#3

Arwenzylle winced as she slowly pushed herself up from the bed. The pain in her body felt real, too real. She stumbled to the mirror and gazed at her reflection, but the face staring back at her was not the one she knew. It was still her, yet... something was different. Her eyes, once filled with uncertainty, now carried a strange intensity, as though everything around her had shifted. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed deep within her.

A knock on the door startled her from her thoughts.

"Your Highness, the duke requests your presence," came the servant's soft but firm voice.

The duke... Arwenzylle felt her stomach tighten at the mere thought of him. She had barely survived their last encounter, and now... now she felt an unshakable sense that something much more dangerous was unfolding. Still, she couldn’t ignore his summons. There were questions that needed answering, and she wasn’t going to be left in the dark any longer.

With a deep breath, Arwenzylle steadied herself and stood tall, ignoring the persistent ache in her body. "I’m coming."

The walk through the cold, empty halls felt like an eternity. The silence seemed heavier than before, and each step she took reverberated in the hollow spaces around her. She knew she wasn’t just walking to another confrontation; she was walking toward the answers she had been desperately seeking.

The duke sat behind his desk, his expression unreadable. As Arwenzylle entered, the door clicked shut behind her with an ominous finality. The tension between them was palpable, but this time, it was different. It wasn’t anger that filled the air—no, it was something darker, more calculated.

“Come in,” the duke said, his voice carrying a chilling calm.

She stepped forward, her heart pounding in her chest. She had no idea what he would say this time, but she knew it wouldn’t be any easier than before. She took her seat, eyes cast downward, as her father’s gaze never wavered from her.

“So,” he began slowly, as though savoring the silence, “I trust you’ve learned your lesson?”

Arwenzylle nodded, her throat tight. “Yes, Father,” she whispered.

“You understand the gravity of your actions, don’t you?” His voice was still deceptively calm, but there was an edge to it now an edge that made her shiver. “A letter to the prince. A desperate plea for help. How do you think that makes me look?”

Her lips trembled as she spoke, but she pushed the words out anyway. “I never meant for it to be seen. I was just... lost.”

The duke’s gaze softened for a brief moment, as if considering her words. But the moment passed, and his expression hardened again. “Lost?” he repeated, his voice filled with cold disbelief. “Do you think you have the luxury of being lost, Arwenzylle? Do you think the empire will allow you to be lost in your own fantasies? You are a princess not some wayward girl searching for a fleeting escape.”

The weight of his words pressed heavily on her chest, but she held her ground, refusing to let herself break. “I know my place,” she said quietly, though her voice wavered. "This won't happen again, father "

The duke’s eyes flickered with something almost imperceptible something like disappointment. He leaned forward, his hands clasped on the desk in front of him, his fingers tapping gently.

“You see, Arwenzylle,” he began, his tone more measured now, “that’s the problem. You don’t understand the difference between fantasy and reality. You don’t know what it means to serve this family to serve the empire. To serve me. You are not the center of the world. You exist because the empire needs you. Because your sister needs you. And because I demand your obedience.”

His words struck her like a blow, and she had to fight back the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. “I didn’t mean to disappoint you,” she whispered.

The duke’s gaze softened for a moment, and Arwenzylle dared to look up. “I’m not interested in your apologies, Arwenzylle,” he said, his voice strangely calm now. “You’ve made your mistakes. But now, you will make them right.”

Her heart clenched in her chest. “How?”

“By showing true loyalty,” the duke replied. “You will undo the damage you’ve done. You will write the prince an apology letter.""

Arwenzylle swallowed, her throat tight as she nodded. “Yes, Father. I understand.”

The duke’s gaze remained fixed on her, his expression unreadable. “Good,” he said, almost to himself. “Perhaps there’s still hope for you yet.”

But then he stood, signaling that the conversation was over. “Remember, Arwenzylle,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “I am always watching. Don’t make the same mistake twice.”

With that, he turned away, dismissing her without another word. Arwenzylle stood there, her legs unsteady beneath her, as the door clicked shut behind her.

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