Chapter 35: Betrayal Unveiled

Finally, the day of handing Liria over arrived. A few days ago, she had seemed to recover from the spider bite, but today, fever gripped her again. Her skin was pallid, her lips red, burning with heat. Sweat clung to her brow despite the cool evening air.

The sun was beginning its descent, staining the sky crimson, and casting a blood-red reflection on the sea. Dastan and Liria hid behind a cluster of trees, their forms barely shadowed in the dimming light. They had been waiting too long. Liria swayed slightly, her weakened body leaning against the rough bark for support.

Then, at last, the ship arrived.

Dastan pulled Liria toward the seashore with an urgent grip. "Come on, move faster."

Liria stumbled, her legs trembling beneath her. Every step felt heavier, her fever-drained body barely keeping up. She forced herself into a weak run, her small frame swaying like a leaf caught in the wind.

At last, they halted a few feet from the looming ship, its dark silhouette casting a long shadow over the shore.

A towering vessel, dark and imposing, docked at the shore. It was silent, its sails barely fluttering. Heavy boots thudded against the wooden planks as figures descended the gangway—cloaked in black, faceless beneath their hoods. But what caught Liria's attention wasn't the cloaks—it was the glint of armor beneath them. A familiar armor.

Her breath hitched. The insignia of tiger's head embroidered on their chests—she knew it well. The sigil of Eastanzarth.

Her heart pounded violently, drowning out the sound of the waves. The sight of the figures filled her with a dread so deep it rooted her to the ground. And then, stepping between the guards, emerging from the veil of shadows, came a woman.

Nara.

Liria's breath left her in a shaky exhale. Nara—her family's most trusted servant, the woman who had been by the family's side for years—stood before her, draped in a dark cloak. And behind her, dressed in regal elegance, was another figure.

Queen Celeste.

Liria's lips parted, a strangled sound escaping her throat. Her knees nearly buckled, but Dastan's grip on her arm held her steady.

"I asked for her head," Queen Celeste's voice rang sharp as steel. "Not her body. And yet, here she stands—alive."

The queen's gaze fixed on Dastan with an eerie calm, but when she turned her eyes upon Liria, something flickered—something dark, unreadable, a flicker of something between shock and calculation. Was she unsettled that Liria had survived? Or was it the realization that Liria finally found out who was behind the attack and she saw her true colours eventually?

Liria, despite the fever, despite the exhaustion, understood in that instant what this meant.

Her voice cracked as she spoke. "You…" she whispered. "You ordered the attack on the castle."

The queen's expression did not falter, but her silence confirmed everything.

Dastan tensed beside her, his hand instinctively tightening around the hilt of his sword. His gaze shifted from Liria to the queen, realization dawning upon him. He had taken this job, this exchange, without knowing who had truly pulled the strings. Now, the truth stood before him in its most treacherous form.

"How… how could you?" Liria's voice trembled. She took an unsteady step forward. "How could you do this, my queen?"

Queen Celeste exhaled, as if tired of the charade. "Yes," she admitted. "I ordered the deaths of you, your brother, and your mother."

Liria staggered back, bile rising in her throat.

"Elnar should be the heir to Eastanzarth," queen Celeste continued, her voice laced with resentment. "Not your brother. I was there when your father fought for our kingdom. I bled for him, stood beside him when he dreamed of a better Eastanzarth. And then—then he met your mother."

The queen's hands trembled, her voice rising. "She took everything that should have been mine! Your father was mine, this kingdom was meant to be ruled by my son. But your mother—" her voice cracked, then hardened into steel, "—she stole it all."

Liria shook her head in disbelief. "My mother was kind to you," she rasped. "You always seemed like family. How could you do this to us?"

"Kind?" Celeste let out a bitter laugh. "Your mother knew Mathias was married. To me! Yet she agreed to marry him."

The words struck Liria like a blade to the heart. Her breath hitched, the ground beneath her seemingly crumbling.

"She knew," Celeste continued, eyes burning with years of unspoken hatred. "But she didn't care. And neither did your father. I was surprised when your father returned to Eastanzarth from the battle with a stranger. And married."

Liria's world reeled. She wanted to scream, to deny it, to call Celeste a liar—but the raw pain in the woman's voice, the venom, the grief—it was too real.

"And now," the queen said coldly, "Eastanzarth will belong to my son. As it should have from the beginning."

Liria clenched her fists. "Where is she?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper. "Where is my mother?"

Celeste tilted her chin. "She is dead."

Liria's entire body stiffened.

"No," she gasped. "You're lying."

"She is dead," Celeste repeated. "And soon, you will be too."

Liria turned to Dastan, desperation in her fevered gaze. "Tell me it isn't true," she pleaded. "Tell me you and your people didn't kill her."

Dastan did not flinch. "It's true."

Liria's world shattered. Her legs gave out, and she fell to her knees.

"I asked for her head, Alasin," Celeste said impatiently. "Why is it still attached to her body?"

Dastan's grip on his sword tightened as the queen pulled it from its sheath and pressed it into his hand. "Do as you're told," she hissed, "and you will get your reward."

Liria was yanked to her feet by the guards, her body too weak to resist their hold.

Dastan stared at the blade, then at Liria. Her face was deathly pale, eyes hollow with anguish, but still, she held his gaze.

He raised the sword. The queen's voice sliced through the tension. "Behead her."

Dastan exhaled. His grip tightened. Liria closed her eyes.

The blade came down.

A head rolled onto the sand.

Then, in a swift, unexpected movement, Dastan swung his sword once more. Another figure crumpled—a guard, slain in an instant.

"Run," Dastan commanded. "RUN!"

Steel clashed behind them as Dastan fought off the onslaught of guards, buying them precious seconds. Liria stumbled, but adrenaline propelled her forward, feet barely touching the ground as she bolted toward the woods.

"For the gods' sake, Liria," Dastan growled, grabbing her wrist as he caught up. "Run faster. Just this once."

She forced herself to move, her breath ragged. They crashed through the trees, the sounds of pursuit never far behind.

Finally, they reached their horse. Dastan lifted Liria onto the saddle, then swung himself up behind her, gripping the reins. Without hesitation, he dug his heels into the horse's sides.

The hooves thundered against the forest soil, and the chase began.