Lord Volkov walked down the corridors beside the Queen Mother. His cane tapped rhythmically against the stone floor, a sound that echoed through the empty halls. The sharp click of his shoes was in sync with the Queen Mother's own, but the contrast between their steps was unmistakable. While the Queen Mother's pace was filled with irritation, her every step a sign of anger, Volkov's was measured, calm—assured. He had nothing to worry about.
As they approached the heavy doors that led outside to his awaiting carriage, both their canes screeched sharply against the floor as they came to a halt. They turned to face each other. The Queen Mother's face, etched with age, twisted further as she scowled, an expression that did nothing to soften the hard lines of her face. Volkov, ever composed, simply stared at her, knowing what was coming next.
"You know, beauty advice, Your Grace," Volkov began in a neutral tone, his words laced with something less than polite. "Frowning causes wrinkles around your lips and cheeks. And you're gaining more stress lines with time. You should learn to let Theron do the work. I'm sure his characteristics passed to him from you, and whatever plans you have for the Queen and this Kingdom, he knows them well."
The Queen Mother scoffed. "Nonsense," she snapped. "You spew nonsense all the time, Volkov. When will you ever stop? And take my advice: stop being delusional. Elara is my daughter-in-law and I don't have any other plans for her than expecting more grandchildren from her ."
Volkov's voice grew colder, his gaze sharpening. "Queen Elara, you mean to say."
A heavy silence settled between them, thick with tension, before the Volkov spoke again, his words laced with veiled threat. "I would warn you about the disaster that will come for you—and that husband of yours residing in one of the cells in hell —when she regains her full memories. But unfortunately, I won't be around to witness it. I'd rather not say something fun and jolly, something that might make you think I'm delusional. But mark my words, Theron won't die at her hands. He'll die at the hands of that witch."
Volkov smiled then, a cruel twist of his lips. "Yes, I know," he replied, his tone as chilling as the smile he wore. "You humans should learn to whisper. You're living under the roof of supernaturals, after all. And you better start giving that tea to Evelyn if you don't want her to spoil your plans. But if you trust her..." He raised his hand in a mock gesture of indifference. "Then it's fine by you. And perhaps, just for her sake, lock her in a coffin, too, so she doesn't witness the gore that's sure to follow. She really is innocent, remember?"
The Queen Mother's eyes widened in disbelief as Volkov continued. "And Lyric?" He placed a finger under his chin, and a flicker of concern crossed the Queen Mother's face as she realized how Volkov seemed to know everything that had happened behind closed doors. The thought nagged at her, but she quickly masked her unease, unwilling to show weakness.
His voice lowered as he spoke thoughtfully. "Perhaps give her hand in marriage to Given. She's innocent, too. Force them to fall in love and marry, since they spend so much time bickering like a couple—like you and Markus. But..." He tilted his head slightly, almost as though considering the possibility. "I don't know how that would end. Maybe one of them will end up dead."
Before the slap could reach his face , Volkov sidestepped the slap aimed at him, gripping the Queen Mother's wrist firmly. His blood-red eyes bored into hers, a silent warning. "You've just ruined my mood," he said, his voice dark and measured. "I was about to tell you more, Gracie Grace. But it's fine. I have a kingdom to return to, awaiting my rule—silent, unchallenged, and without fear."
With that, Volkov stepped outside, his boots crunching against the ground as he inhaled the fresh air, letting it fill his lungs. He turned back toward the castle, the doors still wide open, and there, perched on one of the high windows, stood a white owl, its feathers gleaming in the sunlight. Those green eyes... he could lose himself in them, fall into them endlessly, and never complain. The sight lingered in his mind as he whispered a final word to the air .
And he was gone .