Jovine crumpled to the ground, her knees withering from the shock.

Elias caught her with ease.

“H-haven,” she whispered in mortification. Jovine clutched her brother’s arm with an iron grip. “W-what have they done to it?”

She felt his hard glance branding the side of her face. “You tell me.”

Trembling, Jovine slowly turned to him in anger. “Are you implying I was a part of this?”

“I suspected it.” Elias curled his lips in deranged entertainment. “But you really didn’t know.”

Jovine shoved him away, anger bubbling in her veins. “WHAT. HAPPENED. HERE?”

“Look around, darling sister. I think you can figure it out.”

It was marked and unmistakeable.

Amid the scattered debris, renovation arrangements were embedded in the loss. As if someone had broken Haven just to piece her together into something unknowable.

Haven had been sold. And placed into the profit pockets of a noble.

“Where are the children? The families?” she whispered.

“Most likely sold. Or indentured.”

Jovine closed her eyes, reigning in the insurmountable wave of guilt and despair. “Who?” she seethed, her eyes traveling through the crumbling bricks and wooden shards. Who did this? Who now owned the place that belonged to the people?

“Harrison Ballio.”

She froze, her eyes shooting open. “Harrison Ballio is a powerless Lord.”

Elias scoffed. “He’s a Baron now. With an elevated status and the Emperor’s favor, you can imagine how simple it was to obtain a place like this.”

No…

A faint recollection of her Coronation suddenly came to mind.

“Emperor’s favor…” Jovine’s words trailed off, unable to admit what she already speculated.

Elias grasped her arm again, turning her to face him. She met his stormy eyes. “Who do you think Harrison Ballio brought to the Capital all those months ago?”

She bit her inner cheeks.

“Who do you think brought Emilia Syrene?” he sneered, his fingers digging into her arm.

The sight of her brother’s distress overcame her initial shock. His body quivered violently. The once-familiar look of his savage blood-thirst shined through his glazed eyes. Jovine grasped his shoulder, ignoring the burning pain from his strengthening grip.

“Elias,” she called gently.

When a twisted smirk lifted the sides of his face, panic surged through her veins. If she lost him to his shadowed mind, she didn’t know when he’d be back again.

“Elias. Don’t give in to it.”

His face dropped. His eyes cleared. Pushing her away, he swiftly turned. Jovine watched his shoulders heave in harsh, panting breaths as he brought his dagger out. A low grunt sounded before he faced her again with a bleeding palm.

Her heart shattered. She wanted to rush to him and embrace away the darkness he always felt. But he’d refuse her. He always had.

Casually wiping his hand against his trousers, he blankly asked, “Do you recall it now?”

Jovine clenched her jaw. She did.

On the night of her Coronation, when she had danced with Richard, Lord Ballio had proposed a gift. A singer. Emilia Syrene.

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Elias continued. “Think about it, Vinnie. The man who introduced that wretched girl to the Capital is now a Baron with Haven under his hands and his seal on the coins wagering for the Throne. Under what circumstance would an Emperor allow such foolish treachery?”

Jovine shook her head. It didn’t make sense. No matter how enamored Richard was, she couldn’t believe a man who always guarded his feelings would allow them to overtake his authority. His pride itself wouldn’t allow such privilege for a Lord he barely tolerated.

“Your weakness remains in that small part of you that still believes he’ll come back,” Elias said.

“I don’t —”

“You don’t even know it, but you still want to save him. Deep down, where your secrets are buried and for reasons I truly cannot fathom, you still love him. Stop ruining yourself, Jovine. If you refuse to strike, it’ll be you buried in the dirt. If you won’t see blood, they’ll leave you to die in your own puddle.”

Jovine choked on her breaths. She had lived it already. Had died at Emilia’s hands and bled out as her husband held the woman who ended her.

Was there no longer a line for her to cross? Was Elias right?

“I won’t kill,” Jovine muttered.

“Jovine —”

She stared him down. “There are worse things than death.”

