Damon's eyes flared open.
"What nonsense! Didn't I tell you not to speak of magic in this palace? And how would you even know that?"
The woman trembled, bowing so quickly her hair brushed the floor. "My Lord… please forgive me. But I wanted to tell you the truth. You know my father was among the researchers who worked on the anti-magic stone. I learned things from him, and I know what I saw."
His eyes narrowed. "That's impossible. Magic is forbidden here. Why would she ever tap into the dark parts?"
Sibyl lifted her gaze to him. "Why would I lie to you, Your Majesty? In the two years we've been married, do you think I would try to frame the Queen?"
Damon studied her, gaze unwavering. Her eyes didn't flicker once.
Sibyl was his third wife. She had entered the marriage for political gain, but somewhere along the line, she had tumbled into real devotion and fallen for him. And that devotion made her desperate for his approval, which included telling the truth when it mattered.
He struggled to believe it. Ingrid would…?
"Why?" He asked, voice low.
"I can't be completely certain," Sibyl said. "But I think… it was to block her womb."
Damon froze. "What?"
She nodded, steady and resolute with her claims.
Among all Damon's wives, only Ingrid remained childless. Euphemia had given him a son and a daughter, and Sibyl was pregnant.
That made Euphemia the most influential woman in the palace, the Queen Mother. Her son was the Crown Prince.
Damon's thoughts tangled. So that was the reason… for Ingrid's childlessness.
But why? Why would she do something so senseless?
His fists tightened. "I've heard you. Go back to her chambers and stay with her."
Sibyl bowed and walked away, leaving Damon alone in dark, circling thoughts.
If his wife had truly done what Sibyl claimed, she would be executed under Askye's laws.
Damon frowned. Nowhere in the kingdom's history had a queen ever been executed.
He let out a long breath, hands settling on his hips as he stared at the dimly lit floor. With a low click of his tongue, he decided to return to his room.
When he entered, Euphemia was seated on the bed, her expression twisted in displeasure.
"Euphy," he called softly as he sat beside her. She shoved his hand away the moment he reached for her.
"Euphy, it was an urgent matter. I had to attend to it."
She shot him a sharp, accusing look. "And you had to leave me. Just like that?"
"I'm sorry, Love." He pressed a kiss to her collarbone. She pretended to resist, though she let his touch linger on her skin.
"Euphy."
"Hm?" She answered, soft and expectant.
"You should go back to your chambers. It's getting late."
Her jaw fell open, stunned. "I don't understand. I thought you were–"
"Euphemia." His tone sharpened. She raised a brow, took a long breath, already recognizing the tone that meant he wanted to be alone.
"Okay, Your Majesty."
She snatched her coat from the floor, wrapped it over her naked body, and hurried out of the room.
Damon slouched against the pillows, dragging a hand through his hair with a rough exhale.
What his wife had done was treason. Refusing to give him a child, denying the kingdom an heir, and worst of all, using magic. Forbidden magic.
Why would she make such a decision when she knew the consequences better than anyone?
If he brought this before the Council of Lords, they would demand her head without hesitation. And he knew, painfully well, that he wouldn't be able to save her when that moment came.
Meanwhile, somewhere in the dungeon of the Askye Palace, a man and a girl sat wrapped in confusion. Nyssa couldn't fathom why Oren's magic had suddenly failed him. He couldn't even teleport back.
He had begun pacing around the cell, and Nyssa grew worried that the guards would hear him.
"Stop pacing, you will alert the guards," she whispered.
"They would think it's you," he muttered, lost in thought. Then he stopped and released a long, frustrated sigh.
"Princess, you don't understand the gravity of this situation." His voice tinged with worry.
"Of course I do." She frowned. "It's probably the overuse of forbidden magic." Right?
He turned sharply toward her. "No. The fire and the cloak weren't forbidden magic."
"Then… maybe your body is weak?" she tried.
He sighed. "Even if I was weak, I should still be able to manipulate fire. But now, nothing!"
Nyssa flinched at his outburst. "Shh. Keep your voice down." Did he want to make things worse?
He sank back down beside her. "This isn't good, Princess."
Her gaze slid away. "Maybe tomorrow. It could work."
"No." He shook his head. "It's as if something is repelling my magic. As if it's being forced back."
Nyssa frowned. "How? It's just the two of us here."
He went quiet for a stretch before cursing. "Shit."
Nyssa's head snapped toward him. "What?" She was completely lost now.
He exhaled, troubled. It couldn't be. It was supposed to be extinct.
He stood and began pacing again. Nyssa smacked her forehead.
"Could you calm down?"
He scoffed. "Seems you're good at staying composed in dire situations."
Nyssa shrugged her shoulders in the dark. "My mother always taught me to keep calm, observe and think. That's what we should be doing."
"There's only one explanation for this. An anti-magic substance has been placed in this palace."
Nyssa's eyes widened. "What?"
"The onyx stone," he whispered, caught in his own grim thoughts. Then a bitter chuckle escaped him. "Damon is always one step ahead. That bastard."
"The onyx stone?" She repeated. "But it's extinct."
"That's what I thought too."
Nyssa looked down at her chains. "I… I can't believe that."
Oren walked to the steel bars, gripping one of them. He pressed his forehead to the cold metal, a reflection of defeat.
Nyssa's heart sank as the realization gnawed at her. No… it couldn't be.
"Oren," she called softly, "if… if we can't use magic, then what does that mean?"
He gave a wan, crooked smile and turned in her direction. "You already know the answer, Your Highness."
They were going to die.