Talk. Listen. Weigh him."
"Flirt?"
He shot her a look.
She grinned. "It's going to be awful."
Darius rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You're impossible."
"I'm your wife."
>Read the original on webnovel* .com
>Read 10 chapter ahead of DM + 2 weekly update
My Pat*reo*n-page: pat*reon.*com/nanakawaichan
(erase the *)
My ko-fi page: ko-fi.*com/nanakawaichan
My Discord: discord.gg/mSRHyMVhnG