His eyes twitched.

“Death is too quick. Too final. Too merciful. I want their pain to go beyond something so simple. I don’t want physical ruin. I want absolute torment. Their mind, their emotions, their spirit — I want to rip it all away. You of all people should know just how frightful such a fate is.”

A purely malicious, delighted smile spread across her brother’s face.

Jovine extended her hand. “Give me the coins.”

He threw them for her into the air. Catching them, she looked down at the two seals. The petals of the Columbine Flower blinked up at her in gold.

“Amon Vel Feyras,” she started. “How active is he in this wager?”

Elias raised a brow. “From what I’ve gathered, the Grand Duke has declined any role or action in his name. He’s kept himself away from it all.”

“But people are still flocking to him?”

“They believe he’s worth something more than he’s letting on. And I suspect he’s made his first move.”

“Move?”

He scoffed. “Every refusal was backed with his imminent departure from the Capital. Yet, he’s decided to stay for reasons unknown.”

Jovine swallowed. The glint in Amon Vel Feyras’s eyes when they bid farewell touched her mind. “I see.”

“Why do you ask?” Elias ventured.

He wanted to know her path. And although she had settled her resolve, a lingering sense of insistence pulled at her strings.

Jovine looked back at Haven, fury climbing up her throat until she had to swallow back the bile. “Give me until morning,” she told Elias. “I have one last thing to confirm.”

----------------------------------------

Emperor Richard de Tristaine squinted against the glaring sunlight and the sharp call of birds twittering outside his chamber windows. Clutching the cup of coffee a maid had left on his desk, he slowly sipped on the steaming, bitter liquid as he leaned back on his chaise. When a trickle of his drink seeped down his chin and onto his suit lapels, he cursed under his breath.

Reaching into his inner pockets, his fingers dug for his handkerchief. When nothing caught in his grasp, the irritating fact reminded him again.

He had given it to Jovine. For the wound he found himself wondering about, he had wrapped a piece of cloth that should have meant nothing.

Yet he found it strangely empty to be apart from it.

He was sure Jovine would have used it as an excuse to come see him. In fact, he’d been looking forward to that timid smile she always gave him when she happened upon his path. Because he knew she always waited for even a glimpse of his face.

But Jovine never came.

Four days, and nothing from his wife.

Richard had received all news of the Inner Palace through written reports instead of her physical presence, and when he had even shown at the meals she always attended, Jovine wasn’t there.

Pride stopped him from marching over to demand why she was acting like a stranger. Jovine was different. The way she looked at him no longer held affection. Instead, it overflowed in venom and hate.

Richard loosened the buttons of his tunic, surprisingly feeling strangled from the thought.

He told himself it was an act she was putting on to gain his interest. He convinced himself the only reason he wanted to see her was to get that damned handkerchief back.

But the unpleasant twist in his gut told him something he couldn’t understand yet.

Thoughts of his wife plagued him as they had been for the past few days, when Lord Maximus entered his chambers with his head bowed.

Richard glanced at the man. “You’re late.”

“My apologies, Your Majesty.”

Richard looked away, attempting to bask in the morning peace before Maximus piled him with papers he didn’t want to look over.

“Your Majesty,” Maximus called.

“Not now.”

“The Empress is here to see you.”

Richard straightened, swiftly turning around. “The Empress?”

“Yes, she has requested an audience with you.”

Richard smirked in triumph. He knew she would eventually give in. “Let her in.”

He settled back comfortably, picking up a random book to appear disinterested. But at the sound of her clicking heels and the sight of her swaying hips, his eyes traveled up her blue satin gown in appreciation.

“What is it, Jovine?” he asked in a particularly bland tone as he flipped through the pages.

She stopped at his desk, and before he could look into that lovely face of hers, a dense collection of Imperial Records slammed onto the wooden surface. Flinching back from the force, Richard glanced up into the fuming eyes of his wife.

“You scoundrel,” she spat in rage. “What have you done?”