Chapter 70

Miu’s POV

“Earn.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Gather anyone in the city who can use a weapon. Now.”

I turned away from her before she could respond, my eyes drawn to the edge of the unfinished structure where the exchange of gunfire continued, sharp and relentless against the distance. 

“But—”

“We need communication with the palace,” I continued, my thoughts already racing ahead of the fear threatening to slow me down. “Send someone to establish contact and call for reinforcements. At the same time, locate Father Gaston. If I remember correctly, the church has an underground passageway—we can use it as a shelter for civilians.”

“Your Majesty, you must—”

“If that’s viable, then we fortify every road leading to the church. Barricades, choke points—anything that slows their advance and redirects civilians safely—”

“YOUR MAJESTY!”

Her voice broke through everything.

I turned back to her.

Earn’s composure had cracked—not completely, but enough to make the strain unmistakable. Her eyes were sharp, urgent, but beneath it was something else. Fear. Not of the enemy—but of losing control of this situation. 

“We do not have time for this!” she said, her voice tight. “You must return to the palace before this escalates any further!”

For a moment, I simply looked at her.

I understood her. More than she probably realized.

This was not the kind of battlefield she was trained for—not with someone she had to protect standing in the middle of it.

But that was exactly why I couldn’t leave.

“That’s precisely why we don’t have time,” I replied, my voice steady despite the weight pressing against my chest. “There’s too much to prepare.”

She exhaled sharply, frustration breaking through her control. “Your Majesty, please—”

“That was an order.”

The words came out firm, final.

She flinched, just barely, but I saw it.

Silence stretched between us for a brief second, heavy with everything neither of us was willing to yield.

“They caught us off guard,” I continued, quieter now but no less resolute. “They planned this. They waited for this moment.”

My hands clenched at my sides as I forced the rest out.

“We cannot let them take everything we’ve just begun to rebuild.”

I stepped closer, meeting her gaze fully.

“The people out there—they’ve only just begun to hope again.”

My voice steadied even further.

“And I will not abandon that.”

Her expression didn’t soften, not immediately. The frustration was still there, sharp and unrelenting—but something beneath it shifted, something caught between resistance and understanding.

“Earn,” I said, more quietly now, but with weight enough to hold her attention, “you must follow my orders.”

She hesitated, and I had enough of it.

“Well?” I pressed, stepping forward, refusing to let that hesitation settle. “What are you waiting for?!”

I drew a breath and raised my fist to my chest, grounding myself in the motion.

“We can do this!”

My voice carried, stronger now.

“We will not fail!”

I could feel it then—the shift in the air, the attention of those around us turning, listening.

“I will fight for each and every one of you,” I continued, my voice unwavering. “And in return—you will stand beside me!”

For a moment, everything held still.

Then it broke—not into chaos, but into resolve.

“YES! YOUR MAJESTY!”

The response came firm, unified.

Earn’s gaze changed. The tension didn’t disappear, but it sharpened into something steadier, something she could act on.

“Arm me,” I said. “We move to the center of the city and split as needed. Follow my instructions exactly. No delays.”

Movement surged around me, purposeful now.

I stepped aside as they moved, letting the urgency settle into action. 

 For a brief moment, I allowed myself to pause. 

My hands came together, fingers interlacing as I brought them to my forehead, my eyes closing against the chaos pressing in from every side. The noise didn’t fade—it never did—but for a heartbeat, I forced myself to stand still within it.

Dear Lord…

If this is a test, then give me the strength to endure it. Not just to survive—but to see it through, to stand at the end of it without breaking.

Forgive me, Mother…

Just this once.

Just this once, I will fight as I once did as Matthew—without restraint, without hesitation, without fear of what it might turn me back into. Everything I learned… everything I buried… I will bring it back, if that is what it takes.

But please… let it only be for now.

Not forever.

Not again.

Please watch over me.

Not just for my sake—but for theirs.

For the thousands of lives in this city that are about to be caught in something they never chose.

And for this one…

The smallest, most fragile future I now carry.

My breath left me in a quiet exhale as I opened my eyes again, the world rushing back in all at once—louder, harsher, real.

And this time, I did not hesitate.

—

Third Person’s POV

In the Valeen Household…

Marcus had already cleaned the weapon more times than necessary, yet the cloth still dragged slowly along the barrel as if the act itself mattered more than the result. Oil caught the light in thin streaks, his fingers moving with a precision that bordered on obsessive. 

The study was quiet—too quiet—and every faint sound he made seemed to echo back at him, feeding something restless beneath his skin. 

