«CHAPTER 33&34»
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Silence settled over the arena as Thailra's words hung in the air like a blade suspended mid-fall.
The request was not shouted.
It was not spoken in anger.
But the weight of it pressed against the crowd's chest like approaching storm clouds.
Beside her, Duncan remained seated, his expression calm, almost detached, though his fingers stopped tapping the armrest.
Below, Prince Kealric did not answer immediately.
The wind carried the scent of blood from the fallen beast. The sand of the arena was still disturbed where the wild boar had collapsed.
Arabella shifted slightly beside him, her eyes lowered. The princesses on the royal tier exchanged brief, uneasy glances.
Then Kealric spoke.
"We are travelers," he said evenly. His voice carried clearly despite the distance. "Wandering workers who sought employment in the southern trade routes."
He paused. "Our village… no longer exists,your highness"
The answer was simple,controlled, carefully shaped, but it was not entirely truth.
Thailra's gaze sharpened faintly.
The aura surrounding him did not resemble that of a displaced villager. Instead, it carried the restrained discipline of someone trained to survive violence — the bearing of a warrior.
Judging by the fearless way he carried his thoughts, he was likely attempting to act boldly before them to avoid suspicion. Something was undoubtedly amiss between the two of them.
A soft wind brushed past her hair.
Behind her, Duncan's expression reJmained unchanged.
The wind moved slowly across the golden sand, carrying with it the faint metallic scent of blood and something far older — something buried beneath the stone foundations of Thailra's memory.
Her gaze did not soften.
Instead, it grew deeper.
"Tell me," she said quietly, her voice colder than the desert night winds of Ashkaroth, "if your village is truly gone…" She paused, studying Prince Kealric's face carefully.
"Then why do your eyes carry the discipline of soldiers who have marched through war?"
A heavier silence followed, the crowd did not speak. Even the royal princesses leaned slightly forward, sensing the shift in atmosphere.
Kealric did not respond immediately.
Arabella's fingers tightened almost imperceptibly at her side. Above them, Duncan Tharagon slowly turned his silver gaze back toward the arena floor.
Thailra continued.
"One does not learn such movement patterns by carrying wine jars, "Her voice dropped a little.
"I will ask again, traveler." Her eyes sharpened. "Which war taught you to fight like a trained blade hiding inside a worker's skin?"
The question was not loud.
But it was darker. More dangerous. The wind stopped. Kealric's jaw tightened faintly.
After a heartbeat that felt far longer, he spoke.
"Some men are forged in battle," he said. "Others are forced to learn survival before they are given a name."
He lifted his gaze slowly.
"My lady seeks origin, but origin is not always a place that wishes to be remembered." A faint murmur spread through the royal stands.
"Have we met before?" Thailra asked, her eyes remaining fixed on him.
Silence followed.
His fists tightened subtly, a movement Duncan noticed. A faint smirk formed on Duncan's lips, slowly deepening.
Arabella swallowed hard, and Duncan observed it as well, his smirk growing darker with quiet amusement.
The silence itself seemed to carry the answer.
So the man — the so-called laborer — truly knew her.
Another fool to deal with.
How could destiny grant him such a life?
First the Ice Prince, and now a laborer.
Or was he truly who he claimed to be?
He tapped his fingers repeatedly, his lips curving as though lost in deep, dark calculations.
So many obstacles to remove, so many trashes to clear. At the royal tier, Princess Cassandra tilted her head slightly, her fan moving slower than before.
"He knows her," she whispered.
"Look at the way she asked him," Princess Aurelia thought with a quiet scoff. "That expression in her eyes was rather suggestive. They must have shared a one-night encounter. Only he could answer such a question — she was probably intoxicated when it happened."
Aurelia rolled her eyes, sending a sharp, disdainful glance toward Thailra and Duncan.
"Choose your words carefully within this palace, Aurelia. Make certain that what you are about to say truly belongs to the realm of silence here."
Lady Semina's voice was calm but firm.
"If she had truly been intimate with that laborer, the Earth Goddess would not have chosen her as the New Moon of Ashkaroth."
She paused briefly.
"If these words reach Duncan Tharagon's ears, you know the penalty. The last time, he sent you to the cattle dung pit. This time, I fear it may be your grave." Her gaze softened slightly.
"I do not wish to lose any of you. Silence is safer than speaking words that may lead to your own death."
