Chapter 13: The Final Nail

One enemy falls.

But in his place, another rises.

The Final Trap

The northern mercenary camp lay hidden in the dense woods, far from the reach of the royal court. The air was thick with the scent of damp soil and burnt wood, and the sound of clashing steel echoed in the night.

Gregor thought he was rebuilding.

That he had outmaneuvered the kingdom.

That his return to power was inevitable.

He was wrong.

Because tonight, his fate was already sealed.

A Fool’s Last Hope

Inside the camp’s largest tent, Gregor sat at a worn wooden table, studying maps and supply records.

His men whispered in tense voices, still shaken by their losses. Supplies were running low. Weapons shipments had been intercepted.

But Gregor still believed in his final chance.

A powerful noble—one he thought was still loyal to him—had promised reinforcements. A meeting was set.

A chance to reclaim everything.

Gregor didn’t realize…

It was a trap.

Springing the Trap

I stood at the rendezvous point, deep in the forest, waiting.

The night was still, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. My spies had done well—Gregor had swallowed the bait completely.

Soon, I heard the sound of approaching riders.

Gregor.

Surrounded by his most trusted men.

How unfortunate for them.

They had barely reached the clearing when the first arrow struck.

Gregor’s second-in-command slumped from his horse, lifeless.

Panic spread through the group. Shouts. Scrambling. The unmistakable sound of swords being drawn.

And then—the fire erupted.

Flames exploded from the treetops, engulfing the path behind them. Their escape route? Gone.

And from the darkness, my hidden forces moved in.

The End of a Traitor

Gregor fought hard.

To his credit, he was not a coward. He cut down two of my men before being forced to his knees.

His remaining mercenaries?

Dead.

Scattered.

Useless.

I stepped forward, my boots crunching softly against the dirt. He finally looked up at me.

And for the first time… I saw fear in his eyes.

“You,” he hissed, breathless. “You set this up.”

I tilted my head. “I did warn you, my lord. Assassins rarely get second chances.”

Recognition flickered in his gaze. The words. The quiet warning I had whispered to him in the palace.

His expression twisted in rage. “You were behind it all.”

I smiled. “Of course.”

Silence stretched between us.

Then—I raised my hand.

The order was clear.

Gregor did not die quickly.

But he did die knowing one thing.

He had lost.

The Shadow Strikes Again

By the time I returned to the capital, I expected things to be calm.

Gregor was gone. His influence was erased. The court belonged to me now.

But then—another letter arrived.

Unmarked. No seal. No signature.

Just a single phrase.

"You always were predictable, Azareth."

I froze.

Because this time, it wasn’t a question.

It was a statement.

Whoever was watching me knew exactly who I was.

And they were waiting.

Evelyn’s Breaking Point

The next day, I barely made it past breakfast before Evelyn cornered me.

She dragged me into an empty corridor, her violet eyes burning with frustration and something sharper—something dangerously close to certainty.

“You lied to me.”

I raised a brow. “I lie to many people, Princess. You’ll have to be more specific.”

She exhaled sharply. “Don’t. Don’t play games with me, Lucian.”

Ah.

Again—my name.

Not Prince Lucian.

Not Your Highness.

Just Lucian.

Dangerous.

She took a step closer, lowering her voice.

“I saw the reports. The way Gregor fell was too perfect. Too precise.” Her jaw tightened. “You didn’t just manipulate the court. You engineered everything.”

I held her gaze. “What exactly are you accusing me of?”

She studied me, her expression unreadable.

Then, softly—“Tell me who you really are.”

Silence.

She was too close.

Too close.

And soon, I would have to make a choice.

Would I let her see the real me?

Or would I do what I had always done?

Eliminate the threat.

The Game Changes

That night, I sat alone in my chambers, staring at the two messages on my desk.

One from the past. A name I had buried.

One from the present. A woman who refused to look away.

Two paths. Two dangers.

And I was running out of time to decide which one I would face first.

Gregor was gone.

But the real game?

Had only just begun.

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