“I’ll do it. I’ll make him pay,” Isolyn said, her voice barely above a whisper. But before she could gather herself, she added, “But I have one last question… Why me?”

The Queen’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “Aww, child, all my plans have failed. My assassins are all dead. But you… I’m sure you’ll succeed. If plan A fails, plan B won’t. And you’ll carry them out.”

Isolyn’s heart clenched as the Queen’s words sank into her head. There was no turning back now. With a shaky breath, she lifted her head. “I’ll serve you.”

“Perfect,” the Queen said, her smile widening into something dark and satisfied. She turned to face Isolyn fully. “To make this deal complete, you’ll have to sign a blood contract, dear.”

Isolyn’s jaw clenched, and she fought to suppress the wave of dread rising within her. “I don’t care,” she muttered, her voice bitter. “It’s not like I have a choice.”

“Exactly, failure leads to death. I'm sure you won't want that.“ Queen Valyria replied with a genuine smile this time.

Wasting no time, a red smoking scroll, ink and a feather appeared on her hand, immediately the chains used on Isolyn immediately disappeared too .

And she fell to the floor, her body weak to the extreme. The Queen squat down and dropped the scroll and pen feather on the floor.

Queen Valyria took Isolyn left hand and gave it a cut.

Isolyn hissed to the slight pain she felt, when her hands was being cut. The the Queen took the feather and deep it into the cut. And handed it over to Isolyn right hand.

“Now dear, you can sign the the contract.“ She said urging Isolyn to sign.

Isolyn sighed to herself and took a deep breathe and signed immediately without hesitation. With that she ended up unconscious.

*****

NEXT DAY

Isolyn woke up in a baty tube, filled with purple flowers and two maids hands were already washing her up.

And one was washing her red-wine hair. “Hurry up, she must look beautiful as she's going serve the Prince.

Isolyn blinked, her confusion deepening. Serve who? The question echoed in her mind as she opened her eyes.

"Who am I serving?" she asked politely, her tone carefully controlled despite her unease.

The maid washing her hair chuckled softly, her smile almost mocking. "Have you forgotten already? You’re one of the girls chosen to serve his highness tonight." She giggled, the sound grating against Isolyn’s ears.

Isolyn’s stomach churned, but she maintained her composure. What’s going on? she thought, her mind racing. However, she decided to play along, masking her rising panic to uncover more information.

Just then, a knock came at the chamber door, followed by a stern voice. "Hurry up! Word is his highness has finished bathing, and he’s waiting… impatiently."

The maids immediately scrambled, rushing to finish her bath. They wrapped her in a robe and then produced a short, translucent silk gown, its bold design leaving little to the imagination.

Isolyn stared at the garment, her heart pounding. Her patience finally snapped. "Can any of you tell me what’s going on here?" she demanded, her voice rising, almost a scream.

The maids froze, exchanging nervous glances before one of them hesitantly replied, "We’re just doing as instructed, my lady. Please, don’t anger his highness."

Isolyn clenched her fists, her mind spinning. Who is this 'highness,' and what does he want from me? Her resolve hardened she needed answers, and she needed them now.

One of the maid shook her head amused. “The prince is coming and you have to attend to him,” she said her voice laced with a hint of jealousy.

“Now relax and let's get you ready.“

The Isolyn's heart skipped a beat at the mention of the prince.

She was trying to figure out which of the prince, she didn't know what's going on. She didn't catch on, if the maid was jealous. As she wouldn't care.

As they finished, the maid draped a delicate veil over the Isolyn's face, obscuring her features from view.

The maids escorted her toward the prince's chambers, the sound of their footsteps echoing through the silent corridors.

They stopped before a grand wooden door, adorned with intricate carvings of golden lions. The petite maid pushed the door open, revealing a dimly lit chamber beyond.

The Isolyn's heart skipped a beat as she stepped forward, the maids close behind, their eyes watchful and attentive.

“Go on, his highness doesn’t bite when you’re obedient,” the petite maid said, her tone laced with disdain.

Isolyn’s sharp gaze immediately cut through the maid's facade, her frown freezing the girl in place. There was something chilling in Isolyn’s eyes, a quiet intensity that made the maid shudder.

The maid swallowed her remaining words, her confidence crumbling under Isolyn’s piercing stare. Silently, she watched as Isolyn walked past her and entered the prince’s chamber.

As Isolyn stepped into the chamber, her gaze swept across the lavish room, eventually landing on a knife resting on a plate of fresh fruits.

“If that bastard tries to touch me, I don’t care if his mother is the Queen.. I’ll stab him,” she muttered under her breath, her tone cold and resolute.

She made her way to the cushioned bedchair, sinking into it with an air of defiance, her patience ticking like a time bomb. But as the minutes dragged on and there was still no sign of the prince, unease crept in.

Rising from her seat, she wandered to the grand window. Her eyes caught the sprawling sky, clouds drifting in soft hues of serenity.

“Beautiful,” she whispered, closing her eyes and pressing a hand to her chest. Her breaths came shallow and uneven, the weight of her task clawing at her resolve.

The haunting image of herself plunging a blade into a man no a monster… played on repeat in her mind, suffocating her every thought.

“I must succeed, no matter what,” Isolyn whispered, her voice trembling as tears welled up in her eyes. Exhausted from the emotional and physical trauma inflicted by the Queen, she drifted off to sleep, her body too weak to keep fighting.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Isolyn woke with a start, her heart racing. “How did I end up on the bedchair?” she murmured to herself.

Rubbing her eyes, her gaze shifted to the bed. Her breath hitched when she noticed the figure lying there. Slowly, she stood and approached, her steps cautious.

Before her lay a man with a face so pale it looked as if it had never seen the sun. His long, dark lashes rested delicately, and his red lips glistened like fresh blood. Isolyn swallowed hard, unable to tear her gaze away.

“This is no monster,” she whispered to herself, though she quickly clasped her hand over her mouth, as if afraid the sleeping figure would hear.

Her fingers, almost as if they had a will of their own, lightly traced the man’s sharp jawline and soft cheeks.

His snowy white hair spilled across the pillow like a cascade of silk, framing his face with an almost ethereal beauty.

His chest, partially exposed, rose and fell gently, and his long black nails gleamed in the dim light, drawing her in.

“This must be Prince Elijah’s chamber,” she murmured softly, realization dawning. “Since Luka isn’t here...”

Her gaze flicked back to the knife on the table. A flicker of determination and anger surged within her.

“He looks harmless,” she thought, her hand trembling slightly. “But looks can be deceiving. If he truly is the monster they say he is... it’s best to end this now.”

Her steps were almost lifeless as she walked to the table, picking up the knife.

She gripped it tightly, the cool metal biting into her palm, as she turned back toward the sleeping prince.

"Stab him through his heart, if you ever get an opportunity."

The Queen's voice echoed in Isolyn’s mind, sending a chill down her spine. Her grip on the knife tightened as she stared at the man before her. His peaceful expression seemed almost mocking, as though he was daring her to act.

“You killed my parents... so it’s best you die peacefully,” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and sorrow.

Her words felt hollow, an attempt to justify the act she was about to commit. Her chest heaved as rage bubbled to the surface, overpowering any lingering hesitation.

With a sharp intake of breath, she raised the knife high and plunged it into his chest his left side.

The blade pierced flesh with a sickening sound. Blood seeped around the knife, staining the pristine white sheets in crimson.

Isolyn froze, her heart pounding as she watched the man's body jerk faintly before lying still.

For a moment, everything was silent, saved for the sound of her ragged breathing.