The new prison cell was way better than the last. Her chains were longer and she was given a bed with proper water source at one corner of the area.
The door behind her slammed shut, but it didn't bother her a single second.
With a deep breath, she stepped towards the bed and sat down.
"Puppet." She whispered. Her voice slightly raspy from all the things she had to go through since morning. It was kind of exhausting to know only one part of the plan had been successful until now.
The tiny wolf popped out of the air and settled down onto the bed beside her. "Wow. This is so much better honestly."
Then, as if realizing something, Puppet shook its fluffy head. Its tiny ears pushed all the way back as it scampered across the coarse blanket to pat her knee with a paw.
"Better? Aefia, they locked you right back up!" the little wolf squeaked, crossing its arms with a exaggerated pout that made its nose wrinkle. "And after you put on that gorgeous navy gown and spent all that time with the teardrop pins! Now you are in a white dress in a slightly cleaner stone box!"
"I thought you knew?" She offered a smile, tilting her eyebrow at the little pet.
"The dress served its purpose, Puppet," she murmured softly, her crimson eyes staring thoughtfully up at the high, vaulted ceiling. "The court saw a Sovereign walking to the block in full royal grandeur. They saw the late King swing his own blade into Daphne's illusion. And now... they see Kazimir sitting on a blood-stained throne with a crown he didn't earn, pretending he is the one steering the realm."
Puppet hopped up onto her lap, curling its small form against her hands. "He really thought he was so clever, didn't he? Talking all big about how 'arrogant' you are, acting like he trapped you! It made my tiny stomach turn!"
A thin, barely perceptible smile touched the corner of Aefia's lips. She gently stroked the soft crimson fur of the plushy's head with her thumb, the iron links of her cuffs clinking softly together in the quiet cell.
"Let him enjoy his victory speech," she whispered, her voice cool, steady, and devoid of the slightest trace of panic. "He needed to feel like he won today. A prince who believes he outsmarted a Guardian is a prince who stops looking over his shoulder."
She shifted slightly, resting her head comfortably against the wall. The cell was silent—save for the slow drip of water from the basin in the corner and the faint rustle of her white dress.
"And his unawareness if the environment is exactly what I need to move to the next phase of the plan..."
The air here lacked the rot and damp misery of the lower dungeons; Kazimir had given her a room fit for a high-value political prisoner awaiting a grand trial—entirely unaware that he had just handed her a quiet, comfortable vantage point to watch his court unravel.
"He thinks he locked a traitor in a cellar," Aefia murmured, closing her eyes as a deep, patient breath settled in her chest. "He doesn't realize he just brought the trial right to his own doorstep today."
Puppet snuggled closer against her side, letting out a soft, contented sigh. "So... what do we do now?"
"Now?" Aefia opened one crimson eye, looking toward the heavy iron door where the faint footsteps of the outer guards echoed down the clean stone corridor. "We wait for the ministers to realize that a liar's throne is always built on crumbling stone."
"And how will you know when that is?"
"I have set up traps. When I headed out for the execution, I had sent multiple different butterflies to survey the area and then implanted them onto trees. People pass by now and then. Rumors will start to go through if one noble speaks up. That is all I need. It would be the perfect first step to the third phase... Don't you think?"
"Yeah... No. I don't." Puppet shook its head. "Even if you are certain that the ministers and nobles are going to be suspicious from this day on, you will come to realize that they are also thinking of you as their disadvantages too. I think it is because you have grown to be accustomed to having things go mostly your way... But consider alternatives from now on... We both know the next step is going to be more brutal and more dangerous then the last.
"You don't really have a clean record anymore. And your reputation had hit rock bottom. Even as an Imperial Crown Princess, people will only see the actions you have caused. And besides... You should be worried about your identity as a Guardian and the third Aethalgard being revealed to the public. You are picking up on useless penalties."
What Puppet said, had actually been the truth. But still...
Fearing she may be mad at it, Puppet slowly looked up with a face of pure innocence.
