The girl looked a bit uneasy, clearly unsure why the King's guest was suddenly so curious about her.
"I… I was originally from the kingdom of Runevale," she said carefully. "My father sold me into slavery when I was young."
Her voice was soft but steady. My chest tightened.
"Wait," I whispered. "Are you… are you Irene's daughter?"
That couldn't be possible. Could it? To think I'd meet Irene's child here… in Persia of all places.
Her eyes widened slightly. "Yes, my lady. But… how do you know my mothe—"
I didn't let her finish. I threw my arms around her and pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly.
"My lady?" she said, startled by the sudden embrace.
Tears spilled from my eyes before I could stop them. "I'm sorry, Christine. It was all my fault. If it wasn't for me, Irene… she'd still be..."
I cried on her shoulder, my grip around her growing tighter with every sob. She stood still, unsure of what to do, but her hands slowly rose and rested gently on my back.
After a while, the tears slowed, and I pulled away, wiping my face with a towel she gave me.
Christine looked at me with so much hope in her eyes. "My lady… do you know where my mother and little brother are? Are they safe? Are they doing well?" Her voice cracked a little. "Please… tell me they're okay. I miss them so much."
I turned and sat on the edge of the bed, my heart heavy.
"Come," I said softly, tilting my head toward the space beside me. "Sit with me."
She shook her head quickly. "I couldn't possibly. You're the King's honored guest. I'm just a servant."
"Don't worry about that," I said with a small smile. "It's fine, really."
She hesitated, then slowly nodded. "If you insist… my lady." She sat down gently on my right, keeping her hands folded neatly on her lap.
"Please," I said, turning slightly to face her. "Call me Majesty."
"I… I don't think I can," she said, shaking her head again. "I wouldn't feel right."
That soft voice. That humble nature. That quiet strength in her eyes.
There was no doubt anymore.
She was Irene's daughter.
"Christine," I began softly, my voice steady but my chest heavy, "I'm going to tell you everything about your mother."
She looked straight at me, those scarlet eyes never blinking, never wavering. They were just like Irene's—except darker, more guarded. There was a shadow in them, something that hadn't been there in her mother.
So I told her everything.
How I had been exiled.
How I met Irene by chance.
How she saved me again and again.
How I saw her dead body.
And finally… how I ended up in the kingdom of Persia.
Christine listened in complete silence. Not once did she interrupt. But the moment I stopped, the questions began.
"You're really the Princess of Runevale? The queen actually tried to kill you?" she asked, disbelief and awe mixing in her voice.
She paused, then smiled gently. "I'm glad you're safe. And I'm even more glad my mother escaped Runevale after all this time. It means she made it out… she's doing well."
Her words made my heart ache.
"I think you misheard me," I said softly. "Irene is dead."
I watched her carefully, expecting her to cry, scream, or at least break down. But instead… she stayed calm. Too calm. It unsettled me.
"My lady," she said, tilting her head slightly, "you said you heard that from Javier, right?"
I nodded slowly. "Yes. He told me he killed Irene… and Enoch. I also saw their bodies with my own eyes." I tried to recall the details exactly as he had said them.
But Christine simply shook her head. "Don't believe him. My mother isn't dead. Javier doesn't have what it takes to kill her."
There was no hesitation in her voice. Just confidence. Unshakable belief.
"Bu...but I saw her body with my own eyes."
She then told me something I hadn't known.
"My mother was part of the execution squad. She fought side by side with General Orin. She was one of the best. But something happened… something serious. After that, most of her abilities were sealed by the Queen."
I frowned. "Why would my mother seal Irene's abilities? What happened?"
Christine shrugged gently. "She never told me the full story. But the rumor was that even the Queen found it too troublesome to kill her. That's why she sealed her abilities instead."
I sat in silence, staring at the floor. I couldn't imagine Irene that way—so powerful she even earned the name Blood Psychopath. It sounded like a legend.
"Was she really that strong?" I asked, unsure if I wanted to believe it.
Christine smiled. "She wasn't strong in the way you think. She didn't fight with raw power. She was a master of Šërēĺįťh; one of her spells could actually alter reality itself."
I blinked in surprise. That level of mastery was beyond anything I had seen.
