The Death of a Tyrant's Concubine

CHAPTER 37 - Hate Me, Please

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【𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐉𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐄】

I stared at Sylvos' hand on my leg before shifting a bit further away on the bed. He glanced down at his palm before returning his gaze to me.

I couldn't allow the mood to get too comfortable...

Perhaps, if I spoke long enough, I could bore him to sleep.

Confident in my plan, I took a sip of wine and sank into the cushions, my sheer lavender gown spilling around me.

"L-like I said, everyone dances in their own way," I continued. "My eldest sister, Claude, follows the routine perfectly. But her dance is more like a military drill than an art. Her movements are too rigid to master the dance's final form."

"The final form? Is that what you performed today with the lightning?" Sylvos asked.

"Yes," I admitted. "But it's not a common skill. Even summoning rain and wind is only possible because of the storm-forged daggers I use. Some can call forth fog or frost. My grandmother had a blade that could summon a rainbow." I allowed myself a small, wistful smile. "She gave that one to Skye."

"Skye is your younger sister?" he asked, tilting his head as he studied me.

I nodded, unable to suppress the warmth that filled me at the thought of her.

"She's impossible to contain. Wild and free in a way that makes you envy her. She barely follows the dance routine at all. I doubt she'll ever have the discipline to master its final form."

"One sister is too disciplined, and the other too wild. Which does the dance prefer?" he asked. His voice was soft and probing, as though my answer truly mattered to him.

I hesitated, staring into the depths of my wine. The flickering firelight painted the room in warm shadows, softening the harsh lines of his crown. For a fleeting moment, he seemed less like a ruler and more like a man waiting for a story.

"Both," I said finally. "You need to find the balance. I just happen to be good at that."

Sylvos smiled, not his usual smug grin, but something softer.

"I love the look in your eyes when you speak of your home. Do you miss it?"

"Very much," I admitted quietly.

"I suppose if I offered to conquer it for you and place it in your hands, you'd deny me?" Sylvos asked.

I scoffed, meeting his black gaze.

"My protests wouldn't matter, would they? Regardless of this betrothal, you'll take Drakfjord anyway. Won't you?"

Even if I didn't seek vengeance... If I forgot about everything and tried to live a different life, Sylvos would wage war on my home. Whatever choices I have made, coming to Thornmont has always been my only option.

"I wish to seize the storm sword," Sylvos admitted, his voice quiet but resolute. "Do not worry though. I promise to be gentle with your people."

My eyes narrowed.

"Perhaps you are the one that should worry, Your Majesty. I cannot promise that my people will return your gentle conquest."

That provoked a grin from him, sharp and gleaming, like the thorns that adorned his attire.

"If Drakfjord is anything like its princess, I'd expect nothing less," he smirked.

I sighed, my gaze dropping to the empty goblet in my hands.