My hand hovered in the air, still tingling from the fleeting contact with her skin. I watched her for a moment longer, caught in the way her blue hair shimmered like moonlight. A question gnawed at the edge of my mind, irrational and insistent. I stepped forward, meeting her gaze before I could stop myself.
"What's your name?" I asked, my voice quieting more than I had intended.
Her brows furrowed, her lips parting slightly in confusion. "Katerina," she said, her tone laced with caution.
"No," I said, shaking my head as though her answer didn't satisfy me. Something stirred in me, something strange and inexplicable. I felt like I was staring at a reflection of my own truth. "What's your real name?"
Her face darkened, and she leaned back defensively. "What do you mean?" she asked sharply. "I am the Empress. Your wife. Are you seriously telling me you don't know my name yet? We're married."
I ignored the bite in her tone. I wasn't thinking clearly—no, that wasn't right. For once, I was thinking perfectly. My words came slowly, deliberately, like I was drawing them from a well I hadn't known existed.
"No," I repeated. "Not the name you possess here. Your real name." I studied her face, searching for something I couldn't quite articulate. "You're not from this world, are you?"
For a moment, the garden was silent except for the soft burble of the fountain. Her eyes widened, her lips pressing into a thin line. The way she stood, frozen like a statue, told me all I needed to know.
But then she broke the stillness, laughing nervously. "I don't know what nonsense you're talking about, Your Majesty," she said, her voice betraying the calm she was trying to project.
I took a step back, my confidence faltering. Maybe I had imagined it. Maybe my mind, already fractured and strained, was weaving connections where there were none.
I forced a smile and turned on my heel. "Never mind," I said over my shoulder. "Forget I asked."
I didn't look back, but I could feel her gaze burning into my back as I walked away. My own thoughts spiraled as I made my way through the corridors, trying to convince myself I was wrong.
---
The time it took me to reach my office dulled the edge of my weightier thoughts earlier and was replaced with monotony in terms of paperworks. I sat at my desk, the familiar rhythm of signing, stamping, and sorting soothing the storm inside me.
Littered all over the room were the rustling parchments, punctuated occasionally by scratching sounds of my pen. It was mindless work, the kind where my hands would be kept busy but my mind would be elsewhere.
Then, like a whisper in the dark, I felt it.
A shift in the air, a slight change in pressure. I froze, my hand hovering over the paper.
Before I could react, a blade shot toward my neck.
I barely dodged, the knife slicing through the air where my throat had been a heartbeat earlier. My chair toppled as I surged to my feet, instinct driving me to grab the sword at my side.
The assassin lunged again, a shadowy figure cloaked in black, their movements fluid and deadly. I parried the attack; the clash of steel seemed to ring out in the confined space.
"You've made a mistake coming here," I growled low, the depth dangerous.
The assassin didn't reply-he said nothing-but his silence was even worse than any taunt. Every stroke was aimed at killing with one blow.
But I wasn't an easy target. My blood was hot, my mind sharpened by the fire of rage and survival. I countered each blow with one of my own, driving the intruder back step by step.
"You think you can kill me?" I said, a grin spreading across my face despite the danger. My voice had gone to a manic edge, the only thing feeding into something more sinister in me. "You're just another rat scurrying through the palace, hoping for scraps of glory."
Finally, the assassin spoke, their voice a hissing sound. "You've ruined too many lives, Tyrant. This is justice."
"Justice?" I laughed, the sound echoing off the walls. "Justice is a fairy tale for fools! You don't even know what justice is!"
Our blades clashed again, the force of the impact rattling my arms. I could see the determination in their eyes, but it wasn't enough. They were fast, but I was stronger, more brutal.
I feinted left, then drove my blade upward. It caught the assassin in the shoulder, forcing a grunt of pain from their lips.
"You'll die here, just like all the others," I said, my tone dripping with malice.
The assassin reeled but didn't back away. He lunged again, this time aiming for my heart. I sidestepped, grabbing his arm and twisting it until he dropped his weapon.
"You've failed," I whispered, my blade pressed against their throat. "But don't worry, I'll make sure you don't leave here empty-handed. You'll take a message to whatever hell you believe in."
The assassin's eyes widened, but before I could finish them, the door to my office burst open.
"Katerina," I breathed.
She stood there, her blue hair aglow in the light of the corridor. Her eyes darted between me and the assassin, widening at the bloodied scene before her.
Her voice caught in her throat as she took a step forward. "What… what is this?"
I blinked, the rage draining from me like water from a cracked vessel. My sword fell to the floor with a dull clang, and I looked down at my hands, stained with the assassin's blood.
For a moment, I didn't recognize them-or myself.
"Katerina," I said again, my voice softer that time. I took a step toward her, but she flinched, her expression one of shock and fear.
The assassin slumped to the ground, unconscious but alive. I didn't care. All I could focus on was her-her wide eyes, her trembling hands, the way she looked at me as though I were a monster.
And maybe I was.