The summons came at dawn.
A black-clad messenger from the Crown Prince's personal guard arrived at the Wadee villa with a sealed scroll bearing Teivel's crest. The message was short, cold, and impossible to ignore:
Her Grace Gorgina Wadee is commanded to appear before the Crown Prince immediately. Bring no escort. The matter concerns treason and the security of the future heir of the throne.
Gorgina read the scroll once in the entrance hall, her face a mask of ice. The blood from last night's beating of Gerffron had long been washed from her hands, but the memory of his blood on her knuckles still lingered like a ghost.
She dressed in full ducal regalia — deep burgundy velvet trimmed with black fox, the ceremonial sword at her hip, her burgundy hair pinned with rubies that matched the fire in her eyes. No one in the villa dared speak to her as she walked to the carriage. Even Lady Elowen watched in silence, fan motionless for once.
The ride to the palace was silent.
When Gorgina entered the throne room, the atmosphere was thick with accusation.
Crown Prince Teivel sat on the raised dais, flanked by his most loyal followers — six high nobles in black and silver, their faces hard. The room was smaller than the ballroom, intimate and suffocating. Torches burned low. No music. No laughter. Only the crackle of flame and the weight of suspicion.
Teivel did not rise. His golden hair was perfectly arranged, but his blue eyes were cold as winter steel.
"Gorgina," he said, voice deceptively soft. "Sit."
She remained standing.
Teivel's lips thinned. "Very well. Then we'll do this standing."
One of his followers — Lord Vesperin, the same man and guest who had bought Styrmir at the auction — stepped forward, voice sharp.
"The slave market's opening lot escaped last night. The rare blood prince. The boy who was supposed to be the centerpiece. He was taken from the east wing lower cells — a location known only to the Crown Prince, his inner circle, and the Duke of Wadee. I bought him but when I wanted to claim him, it was told to me that it was nowhere to be found! What kind of behaviour is this?"
Another noble spoke, voice dripping venom. "Your consort was seen leaving the ballroom during the fireworks. He was caught returning from the forest with blood on his hands. And now the boy is gone. Coincidence, Your Grace?"
Gorgina's face remained stone.
Teivel leaned forward, fingers steepled. "The cells were under my personal guard. No one outside this room and you knew the exact location. No one. Yet the boy vanished. Your husband orchestrated it. And you… you expect us to believe you knew nothing?"
The room waited.
Gorgina's voice, when it came, was ice.
"I knew nothing."
The words dropped like stones into a frozen lake.
Teivel's eyes narrowed. "Nothing?"
"Nothing," she repeated, colder. "Gerffron Wadee is no longer my husband. He is a traitor who used my name and my household to commit treason. I disown him completely. He is nothing to me."
A murmur rippled through the nobles.
Lord Vesperin sneered. "Convenient. You were seen dancing with him all night. You were seen whispering with him. You were seen leaving the palace with him. And now you claim ignorance?"
Gorgina turned her head slowly and fixed the man with a stare that could freeze blood.
"I danced with the man I thought was loyal. I whispered to the man I thought was mine. I left with the man I thought I could trust." Her voice never wavered. "I was wrong. He betrayed me as much as he betrayed the Crown Prince."
Teivel studied her for a long moment. The silence stretched until it was painful.
Then he smiled — thin, dangerous, unsatisfied.
"Your loyalty is being questioned, Duke Wadee. The boy screamed your husband's name while you whipped him. Your consort knew the exact location of the cells. And now the most valuable slave in my collection is gone. Explain to me why I should not believe you helped him."
Gorgina lifted her chin.
"Because if I had helped him, the boy would already be dead and buried where no one could find him. I do not leave loose ends, Your Highness. I cut them."
The words were brutal. Final.
Teivel leaned back. His followers exchanged uneasy glances. The accusation hung in the air, but Gorgina's cold denial had planted doubt.
"Very well," Teivel said at last. "We will investigate further. But know this — if I find even a thread connecting you to the escape, I will not hesitate to strip you of your duchy and your life."
Gorgina bowed — shallow, perfect, emotionless.
"As you command, Your Highness."
She turned and walked out of the throne room without another word. She let the frantic voice of Lord Vesperin die behind the doors; "What about my money, Your Highness?"
The moment the doors closed behind her, the mask cracked for half a second.
In the empty corridor, Gorgina pressed her back to the cold stone wall and closed her eyes. Her hands trembled. The image of Gerffron's bloodied face, his quiet voice saying "I'm sorry," flashed behind her lids.
She had loved him.
She had actually loved him.
And he had chosen the boy over her.
The pain was so sharp it stole her breath.
Then she straightened.
The cold returned.
The Duke returned.
She walked out of the palace with her head high, cape swirling behind her like a banner of war.
Back at the Wadee villa, she went straight to the dungeons beneath the east wing — the private cells reserved for the highest traitors.
Gerffron was chained to the wall, wrists above his head, body bruised and bloodied from the beating. He lifted his head when the door opened.
Gorgina stood in the doorway, face a mask of ice.
She stepped inside and closed the door.
For a long moment she simply looked at him — the man she had beaten, the man she had loved, the man who had destroyed everything.
Then she spoke, voice flat and dead.
"I denied any association with you in front of the Crown Prince and his council. I told them you were a traitor who used me. I told them I knew nothing."
She walked closer until she stood directly in front of him.
Her hand rose.
The slap cracked across his already bruised face.
"You made me look weak," she said coldly. "You made me question my own loyalty in front of the man who holds my future in his hands."
She slapped him again. Harder.
"You made me love you."
The third slap drew fresh blood from his lip.
"And now I have to prove to the entire empire that I am still the Duke they fear."
She stepped back, breathing hard, eyes glittering with unshed tears she refused to let fall.
"You are dead to me, Gerffron Wadee. From this moment on, you are nothing but a prisoner in my dungeons. When the Crown Prince decides your fate, I will not speak a word in your defence."
She turned to leave.
At the door she paused, back to him.
"I hope the boy was worth it."
The door slammed shut.
Gerffron hung in the chains, blood dripping from his chin, and smiled through split lips.
The denial had come.
The cold had returned.
Yes, he was worth it. Styrmir was worth it.