Measured footsteps echoed through the heavy silence of the darkness.
Gareth, seated on a stone bench in the garden and gazing into the stillness of the pond, turned his head toward the corridor.
Barkas Longboat emerged, striding along the vaulted arcade that opened onto the garden.
He wore the immaculately pressed uniform of the Imperial Guard, every line sharp and precise.
There was a quality to his movements that reminded Gareth of a serpent—gliding effortlessly through the depths of dark, cold waters.
Sometimes Gareth wondered why this man felt so wrong.
Barkas had hair the color of faded flax and eyes like silvered glass.
His skin was pale, as smooth and cold as polished marble.
He was a man composed entirely of muted, dull shades, looking like a figure drawn on ancient parchment.
And yet, he exuded an aura so ominous it felt like a physical weight.
Every time they met, a phantom chill crawled down Gareth’s spine.
"Your Highness."
The man bowed with practiced grace, pressing a hand to his chest.
Gareth waved him off with a flick of his wrist, his irritation plain.
"Drop the useless formalities, Barkas."
Though he served in the Imperial Guard for now, the man was the heir to the Dukedom of Siekan.
Soon, he would rule the Eastern Lands.
He was not someone to be treated lightly, yet Gareth treated him with the casual indifference one might show a servant.
"How much longer do I have to look up at you?
Sit."
Despite the blatant rudeness, Barkas’s expression remained a mask of perfect composure.
There was no flicker of resentment, no trace of servility—only a profound, hollow indifference.
He lowered himself into a marble chair.
The Crown Prince scrutinized him, searching for a crack in those lifeless features.
Outwardly, Barkas appeared as he always did, but Gareth could sense the foulness of his mood.
*Did something go wrong?*
"The interrogation," Gareth began, his voice heavy with unspoken pressure.
"What did you find?
Was it truly impossible to uncover who was behind this?"
"I have uncovered everything that could be found," Barkas replied, his voice a flat monotone.
He reached up, loosening the high collar of his uniform.
"Though I doubt it is the answer you were hoping for, Your Highness."
Gareth’s brow furrowed.
"Explain."
"The poison in the Princess’s glass...
it did not originate from the Empress’s chambers."
"Then from where?"
"The court pharmacist prescribed the substance to a maid from the inner chambers.
It isn't even classified as a true poison.
In small doses, it is harmless.
In larger quantities, however, it causes violent vomiting and abdominal distress.
Because it isn't lethal, it isn't kept under lock and key."
"And you expect me to believe a maid suddenly lost her mind and decided to slip this into my sister’s wine?" Gareth’s lips curled into a sneer, but the veins on his neck pulsed with rising fury.
Barkas’s gaze remained dry, unaffected by the Prince's temper.
"It was not the maid who added it."
"Then who?" Gareth demanded, his patience snapping.
"If it wasn't the Empress and it wasn't the maid, who dared lay a hand on my sister’s glass?"
"The Second Princess did it."
Gareth, who had been on the verge of an explosion, went deathly still.
"That girl?"
His face contorted, his anger shifting from hot lava to something cold and disgusted.
When Gareth spoke of the Empress, his rage was fiery.
But when the subject turned to the Empress’s illegitimate daughter—the one she had brought into the palace like a stray—he looked as if someone had forced him to swallow something rotten.
The sound of grinding teeth filled the silence.
"That crazed bitch.
I should have known.
Every time she looks at Ayla, her eyes turn green with envy."
Barkas offered no reaction to the crude abuse.
Gareth leaned in, his eyes searching.
"But surely...
surely Seneviere was involved?
That creature must have whispered in her daughter’s ear.
She must have pushed her to do it."
"If the Empress were behind it, she would have used a real poison," Barkas countered coldly, his pale eyes shimmering in the dark.
"And if she had, she would not have left a trail of evidence."
Gareth had no rebuttal.
He hated being corrected, but the sheer disgust with which Barkas spoke of the situation gave him a twisted sense of satisfaction.
Barkas, usually so detached, seemed to sharpen whenever the conversation turned to Thalia Roem Girtha—the singular stain on the imperial family’s reputation.
It was a reminder that, in this at least, the man was on his side.
"Of course," Gareth said, his tone lightening as his temper cooled.
"Seneviere is too cunning to risk her position on something so clumsy.
But Thalia...
she’s finally hung herself with her own rope.
I always knew she’d make a mistake eventually."
A sharp, boyish grin flickered across his face, a ghost of the rebellious scamp he had been during their academy days.
"She probably lost her mind because my sister 'won' you.
How long did that rootless creature pretend she was above her station, dragging the heir of House Siekan around like a dog?
