Royalty on a verge

Edmund tightened his grip on the reins as he urged his horse forward. Dawn broke over the hills in pale, silent light, casting long shadows on the villa up ahead. News had reached him just hours ago—someone had infiltrated Charles' estate, leaving only the silence of dispatched guards in their wake. Christopher's spies hadn't identified the intruder, but Edmund's instincts churned with a familiar suspicion. Whoever had dared to pull this off was either reckless… or mad.

The villa emerged in the mist, its walls dimly outlined against the sunrise. Dismounting silently, he moved through the courtyard, senses sharpened, every sound amplified. He could feel it—a shadow lingering, a silent presence that prickled the edge of his awareness. This wasn't just anyone.

Then, a flash of movement. Edmund moved, darting into a darkened hallway. A figure was slipping through a doorway at the end of the corridor, moving fast but with an unmistakable precision. He followed, heart pounding with both determination and something deeper—a curiosity laced with dread.

When he stepped into the moonlit room, the figure had paused. The intruder stood facing away, but as if sensing him, she turned slowly to meet his gaze, and time seemed to stop.

"Ivana…" he whispered, the name catching in his throat like a ghost he hadn't expected to confront.

Ivana's face was a mask of calm, though her eyes burned with a familiar intensity he hadn't seen in years. Her hand hovered near the hilt of her blade, as if deciding whether he was friend or foe. "Edmund," she replied, her voice steady, yet a tremor lingered beneath her composure. "And here I thought Charles' villa was the last place you'd turn up."

"So did I," he shot back, his voice tight. "And here I find you, sneaking around like a thief. Or have you given up subtlety entirely?"

She smirked, though it didn't reach her eyes. "You know I don't play by your rules, Edmund. I'm here on my terms. As always."

"Oh, I remember your terms all too well," he replied sharply, taking a step closer. "No warnings, no allegiances, just you—always running headlong into whatever path suits you in the moment. Do you even know what you're up against here?"

Ivana's eyes narrowed, her jaw clenched. "And what? You do? You don't even know why I'm here, but you presume to know my purpose."

"Purpose?" He let out a short, bitter laugh. "Since when do you even have one, Ivana? I thought you were too busy running from everything to actually commit to anything."

A flash of anger sparked in her eyes, and for a moment, he could see the fire she'd kept smothered, buried beneath years of rivalry and resentment. "You don't know the first thing about what drives me, Edmund," she shot back, her voice barely above a whisper but charged with emotion. "You—of all people—lost that right a long time ago."

"And yet, here we are," he replied, the tension between them thick and almost tangible. "Old ghosts chasing shadows in the night."

She looked at him, her gaze wavering as memories flared—memories of the childhood they'd shared, the promises that had once tethered them together. "I didn't ask you to follow me here," she said, though her tone softened almost imperceptibly.

"Follow you?" he repeated, incredulous. "I'd be a fool to chase after someone who barely knows where she's going."

Ivana's eyes darkened, but there was a flicker of vulnerability that slipped through, gone almost as soon as it appeared. "You think you have everything figured out, don't you?" she whispered, the words carrying a hint of bitterness. "But you're as lost as I am."

They stood there, a silence hanging between them like a wound. But he saw it—the faint crack in her mask, the hesitance she tried to conceal. He reached out, his hand hovering close to hers, a question caught in the unspoken space between them.

"What are we doing here, Ivana?" he asked softly, his voice carrying a weight that startled even him. "Is this what we've come to? Battling each other over secrets and lies, while pretending there's nothing left between us?"

She swallowed, the facade slipping further, revealing an anguish she couldn't fully hide. "I don't know," she whispered, almost to herself. "Maybe we're just playing our parts—no different from any other pawn in this game."

"Pawn?" His voice sharpened, and he reached out, grasping her arm before she could turn away. "Is that what you think you are? After everything we've been through?"

She pulled back, but her gaze softened as she looked at him. "And what are we, Edmund? Opposites on the board, chasing down paths that never lead us together."

"Maybe…" he whispered, "we're more alike than you want to admit."

Her eyes glistened, something fierce and raw igniting behind them. "If I am like you, then you should be very, very afraid," she murmured, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips, though it didn't mask the sadness there.

A sudden noise from the hallway shattered the fragile stillness between them. She looked away, the fleeting connection vanishing as she straightened, slipping back into the guarded, enigmatic figure she always had been. She turned to leave, but as she reached the doorway, she glanced back, her expression unreadable.

"I trust you know your way out," she said softly. "But don't think for a second that I'll spare you if you cross me again."

"Cross you?" he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "I don't think I've ever stopped."

A glimmer of something undefinable crossed her face—anger, longing, perhaps even regret. "Goodbye, Edmund," she said, her voice firm, though he caught the faintest tremor. And with that, she disappeared into the shadows, leaving him standing alone, the weight of their past pressing in like a storm that had never fully passed.

---

Later That Night

Dante found Ivana as she prepared to leave the city. He approached her cautiously, handing her a sealed message, his expression unreadable.

"Something big," he murmured. "Charles' men have been moving assets all over the region, but I found something else. Records about Edmund."

Ivana's heart skipped, her mind racing with everything she'd felt in that moonlit room. "Edmund… What does it mean?"

Dante's gaze sharpened, a warning lingering in his eyes. "It means that whatever you felt in there, you'd best be careful. Edmund's in this game for his own reasons. He's dangerous, and he's not playing by anyone's rules but his own."

Ivana clutched the message, a mixture of doubt and hope battling within her. Her encounter with Edmund had left more questions than answers, the taste of unspoken words lingering like smoke. Their paths, once so innocent and intertwined, were now twisted in ways she hadn't imagined. And yet, as she left the city behind, she couldn't deny the spark of anticipation—and the quiet fear—that they would meet again