A low chuckle slipped from his lips, unprompted, followed by another, softer this time, as though he were sharing a private joke only he could hear.

“The sky is clear…” he murmured, eyes drifting toward the tall window across the room. “Perfect.”

A grin spread across his face, slow and unrestrained.

“Perfect for watching the land take the color of red.”

The cloth stilled in his hand. With practiced ease, he set it aside and checked the mechanism of his weapon, the clean click of it snapping into place satisfying something deep within him. 

He exhaled through his nose, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off a dull weight. “Ahh… I feel alive.”

But then, a knock interrupted him—sharp, precise.

“Sir, the next batch of soldiers is ready to be deployed on the northeastern border.”

Marcus’s grin sharpened. “Oh, Cole. Good. That’s great news.” His tone lifted, almost eager, as he secured the weapon into its holster and moved toward the door without hesitation. “Let’s not waste time—”

“Sir.”

The single word halted him.

Marcus paused, frowning slightly as he turned his head just enough to glance back. Cole stood by the door, posture straight, expression unreadable.

“Were you planning to head out yourself?”

“Of course I am,” Marcus replied, irritation slipping easily into his voice. “I’m the commander. Who else would be giving orders?”

“That is true,” Cole answered evenly, “but the situation is not typical. While there are trained men among the ranks, a significant number are prisoners and conscripts. They are not loyal, nor are they disciplined. I cannot guarantee they will follow your command without resistance… or that they won’t attempt to harm you.”

Marcus’s gaze hardened, his amusement thinning into something sharper. “You think I can’t handle them?”

“I think unpredictability is not something you should place yourself within,” Cole said calmly. Then, after a brief pause that felt almost deliberate, he added, “Your father has ordered you to remain here. He does not wish for you to be harmed again.”

The tension lingered just long enough to matter. Marcus clicked his tongue, turning away with visible annoyance, though it lacked the bite of true resistance.

“Tsk… fine.” He waved a hand dismissively as he walked toward the window. “If Father insists, then I suppose I’ll humor him.” His tone lightened again, as though the matter had already lost its importance. “You’ll handle things in my place.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Marcus stood by the glass, looking out toward the distant horizon, where the sky stretched clear and wide as he had described. For a moment, he said nothing, the stillness settling back into the room.

Then his voice returned, quieter this time, almost thoughtful.

“However…”

Cole did not move.

“Make sure that woman is brought back alive.”

The shift in tone was subtle—but unmistakable.

The air seemed to still around the words. He did not turn, his back still facing Cole, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the glass—but there was a shift in him, subtle and unmistakable, like a mask slipping just enough to reveal what lay beneath.

“I’d like to take my time with her.”

His fingers pressed lightly against the window, slow, almost thoughtful.

“First, the eyes…” he murmured, as though considering the order of a delicate craft. “She won’t need those. Not where she’s going.” A faint chuckle followed, low and pleased. “Then the tongue. I imagine she’ll have quite a lot to say before that… it would be a shame to let it go to waste.”

He exhaled, something close to satisfaction threading through the sound.

“And the rest… piece by piece. Every part of her.”

Cole remained still. He didn’t need to see Marcus’s face to know the expression that had taken hold—he had heard it before, in the pauses between words, in the way Marcus lingered just a little too long on each thought, as if savoring it.

“And when she finally breaks…” Marcus continued, tilting his head slightly, the hint of a smile returning to his voice, “when there’s nothing left in her but that hollow little scream—”

His hands lifted suddenly, spreading outward in a mock flourish.

“—that’s when it gets interesting.”

The grin that followed was unmistakable now, even without seeing it.

“I’ll send the Queen a gift,” he said, almost brightly. “Something personal. Something she won’t be able to look away from.”

A quiet breath escaped him, amused.

“Her precious head…”

The name lingered on his tongue.

“…will make a lovely centerpiece.”

He let the silence stretch for a moment, indulging in it.

“Imagine it,” he added, voice dipping again, darker now, almost intimate. “The look on her face when she realizes… there’s nothing left to save.”

Another soft laugh slipped free.

“That will be the real entertainment.”

He lifted a hand as if presenting an invisible gift, the gesture almost playful.

“Oh—and burn the rest,” he added casually, as though it were an afterthought. “As much as possible. Make it large. I want to see it from here.”

Only then did he turn back, that same grin fully formed again, bright and unsettling in equal measure.

“I’ll need something to enjoy while I wait.”

Cole bowed without hesitation.

“Yes… as you wish, Sir Marcus.”