The Dark Trinity

Chapter 22

Viktor strode through the dimly lit corridors of the palace, his heavy boots echoing against the stone. His steps were deliberate, his expression cold. The sharp scent of blood still clung to him from the battlefield, mixing with the faint, perfumed air of the castle halls. When he reached Sofia's chambers, he paused for a moment before pushing the door open without ceremony.

Inside, Sofia lounged upon a plush chaise draped in silken fabrics, her long, dark hair cascading over one shoulder. Servants knelt at her feet, one carefully cleaning her toes while another painted her nails a deep crimson. She glanced up at Viktor's entrance, her expression one of mild boredom that turned into a practiced smile.

"My lord," she greeted, her voice soft, lilting. "You honor me with your presence."

Viktor said nothing, his gaze sweeping the room. Without acknowledging her further, he strode toward the bathing chamber. Sofia's eyes narrowed slightly, but she maintained her composure, dismissing the servants with a wave of her hand.

"Leave us," she commanded, her tone sharp. The servants scrambled to obey, gathering their tools and slipping silently from the room.

By the time Sofia rose from her seat and followed, Viktor was already sinking into the steaming bath. He leaned back against the edge, closing his eyes as the hot water soothed his battered body.

Sofia lingered in the doorway for a moment, her dark eyes studying him. "You might have spoken a word upon entering," she said, her tone teasing but edged with irritation.

Viktor opened his eyes, his expression stony. "I did not come here to exchange pleasantries."

Sofia arched a brow, her lips curving into a sly smile. She moved closer, her gown whispering against the floor. "As you wish, my lord," she murmured, lowering herself gracefully onto a stool beside the bath.

The silence stretched between them as Viktor finished his bath. When he finally rose, water streaming from his broad shoulders and muscular frame, Sofia didn't look away. Instead, she leaned back slightly, her gaze lingering on the scars and bruises that marred his skin.

"Fetch the ointment," she called over her shoulder. A maid appeared moments later, bowing low before handing her a small jar of salve.

Sofia waved the girl away before turning back to Viktor, who had wrapped a towel loosely around his waist. He stood near the fire now, his back to her as he rubbed at his damp hair with another cloth.

"Come," she said, her tone soft but commanding. "Sit, and let me tend to you."

Viktor hesitated for a moment before lowering himself onto a chair by the hearth. Sofia approached with the ointment, her movements slow and deliberate. She knelt beside him, dipping her fingers into the jar and warming the salve between her palms.

Her touch was gentle as she began to apply the ointment to the worst of his bruises. "You fight like a madman," she said quietly, her fingers moving over his shoulder. "Do you ever consider that the kingdom needs you alive?"

He grunted in response, his jaw tight.

Sofia's lips twitched into a faint smirk, but she didn't press him further on the matter. Instead, her hands worked deftly, moving to a cut near his ribs. As she worked, her tone grew more conversational.

"You've been avoiding her, you know."

Viktor's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

"Your new bride," Sofia continued, her voice dripping with feigned innocence.

He stiffened under her touch, his hands clenching into fists.

"Have you not yet bedded her?" she asked, her tone turning playful. "It is quite the scandal, you know. The court whispers about it endlessly."