The plea was absurd, outrageous even. This was no trivial matter. It wasn’t about food thieves or rogue vampires violating the Trinity Pact by drinking human blood.
No, this was sothing far more serious—sothing with devastating consequences. This was about black magic.
"What do you an, drop the case? My love, do you even understand what you’re asking?" King Valentin’s voice was tight with disbelief.
He took her hand, his gaze lowering to et hers, but Lady Maris refused to look up. Her entire body trembled.
When she finally did lift her head, her face was streaked with tears. With trembling lips, she pressed her cheek against his hand.
"I know... I know I’m asking too much," she whispered, her voice cracking. "But please—can you do this for ? I swear, I’ll never ask for anything else."
King Valentin’s heart sank. Her response felt like confirmation.
He had desperately hoped to strike her na from the list of suspects, but now it seed undeniable—Lady Maris was involved in the dark magic. His chest tightened painfully as he stared at her, bewildered.
"Why?" His voice was barely audible. "Why would you do this? Have I not given you enough? You lack nothing by my side. Is it power you want? Do you wish to be crowned queen?"
She had vehently denied wanting the title before. She had insisted that the last thing she wanted was to be viewed as a gold-digger, as soone who had approached the king for his throne.
And beyond that, she had always been mindful of the late Queen Isolde’s lingering shadow.
The late queen and King Valentin had been betrothed since childhood. Their union was purely political, arranged to strengthen alliances, and nothing—not even love—could have undone it.
King Valentin had married her before ascending the throne, a decision orchestrated by the previous king, who feared his son would choose a commoner as queen.
"No! How could you think such a thing?" Lady Maris gasped, looking up at him with desperate eyes. "I am more than content with my life, Your Majesty. My position ans nothing to as long as I am by your side."
And it was true. Lady Maris had always found fulfillnt in seeing Lisbeth, King Valentin’s daughter by a mistress, raised as princess and heir to the throne. It was more than she had ever hoped for.
"Then why?" King Valentin’s voice trembled, his composure slipping.
No explanation could excuse the practice of dark magic—it was forbidden, and the consequences severe. But he needed to understand. Why had his lover, of all people, turned to such a dangerous path?
Tears welled in Lady Maris’s eyes, her lips quivering as she whispered, "Would you believe if I told you I had no choice?"
No choice? The words hung in the air, heavy with uncertainty.
There were many reasons soone might feel compelled to act—desperation, survival—but King Valentin imdiately dismissed that notion.
Lady Maris had no reason to struggle for survival. She was safe within the palace walls. Her status was secured ever since he had ascended the throne.
Could it be ambition? The thirst for power often drove people to unspeakable lengths. Yet, she had always rejected the idea of seeking more power, more status. She had never envied the crown.
That left only one plausible reason: protection. But protecting whom? For whom would she risk everything?
"Is it because of Lisbeth?" King Valentin asked softly, his thoughts circling the most obvious answer.
Lady Maris was a fiercely devoted mother, willing to sacrifice anything for her daughter. If it was for Lisbeth, perhaps he could begin to understand why she had resorted to dark magic.
"Lisbeth?" Lady Maris blinked in surprise. "Why would you think that? She has nothing to do with this." Her confusion seed genuine, and the honesty in her expression left no room for doubt.
King Valentin felt his heart sink further. If it wasn’t for Lisbeth, then who? Who could possibly drive Lady Maris to such desperate asures?
"My love, you know I would do anything for you. There is no mountain too high and no ocean too deep when it cos to us. But please, I beg you—tell why you did it. Only when I understand can I truly help you."
King Valentin was uncertain whether he could really conceal the fact that Lady Maris had practiced dark magic within the palace walls or not. If such a scandal broke out, the consequences would be catastrophic.
The citizens of Eira would not forgive such a betrayal, and the ever-watchful Elder Alfred’s followers might seize the opportunity to undermine his reign. His entire position could be jeopardized.
But handing over his lover to the court was unthinkable. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was a way to shield her from the harshest consequences. If punishnt were unavoidable, he could still maneuver to ensure a more rciful outco.
However, none of that could happen without understanding the truth. Without knowing the reason behind her actions, his hands were tied.
King Valentin’s mind raced with possibilities, but he needed clarity. Every move he made depended on her next words.
"If you won’t tell why, I can’t protect you," he urged, his voice soft but firm. Desperation flickered in his eyes as he reached out, hoping—pleading—for her to confide in him.
Lady Maris began to understand what King Valentin was trying to do. Just as she had been shielding soone, he was now attempting to protect her. The realization softened her resolve.
With a heavy sigh, she reached up, gently cupping his cheek in her hand. "Alright," she whispered, her voice laced with both resignation and trust.
***
When Queen Isolde was alive, Lady Maris went to great lengths to avoid crossing paths with her. Though the royal palace was vast, both won resided in the sa building, and as the years passed, their encounters beca inevitable—once or twice a month, at least.
The queen, known for her love of the gardens, often strolled there, and it was during these walks that they would occasionally et. Whenever their paths crossed, Lady Maris would bow respectfully, but Queen Isolde would simply stare, her expression unreadable, offering no response.
Lady Maris could understand if the queen resented her. After all, she was the mistress who had captured the king’s heart, pulling him away from his rightful wife.
Yet, despite the tension, Queen Isolde never displayed outright hostility. They simply avoided each other’s lives, living in an unspoken truce.
Unlike grand royal events, Queen Isolde preferred intimate tea parties with close acquaintances. She hosted them regularly—at least once a week, often two or three tis, unless palace duties or major events interfered.
During these gatherings, Lady Maris relished having the central garden to herself, as the queen and her guests favored the west wing’s pavilion.
During such events, Lady Maris would have the central garden all to herself as the queen would use the pavilion in the west wing to host the guests.
But then, quite suddenly, the tea parties stopped. Lady Maris was careful not to pry into matters beyond her concern and didn’t ask why.
However, she couldn’t help but notice that the central garden remained unusually empty, untended. It was clear that Queen Isolde hadn’t visited in so ti.
Still, Lady Maris stayed in her lane, avoiding gossip and intrigue—until one night, just before dawn, she spotted a figure sneaking through the garden. The servant was cloaked in black, moving hurriedly, her behavior suspicious.
Curiosity getting the better of her, Lady Maris grabbed the hood, revealing the startled face of Emmanuelle—Queen Isolde’s maid.
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