The cleansing ritual took longer than usual, the crimson evidence stubborn against my alabaster skin. My temper simmered, hotter than the cascading water, as I prepared for the inevitable confrontation. I adorned myself with care: hair meticulously styled, eyes outlined in the darkest kohl, lips painted a vivid crimson—a reminder of the day's earlier violence.

I stood before my wardrobe, my disdain for the uniform and the innocence of white now palpable. Half my closet lay discarded, dresses included—rejected for their association with his preferences. Red, too, was forsaken; if recognition in Athran required such a crutch, I should let Stephan reclaim our sovereignty and etch our visages into memory. I settled on black, the colour of my mood, and teal, the essence of the South—my attire a silent testament to my resolve.

Navigating the castle's stony labyrinth, flanked by guards as if I were the intruder, stoked the flames of my indignation. I knew these halls better than their new master, having wandered them before Edgar's banners claimed them as his own.

At the chamber's threshold, I dismissed the guards' formalities with a gesture, the door yielding to my will. Inside, the austere grey stone was softened by sunlight, the mountain view muted but still majestic. The room's warmth did little to thaw my cool reception.

Steven, propped casually against the table, was in the company of a young woman in yellow, her dress adorned with black leather Athran's frivolous buckles. Their proximity irked me, their laughter even more so.

"An! You're back early," Steven greeted, making no move to distance himself from his companion. Her beauty was undeniable, yet it seemed her sole attribute, much like her father—ever-present yet contributing little of substance. “this is-”

"Pelletier's daughter, Lady Jossellin," I interjected, sparing Steven the formality of introductions. Her deference was fleeting, her attention quickly returning to him, though his focus had shifted.

"Do you know my father well?" she inquired, her voice echoing her father's sycophantic tones.

"Not in the least," I replied, my gaze drifting from her naivety to meet Steven's eyes. "I've often pondered how he retained his title and lands after pledging fealty to the Nobles. We adhere to stricter standards in the South," I mused, my words laced with implication. In their youth and idealism, Steven and Jossellin were akin—both untouched by the cynicism that time had woven into my own perspective. "Now, it all begins to make sense."

"Are you trying to imply something?" he asked, a frosty edge to his tone, green eyes piercing me.

"Obviously," I smirked, throwing the blood-stitched documents on the table. "We need to talk, ideally alone.”

He glanced at the folder, its wolf emblem stained red, but it was my gaze he met again, not the papers. Jossellin, rather than recoiling from the macabre sight, drew closer to Steven. "Jossy, we'll talk later," he said, turning his back on her, a clear dismissal. She left without another word.

The door clicked shut, and Steven's attention never wavered from me. The treaty lay forgotten; he waited for my explanation. "I have a feeling your trip didn't go as planned," he ventured with a half-smile.

"I have a feeling," I echoed his words, my voice devoid of warmth, "that you neglected to mention Kuzsi's new allegiance to Athran."

His defence was immediate, even as he attempted to separate the blood-soaked pages. "Is that why you're angry? Because I offered them a better contract?" He paused, looking at his hands, now smeared with blood. "I hope this isn't the blood of one of my people."

"It's your governor's blood," I said flatly, more annoyed by the time it took to cleanse myself than the act itself.

"Did you kill him?" Steven's question was childlike, seeking confirmation of what he already suspected.

"And what would you say if I did?" I shot back, not giving him the chance to answer. "Did you even read the contract? Do you understand what your 'benevolent terms' permit? They chose Athran because now, they can do anything."

"They're bound by the same laws," he insisted, but his defence was weak.

"The same laws?" I scoffed. "You have no idea what goes on there. Have you ever visited? Send someone trustworthy to observe?" His frown deepened, but he remained silent. "They're flouting the supreme law, rejecting the Heirs and the Light. They wear crystals filled with stolen power as if they're trinkets, damnit!"

"Mergo has always been a synonym for the black market. If your family's influence is waning, that's not my concern," he retorted.

"You don't understand. This is your responsibility. Athran, your province, is supposed to submit to the Light," I argued, stepping back to create distance. "You signed it. Swore on it, when you took the crown. Everything that happens there reflects on you." He seemed oblivious to the gravity of the situation. I pulled out a crystal filled with glowing liquid and tossed it onto the table. "Is this yours?" he asked, picking it up with caution.

"No, that's not my fucking crystal," I corrected him as he examined the object with a mix of curiosity and concern. "Damien has its twin. It's a disaster. Utilising crystals for power is one thing, but adorning oneself with them? That's a perversion of their purpose. It's a big fuck you to all the mages or it would be, if one of them parted this practise and report-"

He seemed lost in the dance of light within the crystal, deaf to my words. "Steven?" I called, trying to recapture his attention.

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Realising he was entranced, I reached out and gently extracted the crystal from his hands, concealing it swiftly. "I apologise for not warning you, I should've realised you don't interact with these on a daily basis. Do you grasp the severity of this? Stephan will demand accountability."

Steven's expression shifted from fascination to worry. "I need to speak with him."