Princess Aurelia rolled her eyes in silent defiance.
Princess Princess Aurelia said nothing at first, only turning her gaze back toward the arena with a faint, stubborn expression.
The warning in Lady Semina's voice had not been lost on her.
She simply refused to show it. After a moment, Helena spoke quietly.
"Mother is right, Aurelia. This palace does not forgive careless tongues."
Aurelia exhaled slowly. "I am merely thinking aloud," she said. "Not accusing anyone."
Cassandra tilted her head slightly, her fan moving with slow elegance.
"Yet thoughts spoken too loudly become accusations inside the Eclipse court."
Aurelia shot her a glare and she immediately looked away.
"You should not have spoken so openly," Arabella said quietly.
Kealric did not answer immediately. His jaw tightened faintly as he felt the weight of the throne's gaze — especially the calculating stillness of Duncan Tharagon watching them.
After a moment, Kealric spoke.
"I did not speak carelessly."
Arabella exhaled softly.
"Then why did she ask if you had met her before?" Silence stretched between them for a heartbeat.
The wind carried faint dust across the arena floor. Kealric's fingers tightened slowly around the spear shaft he carried.
"She is testing memory," he said.
Arabella's eyes darkened slightly. "You think she suspects something?"
"I know she does" Kealric paused, lowering his voice further.
"The Moon is not asking for truth," he continued. "She is searching for cracks."
Arabella frowned faintly.
"And if she finds one?"
Kealric's expression remained cold and controlled.
"Then the palace will decide whether we live long enough to hide the rest."
Arabella swallowed hard, beads of cold sweat forming on her forehead. She wished she could vanish from Ashkaroth and return to Morazana at once to report everything to their mother.
They needed to act quickly before their identities were exposed and their mission was compromised.
Arabella's pulse thundered in her ears as the arena seemed to shrink around them.
Above, the royal tier gleamed beneath the fading sun, gold reflecting off polished marble.
And at its center sat Duncan, watching. Not blinking. Not speaking. Just watching.
Kealric followed her gaze for the briefest second before lowering his eyes again. "Do not look afraid," he murmured under his breath. "Fear invites inspection."
Arabella forced her shoulders to relax, though her palms were damp. "She felt it," she whispered. "When she asked if you had met before… there was something in her eyes."
Kealric's jaw tightened.
High above them, Thailra emained motionless, but something within her had shifted. The question she had asked was not born of suspicion alone.
It had carried confusion.
And something deeper.
A pull.
A familiarity that brushed against the edges of a memory she could not reach.
Kealric saw it.
And that frightened him more than Duncan's stare.
"She does not remember," Arabella breathed. "But her soul does."
The wind stirred again, lifting strands of Thailra's dark hair as though the desert itself whispered secrets to her.
Kealric's fingers flexed subtly.
"If her memories awaken here," he said quietly, "it will not only expose us. It will start a war."
Arabella swallowed. "And if Duncan discovers she once belonged to Morazana?"
Kealric's gaze hardened. "He will never let her leave."
Above, Duncan's smirk deepened faintly, as though he sensed the silent storm brewing below.
Possessiveness flickered in his silver eyes — cold, territorial, dangerous.
Whatever connection lay between the laborer and his bride, he would uncover it.
And when he did— The consequences would not be gentle.
"I will ask again, laborer—have we met before?" Thailra repeated, her voice laced with a chill that seemed to seep into the very air.
Her gaze shifted deliberately between Arabella and Kealric, sharp and piercing, carrying a silent warning beneath its calm intensity.
The arena seemed to hold its breath. Even the wind stilled, as though wary of carrying the wrong answer to the throne.
Below, Prince Kealric slowly lifted his gaze to meet Thailra fully this time, there was no fear in his eyes.
Only restraint, and something dangerously close to grief.
"My lady," he said at last, his voice steady, controlled, "if fate had granted me such fortune, I would not have forgotten it."
A careful answer, neither yes, nor no. A murmur rippled faintly through the stands.
Arabella's fingers curled into her skirts. Too bold, she thought. Too bold.
High above them, Duncan Tharagon's silver gaze sharpened almost imperceptibly. The faint smirk on his lips did not fade—but it changed.
It was no longer amused, it was assessing, Possessive. Thailra's eyes did not leave Kealric's face. Something inside her chest tightened at his words — not because of what he said…
But because of how he said it.