Now she realizes the knight she treated like a plaything will soon be the husband of a *real* princess.
No wonder she snapped."
Barkas remained silent.
Barkas Longboat Raedgo Siekan never spoke more than was strictly necessary, but tonight, his silence felt heavy—unbearable, even.
Gareth stared at him, demanding acknowledgement.
"In any case, she won't escape punishment this time.
If we push, we can frame this as an attempted assassination."
"It is unlikely to go as you hope," Barkas interrupted.
Gareth’s eyebrows shot up in fury, but Barkas didn't flinch.
"Firstly, the evidence is purely circumstantial.
If she denies involvement, it will be difficult to prove her guilt beyond a doubt."
"The maid's testimony—"
"Do you truly believe the word of a single maid is enough to bring down the eldest daughter of House Seneviere?" Barkas asked calmly.
Gareth faltered, searching for an answer, but Barkas continued before he could find one.
"Secondly, even if her involvement is proven, a drug that merely causes stomach pain will not result in a severe sentence.
She will claim it was a 'harmless prank' and receive a temporary isolation at worst."
"A harmless prank?" Gareth exploded.
He lunged forward, grabbing Barkas by the collar and hoisting him up.
"Do you have any idea what the woman who is to be your wife suffered?
Ayla, who never shows weakness, was retching and fainting in front of the entire court!
You saw her pain, and you dare call it a *prank*?"
Gareth’s face was flushed crimson.
He hissed through clenched teeth, "I was so blinded by shock that I didn't see it then, but when Ayla fell...
I saw Thalia.
That bitch was laughing from the shadows!
She enjoyed it!
My sister suffered, and that filthy creature..."
"Your Highness."
Gareth flinched at the tone and slowly unclenched his fists.
Barkas hadn't raised his voice, but a sudden, icy sweat broke out across the Prince's back.
He stepped away, watching the man.
Barkas simply reached up and meticulously straightened his wrinkled collar.
"That woman is not worth the attention you are giving her, Your Highness," he said, his voice flat and dismissive.
"She is nothing more than a nuisance who enjoys petty, vile antics.
Are you, the future Emperor, truly going to waste your dignity on such a trifle?"
He spoke with the weary patience of an adult soothing a petulant child.
In any other circumstance, Gareth would have struck him for such insolence, but he remained silent, realizing he had overstepped.
Barkas stood to leave.
He didn't ask for permission; he simply moved as if it were his natural right.
"I have already dispatched medicinal herbs to soothe Her Highness’s stomach," Barkas added.
"Furthermore, I will personally oversee everything brought to her table—food and drink alike."
"So you want me to just turn a blind eye?"
"If Your Highness wishes to pursue this and punish the Second Princess, I will not stand in your way," Barkas replied.
"But I will not be a part of it."
Gareth’s face heated with frustration.
Barkas clearly viewed the entire ordeal as the clumsy tantrum of an unimportant girl—a matter beneath his notice.
He was right, of course; if the Crown Prince and the future Duke made a public spectacle over a minor poisoning, it would only invite gossip and damage their own reputations.
Still, Gareth couldn't shake his dissatisfaction.
He narrowed his eyes, a suspicion taking root.
"Are you...
protecting her?"
Barkas, already turning to leave, stopped dead.
He cast a sharp, frigid glance over his shoulder.
The wind from the lake stirred his flaxen hair, but his face remained a mask of stone.
Then, at the corners of his mouth, a smile flickered—sharp as a dagger.
It was the first sign of emotion Gareth had seen on that face in years.
"Protecting her?" Barkas let out a short, dry laugh, but his blue eyes burned with a sudden, lethal intensity.
Gareth was momentarily speechless.
He knew Barkas hated Thalia.
Everyone did.
But he hadn't realized the depth of it.
Barkas was a man rumored to have had his emotions purged by the priesthood.
In over a decade, Gareth had never seen him show so much as a flicker of feeling.
What had Thalia done to make this man of stone bare his teeth?
Gareth watched him with newfound curiosity.
There had always been rumors of the abuse Barkas suffered when he was forced to serve as Thalia’s personal knight.
But Gareth had assumed Barkas was too arrogant to care about the whims of a foolish girl.
He had thought Thalia was merely an annoyance to him.
He had been wrong.
Barkas’s eyes flashed with a cold, predatory light.
"I simply want nothing more to do with her," he hissed through his teeth.
Without another word, he turned and walked away, disappearing back into the darkness of the arcade.
Gareth watched his retreating figure, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across his lips.
"Thalia...
I don't know what you did to him, but it works in my favor."
If his most powerful ally truly loathed his enemy, then their bond was unbreakable.
Pleased with the turn of events, the Crown Prince finally stood and left the garden.