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The Silver Princess
A Quiet Devil

A Quiet Devil

Duke Damocles, the sole holder of that title, occupied a position akin to the leader of Sylphrena's nobility. He wielded influence and power that rivaled some of the most prominent figures in the kingdom, standing shoulder to shoulder with the pope and the leaders of an organization known as the Explorers — a brave group that dared to venture into the ominous Forest of Nightmare, a place encircling all the kingdoms and shrouded in tales of horror. Within its depths, numerous monstrous creatures and beasts were said to dwell, giving rise to countless songs, plays, and stories that told of this enigmatic and terrifying realm.

The duke's authority loomed large, but Rina had little insight into his true goals, nor did she particularly desire to uncover them. The aura he exuded was indomitable, commanding the respect and space of those around him as if an invisible dome surrounded the man. Rina's deep obsidian eyes were irresistibly drawn to the palpable force of his presence.

His attire was both formal and opulent. He had chosen a black tailcoat that billowed behind him like the wings of a bat, paired with a crisp white shirt and a white bowtie peeking out from behind a tightly cinched waistcoat.

The trousers and tailcoat matched in the purest shade of black, absorbing light rather than reflecting it. Rina couldn't help but notice the silver cufflinks on his wrist, crafted in the likeness of a predatory animal's eye — the emblem of his house.

Despite his authority, influence, and wealth, there remained a single element that would have elevated his status to its zenith: royal power. Duke Damocles was a noble, a descendant of Sylphrena's fourth ruler, Rina's great-great-grandmother. She had boldly defied royal law by bearing more than one child.

The siblings of the fifth king, driven by frustration and resentment over their circumstances, bestowed upon themselves the title of "noble."

This newfound distinction elevated them from the ranks of commoners, though it fell short of the resplendent status of true royalty. From that point forward, tensions flared between the royal house and the nobility, sparking conflicts that extended to involve various other influential factions.

Politics are truly horrifying; I would rather walk into that forest than listen to another ramble of Diana.

The corners of Rina's lips threatened to twitch as she mused silently, her thoughts briefly drifting to her royal tutor, Diana, who possessed an insatiable passion for political intricacies.

Diana had instilled within Rina a comprehensive understanding of her kingdom's history, including the most significant dates and events spanning the past millennium since the kingdom's founding. Thus, the origins and ambitions of the nobles were nothing new to her; it was their clandestine machinations that remained veiled in shadows.

As Duke Damocles clasped Rina's delicate hand, she couldn't help but draw a stark comparison between the warmth and boundless affection she felt from her father's touch and the cold, almost lifeless sensation emanating from Damocles.

The duke straightened his tall, slender frame, towering over the princess. He presented an image of elegant austerity, though what lay beneath his luxurious silk attire remained an enigma. His raven-black hair, neatly trimmed, bore silvery-gray streaks at the sides, hinting at the passage of time and adding an air of distinguished maturity.

While Rina could only speculate about Damocles' exact age, what she knew for certain was that his face defied categorization. His countenance held a frigid detachment, reminiscent of winter's snow gradually accumulating on the frozen ground.

Rina understood the need to conceal one's emotions beneath a mask of indifference, but it left her wondering how many layers of secrecy lay beneath his pallid skin. This sense of otherworldliness deepened as he advanced towards her, locking their gazes in an unyielding hold.

His eyes, like hers, were dark, yet unlike the comforting familiarity of her own reflection in a mirror, his gaze was veiled, concealing depths, secrets, and thoughts.

People often said that eyes were windows to the soul, but his were more akin to an obsidian fortress wall, preventing any glimpse of his innermost self.

What are you hiding?

Rina couldn't help but ponder. Whatever Damocles had in mind; she had an unsettling feeling that she would become irrevocably entangled in his plans.

The cadence shifted, propelling the melody forward with lively momentum, and Rina found herself gracefully led by the mysterious Duke. Once again, she followed his lead with ease, just as she had done with her father. Rigorous physical training had molded her young body, granting her the endurance to dance longer than the ball could test her.

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The energy she would have otherwise expended on managing her breathing rhythm and maintaining focus on the dance steps was now channeled into crafting and rejecting numerous theories and hypotheses regarding Damocles' intentions.

Was he simply seduced by my beauty? Did he just seek amusement?... No, Rina be serious!

She silently chastised herself.

What would a duke, who typically cared little for a small princess and had many agendas and schemes to run, be doing here? In most circumstances, he would make a brief appearance as a customary formality and then concoct a plausible excuse to depart.

Her thoughts churned like a grinding mill, her head almost spinning with them, threatening to overheat and emit smoke from the strenuous contemplation. She yearned for a hint, something to guide her thoughts in the right direction.