"You said you saw her body, right? And my little brother beside her?"
I nodded slowly. That image was still burned into my memory.
"Then I'll tell you this," Christine said, her voice firm now, "even in death, she would never allow my little brother to die. Never. What you saw was probably a high level illusions incantation. Since her abilities were sealed, using high level Šërēĺįťh would weaken her."
She turned toward me, eyes burning with quiet fire.
"Somewhere out there, my mother is still alive. She's trying to break free. And when she does, nothing in this world will stop her. She would come look for you, since she knows you headed to Persia. And when that happens, I'll finally get the chance to see her again."
I couldn't stop the tears from falling—tears of joy this time. If what Christine said was true… then Irene and little Enoch might still be alive. That hope, no matter how small, felt like sunlight breaking through a stormy sky. My heart beat faster with every thought of seeing them again.
"Before anything else, my lady… you shouldn't be late to the meeting," Christine said gently, pulling me back to reality.
Right—the meeting. I had completely forgotten. Lord Draven had asked me to attend.
Christine guided me toward the bath area just beyond the chamber doors. The floor was made of black marble, veined with gold, and the scent of lavender and wild roses floated in the air. Steam curled softly from the water, swirling like mist above a lake. She helped me undress, careful and respectful with every movement. Her every move reminded me of Irene.
The warm water was a relief against my skin, easing the tension in my shoulders and neck. Christine gently poured water over my hair, her hands delicate yet skilled. It reminded me of Irene—how she took care of me during those early days in hiding. For a moment, I closed my eyes and let myself feel safe.
After the bath, she led me back into the room where several dresses were neatly arranged on a long wooden rack. Silk, velvet, lace—all in every shade imaginable. My eyes fell on one in particular: a deep red gown, smooth like firelight and embroidered with golden threads around the sleeves and waist. It had an open back and flowed down in soft, graceful folds like spilled wine. It wasn't just elegant—it was bold.
"This one," I said, running my fingers along the fabric.
Christine helped me dress and adjusted the collar gently, then stepped back to look me over.
"You look beautiful, my lady," she said with a proud smile.
I smiled back, but just as she turned to leave, something caught my eye.
"Wait a minute, Christine… what happened to your hand?" I asked, spotting a small wound on her wrist. It looked recent—a thin cut, barely scabbed over.
She flinched just slightly, then quickly pulled her sleeve down.
"Oh, it's nothing. Don't worry about it." She waved it off and hurried toward the door.
"Christine—"
My smile faded. Something wasn't right.
Just as Christine reached for the door handle, there was a knock.
She paused and looked back at me, waiting for my permission. I gave a small nod. She opened the door slowly, and in stepped a tall figure dressed in black and silver armor—Starlion.
"Lady Majesty, I've come to escort you to the throne room," he said respectfully, his deep voice calm and composed.
Christine bowed slightly and excused herself, slipping past him and vanishing down the hallway. I watched her go, her steps quick—almost too quick. Something about her still felt… off. That wound on her wrist, the way she avoided my eyes. It didn't sit right with me.
I turned my attention back to Starlion.
"Hello, Starlion," I greeted.
He gave a small smile. "I'm glad to see you're doing well, my lady. You look radiant today."
"Thank you," I said softly, letting him lead me out of the room.
The hallway was grand and quiet, the walls lined with dark stone and flickering torches. Red and gold tapestries hung like royal banners, telling stories I didn't recognize. The air smelled faintly of burning incense.
But despite the beauty of the palace, my mind kept drifting back to Christine.
There was something strange about her...
"Starlion," I said, breaking the silence between us, "as a guest of the King, what restrictions do I have? I mean… are there places I shouldn't go or things I shouldn't ask? Lord Draven has already given me more than enough kindness. I don't want to overstep."
He glanced at me from the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable for a second.
"The King is your only restriction," he said.
I stopped walking for a second, confused. "What? What do you mean by that?"
He turned to face me fully now. His expression was serious, voice low.
"There are no guards to stop you. No locked doors meant to keep you out. No orders to keep you in. The only one who can stop you in this kingdom… is the King himself. As long as he allows it, you are free to do as you wish."
I stared at him, unsure whether that was comforting or terrifying.