Chapter 215

Chapter 215: Chapter 215

Julian

The silver keycard clicked smoothly against the lock, and the door to my private quarters unlocked with a soft, pleasant chime.

I stepped inside my room, pulling the sleeves of my shirt down over my wrists. The cool morning air filled the space, carrying the faint, fresh scent of pine from the open balcony windows.

A soft smile touched my lips as I walked over to the mirror hanging on the far wall. I picked up a silver comb, carefully smoothing my pale hair back into place.

Seeing as he could not keep me locked up any longer, Drake had reluctantly given me back my freedom after discovering that my pulse was tied directly to the heart of the baby growing inside Lysander.

Every breath I took kept that child alive. If my heart stopped, that little life ended in the exact same second.

The baby has always been Drake’s dream so of course he would opt out of anything that could be a risk to the baby and coincidentally, that included me living in the dungeon.

I set the comb down, checking my reflection one last time before turning toward the door.

Drake thought he could keep me trapped while his scouts searched for a way to break the dark thread. But breaking such a curse took time, to be precise, it took years and that depends on if they could find a way at all.

Until then, this house was my battleground. And if I couldn’t tear down Drake’s precious little world with a blade, I would pick it apart piece by piece with a smile.

I walked down the corridor toward the kitchen.

The house was quiet at this hour. Most of the staff were busy with their morning routines, and the guards posted along the hallway stood still as statues. They looked at me with open disgust as I passed, their jaws tight, their hands resting near their weapons. I simply smiled politely at them, giving a small, elegant nod as I walked past.

It must be an unpleasant reality for them because they could not touch me. I had become the most important person in this house.

It was a well deserving status.

I stepped into the bright, modern kitchen.

On the counter was a tray probably prepared by the doctor. It held a small bowl of sliced fruit, a warm damp cloth, and two glass vials filled with a clear, golden liquid which was Dr. Star’s daily vitality tonic, brewed specifically to keep Lysander’s body strong.

I looked around. The kitchen staff were out, their voices echoing from behind the closed wooden door.

I stepped up to the counter and picked up one of the glass vials, holding it up to the light. It was a harmless mixture of herbs and clean magic, designed to settle his stomach and keep his core warm.

I couldn’t pour the poison into it because it might trigger something and the doctor might just be called and he would discover something was wrong and well, there was also the part of if i succeeded, then it might make the baby sick, which would risk my own skin.

Instead, I uncorked the vial, tipped it over the small sink basin, and poured out the liquid.

I filled the rest of the glass with plain, lukewarm water from the tap, swirled it gently until the color matched the original shade, and set the cork back into place.

It wouldn’t hurt him. It would simply do nothing. His back would ache, his head would throb with fatigue by noon, and he would begin to wonder why his body felt so weak despite all of Drake’s grand promises and protective care.

I smiled, setting the vial back on the tray, before walking out.

Lysander was sitting on the stone bench near the fountain, wrapped in a thick, dark wool coat. The pale morning sun washed over his face, making his dark hair shine. His hand rested over the rounded curve of his waist, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the quiet air.

He looked soft, comfortable, and completely safe. It made my stomach turn with a sharp, bitter wave of disgust.

I changed my direction, walking straight down the stone path toward the fountain.

Lysander felt my presence a second before I reached the bench. His eyes snapped open, his posture instantly going rigid. His hand tightened over his stomach, his dark eyes narrowing as he looked up at me.

"Julian," Lysander said in a cold voice.

"Good morning, Lysander," I purred softly, stopping five feet from where he sat. I kept my hands folded neatly behind my back. "You look tired today. The shadows under your eyes are quite dark."

"Get away from me," Lysander replied, his jaw tightening as he made to stand up.

"Oh, don’t get up on my account," I said, waving my hand dismissively as I took a small step closer. "You should save your strength. After all, carrying a child when your body is so frail must be exhausting. Though I suppose you’re used to being helpless by now."

Lysander’s fingers curled into tight fists. "I am not helpless. And Drake will throw you back down those stairs the moment he sees you standing near me."

I let out a soft laugh. Watching him stand guard against me gave me a rush of ecstasy. He was aware of what I was capable of and he was right to be terrified.

What I would do to have this little life of his. To be the person who Drake was so protective of.

"Drake won’t do a thing," I whispered, leaning in slightly, through his eyes, I could see the reflection of mine. "Drake is currently sitting in his study, tearing his hair out trying to figure out how to keep me breathing. He doesn’t look at you and see a mate, Lysander. He looks at you and sees a fragile target he failed to protect."

Lysander’s breath hitched slightly, a tiny flicker of pain crossing his face before he managed to lock his expression back into a hard mask.

"You’re lying," Lysander rasped out, though his voice lacked its usual sharp edge.

"Am I?" I murmured, giving him a sweet, pitying look. "Ask him why I am walking around this garden freely today. Ask him why he hasn’t executed me yet. He tells you he loves you, but he keeps his secrets locked behind closed doors, doesn’t he? He treats you like a delicate glass doll because he knows one small mistake, one tiny slip, and everything falls apart."

I stepped back, smoothing down the front of my shirt, watching the subtle seed of doubt take root in his dark eyes.

"Enjoy your morning tea, little bird," I added softly, turning on my heel and walking back toward the main palace doors with a light, easy stride. "I hear the doctor’s tonics haven’t been working quite as well lately."

I pushed open the glass doors and stepped back into the warm hallway, leaving him alone in the cold garden air.

Drake thought he had won when he brought Lysander back here. He thought he could build a wall high enough to keep the world out. But as long as I breathed, I would make sure every second they spent in this house was filled with misery.