"I understand then... We shall go as you have said." Aefia simply offered a smile and held out her hand for it to snuggle onto.
"You are not going to scold me? I pointed out your wrongs. You aren't used to it."
"Who said?" She tilted her head. "Besides... You should correct me even more from now on. I believe making mistakes can teach you lessons. And I want to make sure I don't commit mistakes like the ones I had. And honestly? I am happy you actually did that."
"Really?"
"Did you really think I was going to be narcissistic and say 'no, I know I am definitely right and none of what you said is going to come true'?" She asked, slowly standing up from the bed. "Doesn't that sound way out of character? I feel like those words are strange in my own tongue."
Puppet stared in silence. Then let out a soft laugh of relief.
"Honestly, yeah," Puppet admitted, its ears twitching as it let out a breathy giggle. "It sounded so weird when I was worrying about it! I thought you were gonna go full grand-villain on me for a second."
Aefia walked slowly toward the small, high window of the cell where faint shafts of pale afternoon light filtered through the thick iron grates. Her white midi-skirt swept over the clean stone floor without making a sound.
"I am a Guardian, Puppet, not a tyrant with a fragile ego," Aefia said, looking out at the distant, jagged mountain peaks surrounding the capital. The cool draft from the window fluttered the stray strands of dark hair framing her face. "If I refused to listen to criticism, I would be no different than the man sitting on that throne right now—blind to the cracks forming under his own boots."
She lifted her right hand, watching the heavy dark-iron suppression cuffs gleam faintly under the pale light.
"You are right about my reputation," she continued smoothly, her tone measured and analytical. "The public only sees what is laid out before them on the execution stage. To the commoners, I am the Princess who brought blood to the palace gates. To the nobles, I am a volatile variable who broke the King's forty-year hold. Neither side will view me as a savior—and I never expected them to."
Puppet floated up off the bed, hovering near her shoulder like a tiny crimson cloud, its small paws tucked neatly beneath its chest.
"So what's the actual backup if the nobles decide to unite against both you and Kazimir?" the little wolf asked, tilting its head. "If they view you as a threat to the entire Mides territory's stability, they won't just whisper about Kazimir's lies. They will try to erase you completely before the trial even begins."
Aefia didn't turn around, but the faint, cold curve returned to her lips.
"Then let them try," she murmured softly. "A quiet room with longer chains and clean water isn't a prison, Puppet. It's an audience chamber. Kazimir thinks he isolate me here to keep the court quiet, but every hour I remain alive in these deep wards is proof to the ministers that his 'absolute authority' is nothing more than a fragile front."
She gently reached out, letting Puppet rest back onto her palm as she turned toward the heavy iron door.
"They won't come to kill me yet," Aefia added, her crimson eyes glowing with quiet, unwavering clarity. "They will come to negotiate. And when the first minister sneaks down these stairs to offer a silent bargain... that is when the third phase truly begins."
Though she said that... She had thoughts of something else happening of course.
***
Puppet floated down from her palm, perching lightly on the edge of the wooden bed frame. "Thoughts of something else? Like what?"
Aefia didn't answer right away. She walked back toward the bed, the iron links of her suppression cuffs clinking rhythmically against the stone. Crouching beside the frame, she reached into the thin space beneath the mattress and pulled out a small, folded piece of parchment and a charcoal pencil—smuggled into her sleeve during the chaos on the scaffold.
Puppet hopped down onto the stone beside her, resting its paws on the edge of the paper as she began to draw a neat, intricate network of lines and names. "So he's going to skip the court games and go straight for an shortcut?"
"Precisely," Aefia said, her hand moving with swift, practiced precision. "If he can't rely on the nobles, he will look for an absolute leverage that forces them into submission regardless of their doubts. And the only thing in this castle that holds absolute weight..."
She stopped to think for herself.
