"What if I say no?" Arya asked, hesitating a little.
Trishan looked up sharply, surprise flashing across his face. No one ever questioned Rankriti. Her offers weren't invitations—they were commands cloaked in velvet. Rarely did she make such proposals, and when she did, people accepted without a second thought. To deny her was to tempt fire.
But Arya had said it.
Rankriti raised a single eyebrow. A rare gesture. Even she seemed caught off guard.
"How dare you question the offer," Trishan snapped.
Arya took a cautious step back, sensing the tension rising. "I mean... it is an offer, isn't it? That means I have the right to accept or reject it."
Trishan stood up, fury burning in his eyes, but Rankriti raised her hand. Calm, poised, unnervingly silent.
"Easy, Trishan. The boy is right," she said. Her voice was soft, but it carried enough weight to silence the air itself. "It is an offer. I'm not forcing him. He has a choice."
Arya exhaled, not sure whether to feel relieved or more afraid.
"I didn't mean any disrespect... your grace," he said, trying to be polite. "But I need time to think. I have people depending on me back in my city. I can't just leave them."
"Of course," Rankriti replied, her tone even. "Your loved ones will arrive at this castle within two days. Talk to them. Decide after that. You have three days."
She turned, ready to leave for her chambers, but Arya couldn't stop himself.
"You didn't answer my question, your grace... what if I say no?"
Trishan was done. His patience cracked. He took a step toward Arya, ready to teach him a lesson, but Rankriti had already moved. Arya barely saw her shift before she was standing right in front of him. The distance closed in an instant. A shadow blanketed him.
Arya froze. Rankriti's towering presence swallowed him. Her eyes stared straight into his. They weren't angry. They weren't calm either. They just were. Unmoving. Cold. Ancient.
Arya wanted to step back, but his body refused. Trishan halted too, recognizing that the moment was no longer his.
"You want to say no?" Rankriti asked, her voice quiet now, too quiet.
"I... I don't know, your grace," Arya stammered. "I just want to understand."
She didn't blink.
Arya's throat tightened. Her stillness felt more dangerous than any weapon. The tension wrapped around his chest like a chain.
Then, without warning, she reached out and lifted him by the throat.
His feet left the ground.
Arya gasped, struggling for air. Her grip was like iron. Heat radiated from her palm—scalding. His fingers clawed at her wrist, but it was like trying to move stone. He kicked, desperate to breathe.
Rankriti pulled him closer until their faces were almost touching.
"Do not ever question me again," she said, her tone sharper now, cutting through his chest. "Accept my offer—and you will live to see another day. You and your loved ones."
Arya's vision blurred. The heat from her hand singed his skin. He felt himself slipping, fading.
And then she dropped him.
He crumpled to the ground, coughing violently, clawing at his throat. His shoulders, his palms, even his neck stung with small burns. His body ached. His pride felt crushed.
Rankriti didn't even glance at him as she turned away.
"I don't want to touch rats like you," she muttered. "Trishan. Have him ready in two days. Ask him to say goodbye to his friends."
"Yes, your grace," Trishan replied quickly, regaining control.
Two guards moved to pick Arya up. He was still coughing, barely able to stand, his legs trembling beneath him. He clutched his throat, his breath ragged. The guards didn't wait for him to walk—they carried him out of the terrace and down the long corridor.
As they passed through the marble halls, Arya caught a glimpse of the sky through a tall window. He remembered standing in the same spot just days ago, watching the city from the terrace. Back then, he thought he had seen power. Now, he realized he had only glimpsed a shadow of it.
Rankriti's presence wasn't just strength. It was domination. Her grip had left a mark not just on his skin—but on his mind.
The guards opened the doors to his chamber and laid him on the bed. Arya didn't move. He lay there, throat scorched, body trembling, fear crawling through his veins.
He had asked for the truth. Now he had it.
He closed his eyes and thought of the twins.