A deal with the devil

The rhythmic clicking of their boots against the polished stone floors echoed through the grand corridors of the palace. Neither man spoke as they moved with purpose, their presence alone demanding the attention of those they passed. Servants stepped aside, lowering their heads, while guards stiffened their posture in silent acknowledgment of their status.

Logan walked a step behind Ceaser, his usual sharp gaze scanning their surroundings. He had long since mastered the art of silence in Ceaser's presence-understanding that unnecessary words were wasted breath when dealing with the cold-hearted prince.

As they approached a pair of intricately carved double doors, Logan stepped forward, raising his hand to knock. The sound reverberated through the corridor, but there was no hesitation in his movements.

A pause.

Then a voice from inside.

"Come in."

Logan pushed the doors open, and both men stepped inside.

The chamber was lavish but tastefully decorated, filled with the subtle yet unmistakable presence of wealth and power. Rich velvet drapes framed tall windows, and a massive fireplace crackled, casting flickering shadows along the walls. Despite the elegance, there was an underlying air of authority-this was not a space designed for comfort, but for control.

And seated in the center of it all, a glass of wine in hand, was a man in his late fifties.

Despite his age, he carried himself with the strength and presence of a warrior still in his prime. His sharp eyes flickered toward them, calculating and unreadable. There was an aura around him-one that spoke of years spent in battle, of blood spilled and wars won.

A man feared and respected throughout the kingdom.

Duke Eiden Florian.

The War Lord of the Kingdom.

And Amilia's father.

Ceaser's cold gaze locked onto him as he strode forward with his usual unreadable expression.

"Duke Eiden."

At the sound of his name, the older man set his wine glass down on the ornate table beside him and stood, meeting Ceaser's gaze without hesitation.

"Greetings, Your Highness," Eiden said, his voice calm but firm. He spoke not as a man bowing before his future king, but as an equal.

They both took their seats across from each other, the tension in the air settling like a battle waiting to unfold.

Logan remained standing behind Ceaser, his eyes flicking between the two men. Though his face remained neutral, his fingers rested lightly against the hilt of his sword-a silent reminder that he was always ready for a fight.

The room was steeped in silence.

Then finally, Ceaser spoke.

"Why did you summon me here?"

Eiden leaned forward slightly, clasping his hands together, his expression unwavering.

"I need a favor."

Ceaser arched a brow, unimpressed. "Go ahead."

Eiden met his gaze directly. "I want you to cancel the marriage."

The air in the room thickened, charged with something unseen but undeniably dangerous.

Ceaser's jaw tensed.

His fingers drummed against the armrest of his chair as he pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, annoyance flickering through his otherwise emotionless features.

A deliberate silence stretched between them before Ceaser finally spoke.

"May I ask why?"

Eiden remained steady. "As you can see, my daughter is fragile. And you, on the other hand..." He trailed off, his sharp gaze assessing Ceaser like a general evaluating an unpredictable enemy.

There were too many rumors surrounding the prince-whispers of his cruelty, his ruthlessness, his lack of emotion. A man feared more than respected. A future king who would rule not with love, but with iron and blood.

As Amilia's father, Eiden had every reason to be concerned.

But Ceaser saw right through him.

His expression remained unreadable, his voice chilling as he finally responded.

"You think I'll kill her once I take the throne?"

Eiden's expression remained neutral, but there was a flicker of something behind his eyes.

"No," he said finally. "I wouldn't allow that as long as I'm by her side. But... you're too ruthless to be by hers."

A ghost of a smirk touched Ceaser's lips.

"Ruthless?" he echoed, voice deceptively light. "You think that's all I am?"

He didn't bother denying it.

Because he was ruthless.

Far worse than what people whispered about him.

And yet...

"I want someone who will love and cherish her," Eiden continued. "And you're not that type, are you?"

It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

But Ceaser remained indifferent, his gaze empty.

"Is that the only reason?"

Eiden hesitated for a moment.

Then, after a brief silence, he exhaled and leaned forward.

"I'm afraid not," he admitted. "Everyone in the kingdom knows about... that time. And I don't want my daughter to suffer because of it."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.

Ceaser's fingers twitched against the armrest, his previously indifferent expression shifting into something darker.

Logan stiffened.

That time.

The words hung in the air like a blade poised to strike.

Eiden had struck a nerve.

For the first time in the conversation, Ceaser's irritation was visible.

His voice was laced with quiet venom as he finally responded.

"I'm afraid I'll have to decline."

Eiden didn't move, but there was a flicker of tension in his eyes.

"If you're worried about the royal selection, I can help you with that-"

Ceaser cut him off with a sharp look.

This conversation was over.

A tense silence followed before Ceaser slowly rose to his feet. Logan moved instantly, stepping beside him in a protective stance.

Eiden remained seated, watching them carefully.

Ceaser's gaze was steady, but there was an unmistakable finality in his tone when he spoke.

"The marriage stands."

Eiden's lips pressed into a thin line.

"You're making a mistake," he said quietly.

Ceaser let out a low, humorless chuckle. "I don't make mistakes."

With that, he turned on his heel and strode toward the door.

Logan followed, but not before casting one last glance at Eiden. His expression remained unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze-something almost warning.

Then, without another word, the two left the chamber, the doors closing with a soft but final thud.

Eiden's POV

The moment they were gone, Eiden leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly.

A weight settled over his shoulders, heavier than before.

He reached for his wine glass and took a slow sip, his mind replaying every word of their conversation.

So, Ceaser refused to back down.

Not that he was surprised.

The prince was stubborn. Dangerous. A man who did not let go of what was his.

And now, his daughter was bound to him.

Eiden's grip on his glass tightened.

For the first time in years, an unfamiliar feeling coiled in his chest.

Unease.

This marriage...

Would it be Amilia's salvation?

Or her ruin?