Sufiya PoV
I watched the queen and her companions from across the hall. Their whispers, their tense expressions—it was clear Ailia was working behind our back. I had to admit, it was a clever move by his liege. Testing their resolve with the threat of dishonor, forcing their hand while appearing generous.
The Sultan, Fasil Adham, was a master of this game. He played people like a musician plays an instrument, coaxing from them the very notes he desired. He saw the world not as a collection of nations, but as a chessboard, and he was always playing to win. His ambition was as vast as the desert, as unyielding as the mountains. He wouldn't help them out of the goodness of his heart. He would help them if, and only if he got something out of it. Even a night with the queen of Kuroriku or a mysterious woman like Eumhun was enough for a power hungry womanizer like him. Only a man like Kuroriku's nothern grand duke, Setsugen, could rival him in ambition and in cunning.
