After the tumultuous encounter with her father and the comforting embrace of her mother, Isolde retreated to her chambers, seeking solace in the familiar confines of her room. Yet, as she stepped through the threshold, a sense of unease washed over her, tingling at the back of her neck like a foreboding shadow.
Instinctively, Isolde's hand went to the hilt of her dagger, her senses on high alert as she scanned the room for any sign of intrusion. But to her dismay, there was no one in sight, no tangible threat to explain the unsettling feeling that lingered in the air.
Just as she began to dismiss her apprehension as mere paranoia, a flicker of movement caught her eye—a silhouette lurking in the shadows, obscured by the dim light filtering through the window. Without hesitation, Isolde sprung into action, her dagger poised for defense as she whirled around to confront the intruder.
But the figure before her was not a stranger or an enemy. It was Lucian, his presence both unexpected and unsettling as he stood with an air of sinister confidence, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous intensity.
Isolde's grip tightened on her dagger, her instincts urging her to strike out against the man who had once been her tormentor. Yet, before she could act, Lucian moved with an agility that belied his weakened state, effortlessly deflecting her attack and sending her crashing onto the bed with a forceful shove.
The breath knocked from her lungs, Isolde struggled to regain her composure as she glared up at Lucian, her eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and confusion. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, her voice laced with venom.
Lucian smirked, his lips curling into a taunting smile as he loomed over her. "I could ask you the same question, princess," he retorted, his tone dripping with mockery. "But it seems we both find ourselves drawn back to this wretched place, like moths to a flame."
Isolde's heart pounded in her chest, torn between the instinct to flee and the curiosity that compelled her to stay and confront the enigmatic Duke. "What do you want, Lucian?" she demanded, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion.
But Lucian offered no answers, only a cryptic chuckle that sent shivers down Isolde's spine. "You'll find out soon enough, princess," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear as he leaned in close. "But for now, rest easy. We have much to discuss."
With that ominous promise hanging in the air, Lucian disappeared into the darkness, leaving Isolde alone with her thoughts and a sense of impending doom that lingered like a shadow in the night. As she lay on the bed, her mind racing with questions and uncertainty, Isolde knew that the encounter with Lucian was only the beginning of a perilous journey that would test her strength and resilience like never before.
As Isolde struggled to push herself up from the now broken bed, pain flared through her body, a harsh reminder of the confrontation with Lucian. Grimacing, she gingerly examined her injuries, wincing at the bruises and scrapes that marred her skin. But amidst the physical pain, her gaze fell upon the table where an old book lay, its weathered pages beckoning to her like a siren's call.
With a determined resolve, Isolde limped across the room, her steps slow and unsteady as she reached out to grasp the book. As her fingers brushed against the dusty cover, she hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding with a mixture of apprehension and anticipation. Then, with a steadying breath, she flipped open the book, her eyes scanning the pages for any clue or revelation that might shed light on the mysteries of the ancient dragons.
But before she could delve into its contents, Isolde's attention was drawn to a small slip of paper tucked between the pages—a note from Lucian. With a furrowed brow, she unfolded the parchment, her eyes narrowing as she read the words scrawled upon it.
"Because you were wasting too much of my time, I thought of bringing the book myself."
Isolde's heart skipped a beat at the cryptic message, her mind racing with questions and suspicions. What game was Lucian playing, and what secrets did this book hold that warranted his sudden interest?
With a sense of unease gnawing at her, Isolde knew that she could not afford to ignore the warning implicit in Lucian's words. Whatever dark machinations were at play, she was determined to uncover the truth, no matter the cost.
Closing the book with a resolute snap, Isolde tucked it under her arm, her resolve hardened by the challenges that lay ahead. As she limped towards the door, her injuries forgotten in the face of newfound purpose, Isolde knew that the path before her would be fraught with danger and deception.
To be continued....