As though he was standing at the edge of something sacred and refusing to step across it.
"Fortune?" she repeated softly. A flicker — quick as lightning — passed through her mind.
A moonlit balcony, a hand brushing hers, a voice whispering her name— the image vanished as quickly as it came.
Her breath faltered for the briefest second.
Duncan noticed, his fingers stopped tapping entirely. The temperature in the royal tier seemed to drop.
"Careful," Duncan's voice finally echoed across the arena, smooth and silken, yet threaded with iron. "The Moon does not enjoy riddles."
His gaze settled on Kealric like a blade resting against skin.
"If you have met my moon before," he continued, rising slowly to his feet, "you will answer plainly."
The word my did not need emphasis.
It was already a warning.
Kealric bowed his head slightly, though his spine remained straight. "I have never stood before her in this life, Your Highness."
In this life.
Arabella's heart nearly stopped.
Thailra's lashes lowered faintly. Duncan's smile deepened — slow and dangerous.
"In this life?" he echoed softly. The arena trembled with unspoken tension.
One wrong word, One misplaced memory.
And blood would stain the sand again — not from beasts this time.
But from secrets refusing to remain buried.
"In this life?" Duncan repeated softly. The faint amusement in his voice vanished entirely. What remained was something colder.
Older.
The torches lining the arena walls flickered violently, though no wind touched them. A shadow stretched unnaturally behind Duncan's throne, lengthening across the marble like a living thing.
Below, Prince Kealric did not move, but Arabella felt it, the shift.
The danger.
Thailra rose fully to her feet. Every noble in the royal tier stood instinctively as well.
"I did not ask about another life," Thailra said quietly. Her voice was calm.
Too calm.
"I asked about this one."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Duncan descended the first step of the royal platform.
Then another.
Each step echoed like a measured countdown.
"You speak as though you are certain there was a before," Duncan continued, his silver gaze never leaving Kealric. "That is a dangerous belief to carry in my kingdom."
Kealric's fingers tightened subtly around the spear shaft.
Arabella's pulse roared in her ears.
"We all have a before," Kealric replied evenly. "Even if we are not permitted to remember it."
The torches dimmed, not extinguished.
Dimmed, A low murmur spread through the court. Duncan stopped halfway down the steps.
"And you presume to speak of what my bride is permitted to remember?" The word permitted struck harder than any blade.
Thailra's chest tightened, a sudden pressure bloomed behind her eyes.
Fragments—.A balcony washed in silver light. A voice calling her not Thailra— But—The image shattered.
Pain lanced through her temple, she inhaled sharply. Duncan was beside her in an instant.
His hand did not touch her. But the air around him coiled protectively, dark energy rippling like restrained fire.
His eyes snapped shut as a sharp pain struck her head.
He saw it—clearly—exactly what Thailra had seen within her mind.
His expression darkened, his thoughts turning cold and dangerous as his gaze slowly shifted toward Kealric.
Duncan's eyes reopened slowly. The silver within them no longer gleamed.
It burned.
He had seen it.
The balcony bathed in moonlight. A masculine silhouette standing far too close to her.
A hand reaching for hers—not as a stranger… but as someone who had once possessed the right. The vision had lasted less than a breath.
But it had been enough.
His gaze shifted toward Prince Kealric. And in that single glance, the arena felt colder.
Kealric did not look away. That, more than anything, sealed it.
Duncan descended the remaining steps with unhurried grace. Each footfall echoed against stone like a verdict approaching.
"You speak of other lives," Duncan said quietly, stopping only a few paces from him. "You speak of memory as though it is yours to guard."
His head tilted slightly. "Tell me, laborer… what gives you such confidence?"
Arabella's breath caught in her throat. Kealric bowed—this time lower.
"Nothing but honesty, Your Highness."
A lie wrapped in composure. Duncan smiled faintly. And then the pressure in the air shifted.
Invisible.
Crushing.
Not enough to harm—But enough to remind.
Kealric's knees threatened to buckle beneath the sudden weight pressing against his shoulders. Arabella gasped softly, feeling it too, though less intensely.
A warning.
Duncan leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper only those nearest could hear.
"You will be very careful," he said. "Because if I discover that you are the reason her mind stirs with things that do not belong to this kingdom…"
His smile thinned. "I will not kill you quickly."