"He saw what happened on the block," Aefia whispered, tracing an unconscious dark circle around Kazimir's name on the parchment. "Of course he could see the devil duplicate walk through steel. He saw my magic rewrite an execution in broad daylight. A man like Kazimir doesn't see that and think 'I should be careful.' He sees it and thinks 'I want that for myself.'"
"Aefia... he might try to take your magic—" Puppet started, but stopped abruptly.
Aefia's hand froze mid-stroke. Her head snapped toward the heavy iron door of the cell.
Far down the clean stone corridor, past the outer guard posts, a single pair of footsteps was approaching. They were unhurried, measured, and entirely unescorted.
Without a word, Aefia swept the parchment and charcoal pencil back under the mattress in a single fluid motion. Puppet dissolved into thin air.
She stood up, smoothing out the front of her white midi-skirt, and stepped back until she was standing near the foot of the bed in a posture of quiet, respectful submission—her hands folded neatly over her dark-iron cuffs, her head slightly bowed.
The heavy lock clicked. The iron door groaned open on oil-slicked hinges.
Kazimir stepped into the cell alone. He had shed his heavy velvet cloak and the blood-stained royal robes, now dressed in a tailored midnight-blue tunic. In his right hand, tucked casually between his long fingers, he held a sleek, clear glass syringe with a long, silver needle gleaming faintly under the torchlight.
He closed the door behind him with a soft thud, looking around the clean stone room with a faint, polite smile.
"Comfortable, Princess?" Kazimir asked softly, his tone warm and gentle, as if he were visiting an old friend in a guest parlor rather than a prisoner in the deep wards. "I ensured the warden gave you the upper suite. Clean linen, fresh water... far better than the damp pit you inhabited last month, wouldn't you agree?"
"Your Highness is far too generous," Aefia replied smoothly, her voice flat, devoid of sarcasm or warmth. She didn't raise her eyes to meet his. "Though I doubt you walked all the way down here merely to inquire about my sleeping arrangements."
Kazimir let out a low, pleasant chuckle, stepping closer until he stood just a few feet away from her. He held up the glass syringe, turning it between his fingers so the light caught the hollow tip of the needle.
"Always straight to the point," he murmured. "I admire that about you, Aefia. No wasted words. So let us not waste time."
His smile vanished, replaced by an expression of cold, clinical resolve.
"Kneel."
Aefia didn't move immediately. Her crimson eyes lifted, locking directly onto his face. "And if I refuse?"
"You won't," Kazimir said softly, his voice dropping into a quiet, lethal register. "Because if I have to call the six elite guards waiting outside that door to force you down, they won't be gentle with those healed ribs of yours. Save yourself the indignity, Princess. Kneel."
Aefia stared at him for three long, suffocating seconds. Then, slowly and deliberately, she lowered herself to her knees on the cold stone floor. The white fabric of her skirt spreading around her like a pool of frost. She kept her head straight, her gaze fixed on him without a single flicker of fear.
Kazimir stepped forward, crouching down beside her. He reached out with his free hand, gripping her right forearm with a firm, unyielding pressure, pulling her arm forward so her pale wrist rested across his knee. The iron suppression cuff hummed uselessly against her skin.
"Do you know what this is?" Kazimir asked gently, pressing the tip of the silver needle against the soft skin inside her elbow.
"A tool for a coward who cannot build his own strength," Aefia spat, her jaw clenching as she glared straight into his eyes.
Kazimir didn't flinch at the insult. In fact, his smirk widened slightly as he drove the needle smoothly into her vein.
She gasped—a sharp, involuntary hitch in her chest as the cold steel pierced her skin. It was not unfamiliar... But it still felt that way.
"Call it what you wish," Kazimir whispered, his thumb pressing back on the plunger, pulling the clear glass cylinder back. "Your magic and its elements are vast, Aefia. Too vast for a disgraced princess rotting in a cell. My father tried to cultivate dark magic for four decades to reach the pinnacle, but he was foolish. Why spend so many years training when one of the most purest, most refined essence in the continent is sitting right here in front of me?"