But where? ... Where can I find that clue?

While twirling under her dance partner's guidance, 'Midnight Elegance' unfurled its layers like waves on a stormy sea, keeping pace with the quickening melody. Then, amidst the swirling dance and the effects of her enchanting gown, she caught sight of a familiar silhouette.

Glancing discreetly in the direction of that silhouette, positioned at the back of the surrounding guests, she spotted silver hair gracing a noble crown and a set of facial features strikingly similar to her own, save for the vivid blue eyes beneath arched brows—reminiscent of her father's. It was Remian, her elder brother, attentively observing her. That ... left her baffled.

Nothing makes sense! Damocles should never have invited me to dance, and Remian has never attended one of my birthday parties before.

It was a perplexing puzzle, and Rina was certain neither Damocles nor Remian were known for changing their intentions out of kindness on her birthday. They always adhered to their agendas.

They...

A chilling notion pierced her thoughts. What if these two peculiar occurrences were connected somehow? She desperately tried to dismiss the thought, but it clung to her mind like an unwelcome guest.

Rina knew she was still missing a crucial piece of the puzzle. During their dance, she made every effort to steal glimpses of her brother, attempting to discern his motives more clearly.

Then, a fleeting opportunity presented itself as the music's tempo and their steps decelerated. It was at that moment that she witnessed an unusual sight—Remian was smiling, a grin full of delight and schadenfreude.

He never smiles. The one thing that could make him happy was... the throne... and that was taken from him by father... and me...unless...

A gradual realization began to dawn upon her. What could bring joy to the false crown prince and prompt the appearance of the sole duke at this celebration? It had to be the throne itself, the pinnacle of power. But two obstacles stood in their way: King Urtemis, her father, and Rina herself.

They know that my father's time is drawing near.

She concluded.

So, that leaves only one thing for them to eliminate... The princess. And if that's the case...

Remian told him. Damocles knows!

A dreadful suspicion settled in her mind. Her brother must have divulged her father's intentions for her to inherit the throne to Duke Damocles, a fact that should have been announced no less than two years from today. Somehow, they had reached an agreement—an arrangement that undoubtedly spelled a sinister fate for her.

Rina's gaze shifted back to her dancing partner, and she swore she witnessed something impossible. Damocles' lips moved, just the faintest twitch, but she was certain she hadn't imagined it. Although it was the subtlest of shifts, the corner of his mouth curled upward.

As she looked up, her eyes met once more with those two shrouded orbs of darkness—this time, they seemed to beckon her. Only for Rina to be met with instant regret for locking her gaze with him. What she saw in the duke's eyes invoked one singular sensation - fear. Damocles regarded her as if she were not a young girl but a lamb ready for slaughter.

Struggling to regain her composure, Rina tried her best to conceal her turmoil behind the mask of a cold, beautiful, and distant princess.

But cracks had formed on the layer of ice that was her face. Her trembling lips and pallid complexion were enough for the duke to deduce her thoughts. Rina was not versed in these silent battles of the mind; she was still too young to contend with someone of Duke Damocles' stature.

At that moment, she felt like she had already lost. She hadn't foreseen the duke's arrival, her brother's role, or the machinations of those who sought her downfall. How could she have?

What are they planning to do with me?... Remian, you traitor!...

From fear of the unknown to seething anger toward her own sibling, Rina ran through a palette of emotions that changed with each passing note of the melody. She wanted to stop, to distance herself, but it was as if she were caught in a curse, unable to break free. Damocles held her in an iron grip.

Is this the end of me? Will it happen today on my birthday?

If she had remained composed, Rina might have realized that under these circumstances, no harm would befall her. Yet Rina was anything but calm, the pre-party jitters, the sudden appearance of Damocles, and the treacherous smirk of Remian drove the young girl to the brink of despair. The notion that the two of them were plotting something sinister pushed her over the edge.

I have to escape.

Her instincts roared to life. Sweat beads formed all over her body, particularly in her palms where they seemed to freeze upon contact with the duke's icy grip.

Rina's eyes, dark and dilated, were wide with fear, akin to those of prey ensnared by a predator's clutches. The princess' once graceful steps had devolved into stumbling, her movements erratic, almost causing her to trip over herself.

Then, like a merciful reprieve, the music ceased. The dance had ended. Rina collapsed to her knees the second the duke released her. In an instant, concerned guests surrounded her, and Damocles vanished as mysteriously as he had appeared.

This man had caused the young Princess of Sylphrena to experience a mental breakdown with nothing more than a gaze and a faint smile. He didn't even deem it necessary to utter a word to her.

Rina had made her decision. She had to flee.