The air was thick with tension as Simon crouched beside the lifeless body sprawled across the cold marble floor. Hazel stood nearby, her face pale, her fingers clutching the folds of her gown as though grounding herself. The golden light of the candelabra flickered, casting long shadows over the crimson stain that marred the once-pristine stone.
"We can't leave him here," Hazel whispered, her voice trembling.
Simon nodded, his sharp blue eyes scanning the room for anything he could use. "No one must find out about this," he said, his voice low and steady despite the chaos racing in his mind. "If this was an enemy, it means the palace has been breached. Whoever did this could still be here."
Without hesitation, Simon grabbed a nearby curtain, its heavy velvet fabric deep enough to hide the dark stain spreading across the man's chest. With practiced efficiency, he draped it over the body, obscuring the face and the wound.
"Help me," he commanded, glancing at Hazel. She hesitated, but his determined gaze left no room for argument. Together, they hoisted the body, Simon carrying the weight while Hazel steadied the legs.
"Where are we taking him?" Hazel asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"There's an old storage room near the west wing," Simon replied, his voice tight with effort. "No one goes there anymore. We'll leave him there for now."
This was shocking to Hazel, how could Simon know all about her palace.
Moving quickly yet carefully, they navigated the shadowed corridors of the palace. Simon knew the guards' patrol patterns by heart, slipping between blind spots and ducking into alcoves whenever footsteps echoed too close.
When they reached the dusty, unused storage room, Simon kicked the door open and gestured for Hazel to follow. Together, they concealed the body behind an old, moth-eaten tapestry, the weight of their secret heavy in the air.
"This stays between us," Simon said, locking the door behind them. Hazel nodded, though her wide eyes betrayed her unease. They had buried the evidence, but the danger was far from over.
Here's a scene that blends the intimate dynamics between Ephraim and Layla into the story:
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The flicker of torchlight played across the sandstone walls of the secret chamber beneath the castle. Ephraim stood by the arched window, the chill of the night air brushing against his face as he recounted his success. His voice was smooth, tinged with satisfaction. "Simon and Hazel were as predictable as ever," he said, turning to face Layla, who lounged on a velvet chaise. "Their trust is crumbling, piece by piece."
Layla tilted her head, a sly smile curving her lips. The soft glow of the firelight caught the amber hues of her eyes, making her look almost feline in her poise. "You've done well," she murmured, her voice a seductive purr. "Simon is more vulnerable than ever. And Hazel? She'll be too distracted to see what's coming."
Ephraim took a step closer, his dark eyes locking with hers. "I deserve more than words, Layla. You know that."
She leaned back, letting the thin silk of her gown slip slightly off her shoulder. "Is that so?" she teased, her tone laced with challenge.
Ephraim's lips twitched into a smirk as he closed the distance between them. He knelt before her, his hands resting on the arms of the chaise, caging her in. "You enjoy this game as much as I do," he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, intimate rumble.
Layla's fingers grazed his jaw, her nails trailing a faint line down his neck. "Perhaps," she admitted, her voice softer now, more vulnerable. "But tell me, Ephraim—do you play this game for the thrill, or is it for me?"
Ephraim didn't answer with words. Instead, his lips claimed hers, and the tension between them ignited like dry tinder meeting a flame. It was a battle of wills, of dominance and surrender, but neither seemed willing to lose.
The night stretched on, their whispers and laughter blending with the crackle of the fire. For now, the world outside didn't matter. It was just them, tangled in the dangerous web they had spun.
Ephraim's lust for Hazel was causing him to do some silly dangerous things. Instead of protecting her he seems to be the mastermind behind.
While Ephraim and Layla were having a great time Simon and Hazel were in a serious crisis.
It's not easy to pretend like nothing happened. As soon Hazel reached her chamber she went straight to her bath tub.
Hazel Changed her clothes to some comfortable dress. Her maid servant was called by Simon to assist her but Hazel send her back.
As Hazel was trying to sleep, Simon was sitting opposite the bedside trying to solve the puzzle on who could it be.
Can it be Lama and Layla since they cause a sin a the table. Can it be Ephraim but no he loves her. Do who can it be Victoria and her mother Dorah?
The grand hall of the palace was quiet now, the echoes of music and laughter from the night before replaced by the murmurs of departing guests. Servants bustled about, loading carriages with the belongings of visiting nobles. King Balaam stood in the courtyard with his family, his sharp gaze scanning the palace grounds.
"Where is Michael?" the king demanded, his voice booming with impatience. His family stood behind him, their expressions tense. "I've seen every guest except him. He knew we'd be leaving together. Where is my son?"
Simon and Hazel exchanged a subtle glance, their hearts pounding with the weight of the truth they dared not reveal. The memory of finding Prince Michael's lifeless body in Hazel's room was fresh in their minds, and the fear of what King Balaam might do if he found out loomed over them.
Simon stepped forward, his tone calm but firm. "Your Majesty, Prince Michael left the palace early this morning. I saw him heading out before the rest of the guests woke."
King Balaam frowned, his suspicion evident. "Left? For what purpose? He was supposed to leave with us."
Hazel stepped in, her voice soft yet steady. "maybe he wanted to explore the city or perhaps… spend time with someon.Your Majesty. He often moves on his own whims."
Balaam's eyes narrowed, but then he sighed, his expression softening slightly. "That boy… always chasing pleasure. He's probably found some tavern or a pretty girl to occupy his time." He shook his head, frustration mingling with resignation. "Fine. When he returns, tell him I'll expect him back at the capital within a fortnight. I won't tolerate this lack of discipline much longer." with a smirk he continues " like father like son"
Simon and Hazel nodded in unison, relief washing over them as Balaam turned toward his carriage.
As the royal party departed, Hazel whispered to Simon, her voice barely audible. "We can't keep this secret forever."
Simon's jaw tightened. "We'll deal with that when the time comes. For now, Michael's death stays between us. The peace of the kingdoms depends on it."