Varyan had left, but the disturbed air still lingered.
Kaivan stumbled backwards, his back hitting the wall behind him. He raised his fist, shaking, clenched with fury and helplessness, and slammed it into the wall. A dull thud echoed through the hallway. Blood seeped from his knuckles and dripped onto the floor.
He didn't even flinch.
His knees gave in. And then he dropped.
He collapsed onto the floor like a broken man. Not like a king, but like a father. A father who had just lost the one thing he wasn't ready to lose. His shoulders shook, his sobs raw, hollow, and uncontrollable. The sound echoed through the halls.
Even the stone walls seemed to tremble in pity.
Time lost all meaning.
Minutes passed — maybe more.
Footsteps echoed in the corridor — first quick, then slower, hesitant. The soft clack of boots stopped a few feet away.
Kaivan wiped his face with the back of his hand, breath still shaky. His eyes, once proud and sharp, were now bloodshot with grief. He stood slowly, not with grace.
Varyan stood before him. He looked at his trembling fist, dripping with blood.
"Majesty."
Kaivan only nodded.
"Her Majesty... she's begun the preparations. For Aariv's body," Varyan said quietly.
Kaivan didn't reply. His jaw clenched. Varyan could see the grief in his eyes.
"How did it happen?" Kaivan finally asked, voice hoarse and hollow.
"We're still looking into it. No guards were stationed near the corridor last night. Only two at the corridor's entrance."
Kaivan narrowed his eyes. "Why?"
"Aariv's order. He wanted... privacy."
Kaivan turned slowly, his eyes meeting Varyan's. "Privacy?" His voice was ice. "And we just… gave it to him?"
"They assumed the inner palace was safe, Your Majesty. No one questioned the order."
"No place is safe." Kaivan's voice cracked. "Especially not for a king who still believes everyone loves him."
Varyan hesitated, then nodded. "We found signs of a prolonged fight inside the chamber— sword marks everywhere. Blood on the walls. Floor. It lasted over an hour."
Kaivan flinched. "An hour?"
"Yes, sir. The physician said the wounds on Aariv's body... they vary. Some are older, others fresher. He was still fighting till the end."
Kaivan's expression twisted in disbelief. "He was no master swordsman. You know that."
"We all knew that. But either he improved in secret... or his will to survive pushed him beyond what training ever could."
Kaivan was silent for a beat. "Did he... did he call for help?"
"There's no record of any shouting. Either he didn't want to alert anyone… or someone made sure no one heard him."
"Poison?"
"None found. No foreign substance detected in the food or drink," Varyan replied.
Kaivan exhaled sharply. "What about forced entry?"
"No broken windows. No forced locks. No tampering."
"So, it was someone inside."
Varyan nodded slowly. "That's the only conclusion. Someone who knew the layout, the shifts, the blind spots."
Kaivan turned to him fully. "A council member?"
"Possibly. Or someone with access. A noble. Or a rat from the Eastern alliance. Even the Northern continent can't be ruled out."
Kaivan raised a hand. "Enough with possibilities. I want truths."
"We're digging through every corridor, every shadow. But… if I'm being honest, sir…"
"Speak."
"I don't think this was political."
Kaivan's brows lifted.
"I think it was personal," Varyan said, voice low. "The way Aariv was attacked... it wasn't swift or calculated like a professional hit. It was emotional. Messy. Desperate."
"You think this is vengeance?"
"Feels like it."
Kaivan was quiet for a moment. His mind was running.
"I want names," he said. "I want every guest who came to the palace in the last two weeks. Every cook, stable boy, court scholar, minister, maid, and servant. Look into their families. Their letters. Everything. Crosscheck everything, don't leave a single clue."
"Yes, Majesty."
"But…" Kaivan looked down at his blood-stained hand, then back at Varyan. "Not today. Let them mourn their king. The hunt can begin after the funeral."
Varyan nodded. "Understood."
"I want his body brought to the city square. No coffins. No closed halls. Let them see him one last time. I want his killer to see his face one more time. To know the price of touching the blood of Vayansar."
"We'll prepare the stage."
Footsteps echoed again. This time softer.
It was the doctor—a woman with kind eyes and steady hands.
"Is she okay?" Kaivan asked before she even spoke.
"She's stable—for now," the doctor said. "But she lost a lot of blood. We need blood. Fast!"
"Varyan—"
"I'll handle it." he turned around and sprinted off.
The doctor approached cautiously. "She's in a coma-like state. I managed to stop the bleeding and stabilised her, but… Majesty, we don't know if she'll wake."
"Are there… any torture marks on her?
The doctor hesitated for a second. "None. But—"
Kaivan's gaze sharpened. "But?"
"There were red bruises… around her ankles and wrists. Like she'd been tied. Struggled. For a long time."
His jaw clenched. "And?"
"There was a deep cut on her wrist. A clean one. Not from the struggle. She was left to bleed out."
He grabbed her wrist, not hard, but firmly. "She has to live."
She looked into his eyes and saw something terrifying there. A storm was waiting for one more reason to break loose.
"I'll do everything I can," she whispered.
He nodded and released her hand.
She nodded and left without another word.
Kaivan stood alone for a moment longer, his body no longer trembling.
And for the first time since the morning… his grief turned into something else.
Cold.
Darker
He looked out the window, eyes scanning the distant city skyline.
"Let them pray," he whispered, "that Saarya doesn't wake up. Because if she does… she'll remember."
And if she remembers—someone's going to die.
His whisper echoed through the palace like a vow:
"Whoever did this... will drown in their own blood."