Silence.
Heavy.
Unforgiving.
Above them, Thailra steadied herself, though the lingering ache in her temple had not completely faded.
Why did the image feel warm? Why did it not feel like danger? Her fingers curled slightly at her sides.
"Release him," she said suddenly.
Duncan did not move at first. Then, slowly, the invisible weight lifted.
Kealric inhaled carefully, hiding the strain.
Thailra descended a single step from her place, her gaze searching his face once more.
"If you are lying," she said quietly, "it will surface."
Her voice was not threatening.
It was certain.
"And when it does," she continued, "I will be the one to question you again."
Duncan's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. He did not like that.
Not at all. But he said nothing.
Duncan did not look at Kealric again immediately.
Instead, he turned slowly toward the royal tier, his cloak sweeping behind him like a shadow folding into itself.
"The wild boar is dead," he announced calmly, his voice carrying across the arena without effort. "And Ashkaroth does not ignore skill."
A faint murmur of expectation rippled through the crowd.
Gold.
Land.
Freedom.
That was what warriors usually received for such a kill. But Duncan's expression did not soften.
"However," he continued smoothly, "reward is given according to worth… and trust."
His silver gaze drifted back to Prince Kealric. "You will not receive gold."
The murmurs died instantly.
"You will not leave this palace either."
Arabella's breath caught.
Duncan's lips curved slightly. "From this day forward, you will serve as a guard within Albaton Palace."
Not an honor.
A chain.
"You fight too well to wander the trade routes," Duncan added coolly. "Such talent belongs under my watch."
Kealric understood at once. This was not reward.
It was surveillance.
He bowed stiffly. "As you command, Your Highness."
Duncan's gaze then shifted to Arabella.
"And you."
Her heart slammed violently against her ribs. "You will serve within the palace as well."
Arabella forced herself to lower her head."In what capacity, my lord?"
A faint, knowing pause.
"In the kitchens."
A ripple of surprise passed through the nobles.
"The kitchen post requires diligence," Duncan continued evenly. "You will report at dawn. You will answer to the head steward. And you will not leave your assigned quarters without permission."
A gilded cage.
Separated.
Watched.
Controlled.
Above them, Thailra remained silent, though her fingers tightened faintly at her sides.
Duncan did not miss it.
"This is generous," he added, his voice lowering just enough to carry warning beneath civility. "Most strangers who provoke curiosity in my court do not remain alive long enough to serve."
Kealric's jaw tightened. Arabella swallowed. They had come to reclaim a lost Moon.
Instead— They had been placed directly inside the demon's walls.
Duncan extended his hand toward Thailra once more, guiding her back toward the royal tier. As they ascended, he leaned slightly closer to her, his voice barely audible.
"Now," he murmured, "we will see what they truly are."
Below, guards stepped forward to escort Kealric and Arabella away in opposite directions.
Brother and sister locked eyes briefly, no words, only understanding. They had wanted proximity.
They had achieved it. But inside Ashkaroth—Proximity was far more dangerous than distance.
The arena slowly emptied, but tension still clung to the air like smoke after a fire.
On the royal tier, Lady Semina remained seated, her posture poised, though her fingers tapped faintly against her folded fan.
Princess Helena was the first to speak.
"That was no reward," she said quietly, watching as the guards escorted the strangers away in opposite directions.
"It was a sentence."
Princess Cassandra tilted her head slightly, her gaze thoughtful. "A clever one," she murmured. "He keeps the warrior close… and separates him from the girl."
Princess Aurelia gave a soft scoff, though it lacked its earlier boldness. "So he truly suspects something."
Lady Semina's eyes did not leave the arena floor. "Duncan does not act without suspicion."
Helena's brows furrowed faintly. "Do you think the laborer truly knows her?"
Cassandra answered before their mother could.
"The way he looked at her," she said softly, "was not the look of a stranger."
Aurelia crossed her arms. "And the way she looked at him was worse."
Lady Semina's fan snapped shut with a quiet but firm sound.
"Enough."
All three daughters fell silent.
"Speculation is dangerous in this palace," Lady Semina continued calmly. "Especially when it concerns the New Moon."
Helena hesitated. "But Mother… if there is truth to it—"
"If there is truth," Lady Semina interrupted gently, "Duncan will uncover it."
Aurelia's lips pressed into a thin line. "And when he does?"
