Lila's heart raced as she realized there was no reasoning with Mateo. The rain outside continued its relentless assault, mirroring the storm inside her. She knew she had to act quickly if she wanted to escape his grasp. Her mind was a whirlwind of fear and determination, but she refused to let herself be a victim.
Mateo's grip on her arm was like iron, and Lila could feel the desperation in his hold. But she was fearless, her resolve only hardening with each passing second. She wouldn't let him control her, wouldn't let him decide her fate.
As Mateo tightened his grip, pulling her closer, Lila's fingers brushed against the ornate hairpiece pinned in her hair. It was a small, delicate accessory, but it was sharp—sharp enough to serve a purpose. Her breath caught in her throat as she made her decision.
With a swift, decisive motion, Lila yanked the hairpiece from her hair. The movement was so quick that Mateo barely registered it until it was too late. In one fluid motion, she stabbed the sharp end of the hairpiece into Mateo's side, aiming for the soft flesh just below his ribs.
Mateo gasped, his eyes widening in shock as the pain registered. His grip on her slackened, his body recoiling from the sudden attack. Lila didn't waste a second—she pushed him away with all her strength, feeling the resistance of his body as he stumbled back, clutching his side.
The rain continued to pour down, mingling with the blood that now stained Mateo's clothing. He looked at Lila with a mixture of shock and fury, his expression twisted in pain. "Lila… what have you done?" he hissed, his voice barely audible over the sound of the storm.
But Lila didn't respond. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she took a step back, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn't feel the fear she expected—instead, there was a cold, calm resolve that settled over her. She had done what she needed to do to protect herself, to break free from his grasp.
With a final glance at Mateo, who was still reeling from the sudden attack, Lila turned and ran. Her feet pounded against the wet floor as she fled the banquet hall, her heart racing with the adrenaline of her escape. She didn't look back, didn't stop to see if Mateo was following. All that mattered now was getting away, finding safety, and reclaiming her freedom.
≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾
Axel stood on the battlefield, his armor stained with the blood and grime of countless battles. The war had been long and grueling, but now, at last, it was over. The enemy had been defeated, and his soldiers were already beginning to dismantle their encampments, eager to return home after a year of relentless fighting.
As Axel surveyed the scene, a sense of weary triumph settled over him. The price of victory had been high—too high, perhaps—but the Northern Empire stood strong. His duty was fulfilled, and the time had come to return to the palace, to the life he had left behind so many months ago.
But just as he began to consider the journey home, a messenger approached him, breathless and pale. Axel's sharp eyes caught the urgency in the man's expression even before he spoke.
"Your Highness," the messenger began, his voice trembling with exhaustion and fear. "The palace… it's in chaos. A fire has broken out, and there are reports of turmoil within the walls. It's said that the situation is dire."
Axel's heart skipped a beat. Fire? Chaos? His mind raced as he processed the news. The palace had always been a place of order, a symbol of the Northern Empire's strength and stability. For it to be in such disarray meant that something had gone terribly wrong.
But there was no time to dwell on what might have happened. Axel clenched his fists, feeling a renewed sense of determination course through him. He had spent the last year fighting for his empire, for his people, and now his battle wasn't over yet. If his home was in danger, then he would be there to protect it—no matter what awaited him.
Without hesitation, Axel gave the order to his men to prepare for the journey back to the palace. He would not rest until he saw for himself what had become of his home, and until he had done everything in his power to restore peace.
The war might have ended on the battlefield, but Axel knew that his fight was far from over. With a heavy heart and a resolute mind, he mounted his horse and set his sights on the horizon. The road ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear—he was ready to face whatever awaited him at the palace, no matter the cost.
Axel scanned the battlefield, his eyes narrowing as he searched for his trusted lieutenant, Lionel. The man had been by his side through countless skirmishes, always dependable, always ready with a plan. But now, as the last echoes of battle faded into the distance, Lionel was nowhere to be found.
A cold realization settled over Axel as his gaze swept across the ranks of soldiers making their way back to camp. Lionel's absence wasn't just unusual—it was telling. The warning bells in Axel's mind rang louder, the pieces of a puzzle he hadn't fully understood before now beginning to fall into place.
"Lionel," Axel muttered under his breath, a mix of anger and disappointment lacing his words. The man had been close to him, closer than most, but in the back of his mind, Axel had always harbored a suspicion. Lionel had been too perfect, too in tune with the plans of the palace. And now, in the wake of the news about the chaos at the palace, Axel couldn't ignore the truth any longer.
It made sense. The Empress Lamaine, with her manipulative ways and her web of secrets, would have placed someone close to him, someone who could relay every detail of his movements, every decision he made on the battlefield. Axel clenched his fists in frustration. He had been so focused on the war that he had missed the threat lurking within his own ranks.
Lionel was the Empress's mole.