"He won't discuss it with you, he—"

"He can't make baseless accusations," Steven interjected, stepping closer as I retreated. "An,"

I shook my head, distancing myself. "He won't accuse without evidence, but—"

"Why should he interfere? Who does he think he is?" Steven cut me off again, his impatience igniting my temper.

"Please, stop interrupting," I requested, stepping back once more. "Stephan leads our family, and by extension, all of this," I gestured around us. "I hold his word above all others. It's the law for both of us. Despite your title, Athran owes a debt to the Heirs, and you're bound by the same rules as I am."

"I really don't understand where you're going with this."

"Steven, extracting even a fraction of someone's power is taboo for many reasons, with agony being just one," I said, pausing with the weight of the subject. "You've breached our agreement. The contract you signed goes against Athran's vow. You're obliged to ensure the east's compliance with the law. Stephan will act on evidence, and it's my duty to find it. If you've endorsed the transgressions in Kuzsi, even unknowingly, I can't shield you."

"I don't need your protection," he retorted, anger flaring.

"You do, more than you know. You're unaware of the implications of a Meeting for you."

"If you think I'd condone any of this, then no further proof is needed," he said, disappointment clouding his eyes. "Your testimony alone will suffice for the First or any other Heir."

I pondered his words. I believed he grasped why power removal was forbidden and that he might have unwittingly signed a dangerous contract. I even thought he might defend his actions to Stephan with earnest arguments. But one question lingered unanswered. "Why didn't Ed warn you?"

"He did, but he wanted me to sign it." My query seemed to unsettle him.

"Why would he want such a thing? He's never risked such contracts himself," I mused aloud. "I need your version of the contract. This one's been rendered useless."

Steven's gaze returned to the ruined documents, their pages fused together, concealing a void. "I'll need a new governor," he stated, his eyes ablaze with fury. "Was it necessary to kill him?"

"You're missing the point—they both violated our laws."

"Both of them?" he asked, shocked. "How many of my people have you killed?"

"The intended governor and his associate. And Jim... he took a councillor's life after she stabbed me, I didn't catch the na-.”

"Are you injured?" he inquired, his proximity suddenly closing in. His eyes scanned me, searching for any sign of harm, though I stood unscathed before him.

"Do I look injured?" I retorted with a sneer. "She attacked me hours ago," I added, as if that should give him a hint. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "I'll need a new uniform, that's all. And your guards? They're unharmed. They surrendered without resistance."

"So you judge guilt based on submission?" he sighed disdainfully. "What exactly transpired, Anie?"

For once, his question rendered me speechless. How to articulate the complexities of duty he should already comprehend?

"My duty is to shield the innocent," I explained with measured words. "It wasn't a whimsical decision. I adhere to our family's established codes. Some offences can be pardoned; others demand a singular retribution. Those two not only deceived me but also lied about this." My gaze bore into his, a mix of anger and resolve. "I won't let you become entangled in this. Just hand over the contract."

"You have no authority over my actions."

"On the contrary, I do. Everyone in Zessa, Athran, and beyond falls under our jurisdiction. Remember?" I vented, my frustration evident. "Belief in our family or the Light is irrelevant. Their will is ours to command, should we choose."

"You cannot strip someone of their free will," he argued, his voice steady against my rising ire. "It's just a tale."

"It's reality, Steven," I countered, the impulse to argue surging within me. If not for the need of the contract, I might have abandoned this futile exchange.

He fails to grasp the truth. To him, I'm but a fortunate heiress, wielding power as if it were a plaything.

"You're wrong. Look at me," I urged, allowing him another moment to study my face. "There's an allure you can't quite place, isn't there? An inner voice compelling you to heed. You felt it with my father, with Damien." His silence and defiant stare spoke volumes. He refused to acknowledge the truth—that his feelings for me were intertwined with an innate reverence he couldn't shake. The same feelings I had, looking into those green eyes. "That voice is inescapable. With Immortality, we wield control over anyone. It becomes a part of us."

"Give me an order, then! Let's conclude this debate!" he exclaimed, his patience worn thin.

Why didn't I? I possessed the power to bend his will, to make him accept my words as truth.

I turned to the window, seeking solace in the tranquil view of the snow-capped mountains. The snowflakes lay side by side, soon to meld into a single entity, yet undisturbed by their fate. They remain, glittering companions in the stillness, awaiting their destiny.

"Why don't you do it?" he asked again, his presence eclipsing the scenic view beyond.

"I can't, and more importantly, I don't want to," I replied, meeting his gaze. His expression softened. "Because if I did, I'd lose your trust."

"You're right," he conceded, a smile breaking through. His fingers brushed my cheek, tugging gently at a loose strand of hair. "I'd like to believe that my love for you is my own choice, not something compelled."

"Doesn't it frighten you, the thought that I could wield such control over you?"

"Not in the slightest. I know you won't," he said with certainty.

His unwavering trust caught me off guard, prompting an eye roll and a reluctant embrace. "Just hand over the contract, so I can resolve this mess, Atwell."

"And have you vanished once more with my compliance? Leaving me alone and clueless, I think not," he retorted playfully.

"Must you always negotiate?" I sighed, though his smile was infectious. "What's your counteroffer, Your Majesty?"