Lady Semina's expression hardened slightly.
"Then someone will suffer for it."
Cassandra glanced toward the direction where Thailra Alvarez had disappeared beside Duncan Tharagon.
"Do you think she remembers anything?" she asked quietly.
Lady Semina exhaled slowly.
"No," she replied after a moment. "But something inside her is awakening."
Helena shivered faintly. "And if it fully awakens?"
Lady Semina rose gracefully to her feet, signaling the end of the discussion.
"Then Ashkaroth will no longer be at peace."
She began walking toward the palace corridors, her daughters following closely behind.
"And when kingdoms begin to remember what was buried," she added softly, "thrones begin to shake."
Behind them, the torches flickered once more. As if the palace itself had heard—and agreed.
Melissa's fists clenched tightly as her eyes locked with Sylara's.
Sylara immediately looked away, trembling slightly where she stood behind Thailra, her gaze lowered in quiet submission.
Melissa scoffed under her breath and shifted her attention to Arabella. Suddenly, their eyes met. Melissa was the first to look away.
Arabella arched a brow faintly before turning her gaze aside as well.
Melissa gritted her teeth and slowly looked back again. Arabella was leaning toward the man beside her, whispering something too low for others to hear.
A shadow passed through Melissa's thoughts. Something about her is wrong. She is just a kitchen maid now, she reminded herself.
So why does my chest feel tight?
Why does her presence make me uneasy?
The low murmur lingering in the arena faded as a tall figure stepped forward from the right wing of the royal tier.
The Chief Prime Minister of Ashkaroth lifted his ceremonial staff, striking its base once against the marble floor.
The sharp sound echoed.
"His Highness, the crown Prince of Ashkaroth," he declared in a commanding voice, "and Her Grace, the New Moon, Thailra Alvarez, now withdraw from the arena."
Silence fell instantly.
The Prime Minister turned slightly, his voice rising with formal authority.
"All present shall pay their respects."
Without hesitation, nobles, warriors, servants, and spectators alike dropped to their knees.
The movement rippled outward like falling dominoes across golden sand and polished stone.
Foreheads lowered.
Hands pressed flat against the ground. Even the palace guards knelt, armor clinking softly as they bowed deeply.
At the center of it all stood Duncan Tharagon, unmoving, sovereign and absolute.
Beside him, Thailra remained poised, though her thoughts were far from still. The Prime Minister struck the staff once more.
"Glory to Ashkaroth. Long reign the crown Prince. Long rise the New Moon."
A unified chorus followed, voices reverent and low.
"Long reign. Long rise."
Duncan extended his hand.
Thailra placed hers in it.
Together, they descended the final steps of the arena platform and began walking toward the palace corridor, their pace measured, unhurried.
No one dared lift their head.
Not until the heavy doors of Albaton Palace closed behind them with a deep, resounding thud. Only then did the Prime Minister raise his hand.
"You may rise."
One by one, the court lifted themselves from the floor.
But the atmosphere had changed. What began as a spectacle of sport had ended in silent war.
And everyone in the arena had felt it.
Meanwhile, a figure dressed entirely in black stood motionless at the far edge of the shadowed palace wall.
A wide black hat covered most of his face, leaving only his eyes visible — cold, sharp, and emotionless.
Without a sound, his body began to dissolve into dark, swirling smoke.
The black mist coiled briefly against the stone floor before rising silently into the night air, moving swiftly away from the palace grounds.
He was going to report to his mistress.
Iskaria Venmora.
He was one of her Shadow Hunters — loyal, silent, and deadly.
The smoke drifted across the desert wind, disappearing beyond the outer walls of Albaton Palace, carrying with it information that had no voice… but would soon have consequences.
Prince Kealric's fists slowly clenched as he stared at the retreating figures of Duncan and Thailra.
His chest rose and fell sharply, his teeth gritting in silent restraint.
Arabella placed her palm on his shoulder, but he jerked it away and began walking toward the guards who had summoned him.
Arabella lowered her hand, folding her fingers together as she watched his retreating figure.
"Follow me, miss," said a woman dressed in a higher-ranking maid's uniform.
Judging by her attire, she was likely the chief maid.
Arabella offered a faint smile and nodded before following behind her, briefly glancing around the arena as they walked.
Why did it feel as though this was only the beginning?
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TBC