Zora’s reaction was so natural—so unbothered—that Minister Henry felt the certainty in his chest waver. If the freckles truly were her doing, shouldn’t she show at least a flicker of guilt? A hint of triumph. Instead, she looked mildly curious, almost detached.
Scarlett, standing behind her father, lowered her head further, the edge of her veil trembling. She dreaded this mont, dreaded being seen, dreaded even more being refused.
"My daughter has recently developed... blemishes," Minister Henry said, each word painfully forced out as his pride cracked. "I hope Princess Consort can heal her."
Although his daughter’s entire future depended on Zora’s willingness, Minister Henry still carried himself with ingrained arrogance, chin lifted slightly, as if rcy were sothing owed to him.
After all, he was the Pri Minister. Shouldn’t any healer be honored to extend their hand?
A cool, amused smile curved Zora’s lips. Her eyes slid past Minister Henry and landed directly on Scarlett.
"So," she said softly, "Miss Scarlett has co hoping that I will heal her?"
Scarlett froze like prey caught in a snare.
To admit she was here to beg—the thought alone made her stomach twist. Ten days ago, she had threatened Zora like a peacock drunk on her own feathers. Today, she needed help from the very person she insulted.
"Please?" Scarlett choked. "You want to— you’re dreaming!"
"Ah." Zora nodded once, as if taking note of the weather. "Then feel free to leave. I have other matters to attend to."
She turned slightly, posture relaxed, entirely unconcerned. It was not apathy—it was dismissal.
And in that dismissal was humiliation sharper than any slap.
Scarlett’s eyes widened. She had never believed Zora would reject her so openly, even with her father present.
"You—! Zora, do you know who I am?" Scarlett’s voice cracked with fury. "How dare you refuse !"
Minister Henry’s expression darkened into sothing stormlike. This arrogant girl—did she truly not understand the position she was in? Or perhaps she simply could not accept reality.
Zora lifted her chin, smile deepening into sothing icy and elegant.
"Miss Scarlet, is that all you can say? ’Do you know who I am?’" Her voice was bored, almost disappointed. "Truly unimaginative."
Minister Henry snapped.
"Bold!" he thundered, stepping forward. "Zora, today I am willing to overlook your tone. But do you understand what it ans to offend ?"
His voice was heavy, filled with political power sharpened over years of court battles.
But Zora’s smile only grew colder.
"I am also Princess Consort of a prince," she said calmly. "Tell , Pri Minister... what exactly can you do to ?"
Minister Henry’s breath hitched.
"And if you intend to resort to force," she continued, eyes turning razor-sharp, "then stop wasting my ti with empty threats. Act. Or leave."
The hall’s air seed to freeze.
Even Prince Kael tilted his head slightly, as if amused by her ruthlessness.
Scarlett felt her knees weaken.
Minister Henry, who was accustod to people bowing and scraping before him, suddenly found himself speechless. His authority, his status, his temper—none of it had shaken Zora in the slightest.
She was not rely unafraid.
She was daring him.
And that realization burned hotter than humiliation.
His patience snapped at last, and the words he had always kept sheathed spilled from his mouth like poisoned arrows.
"Zora, don’t think that becoming a prince’s consort gives you the right to strut about. Kael is nothing more than an unwanted bastard born outside the palace. What pride do you think you have?"
The mont the word bastard left his lips, the temperature in the hall seed to collapse into a frigid abyss.
Zora felt it imdiately—a murderous pressure, dark and suffocating, bursting from Prince Kael’s side like a silent storm.
Minister Henry realized too late what he had said.
Even if everyone whispered it in private, no one dared speak it aloud. To insult a prince’s legitimacy in front of the prince himself... If this reached the emperor’s ears, it wouldn’t rely be disgrace—it would be treason.
"Do you understand," Prince Kael said, his voice low and terrifyingly calm, "what you just said?"
His gaze swept across the room, cold as winter steel. It didn’t matter that he sat in a wheelchair; his presence at that mont crushed the air like a mountain.
Minister Henry felt his knees weaken. It was as though a colossal beast had fixed its sight on him, ready to tear him apart the instant he moved.
His pulse hamred in his ears. This can’t be real. How could this cripple... possess such power?
But the truth stood before him, wrapped in restrained fury. Prince Kael looked nothing—nothing—like the useless son-in-na he had mocked for years.
And Minister Henry suddenly understood: the man before him had been hiding.
Scarlett, seeing her father falter, burst out in indignation, completely misreading the situation.
"You dare threaten my father? You’re just a cripple! What right do you have to act fierce?"
Then her glare shot toward Zora, brimming with venom.
"And you—Zora, you—"
She never finished.
"Alder..."
Just one word escaped from Kael, and a deafening crack split the air.
Before her final insult could take shape, a shadow blurred beside Prince Kael—Alder had moved.
One punch.
One rciless, unrestrained punch.
Scarlett’s body flew like a broken doll, smashing through the front hall doors and skidding across the courtyard stones. Her scream tore through the palace like a raven’s shriek.
Alder exhaled sharply, knuckles still trembling with released fury.
For three years, he had swallowed his anger every ti soone humiliated the young master.
Every year.
Every month.
Every day.
Today, the command had finally been given.
Today, he could fight back.
And it felt glorious.
Minister Henry froze, mouth open, mind blank. It had happened too fast for him to process—one heartbeat, his daughter was yelling, the next she was bleeding on the courtyard floor.
When he finally found his voice, it was strangled with disbelief.
"Kael Moonstone... you—you dare lay a hand on my daughter?! You are finished!"
Prince Kael’s expression didn’t shift. Not an eyelash trembled.
"Old dog," he said, every word calm and clean, "I will give you one chance. Crawl out now, while you still can. Otherwise..." His gaze drifted toward the courtyard.
"You can keep her company."
Minister Henry’s complexion drained to chalk. His fury burned hot, but fear—real, primal fear—coiled around it like a serpent.
"Fine. Fine!" he spat, voice shaking without addressing him with his title anymore. "Kael Moonstone, you will regret this. I swear you will regret crossing !"
"Get out," Prince Kael replied, as casually as one swats away an insect.
Minister Henry staggered toward the courtyard, dragging Scarlett’s limp body with him. He didn’t dare look back—not at Prince Kael, and not at the woman whose calm smile told him everything:
You brought this upon yourselves.
Only after the gates closed behind them did Zora arch a brow, amusent flickering across her face.
"Quite the performance," she murmured.
Even for her, the spectacle had been more satisfying than expected.
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