Newton held the strand of hair between his fingers. The thin lock glimmered under the pale morning light that slipped through the narrow window of his chamber.
It was red. A deep, burning red.
He pulled the strand out and ace it closer to his eyes, studying it carefully. His brows tightened. He dropped his hand slowly.
Newton held it up again.The color did not change.
His lips curled slightly with disgust. "I have seen other bastards," he muttered quietly to himself. "They don't have red hair."
His eyes narrowed at the reflection staring back from the mirror. "Why is mine different?"
The question hung in the quiet room.
Newton stared harder at his own reflection, as though the boy in the mirror might suddenly answer him.
But the boy only stared back. His mind drifted. A memory surfaced. His father's voice.
Calm, and firm.
One day you will realize I shave your hair because I love you so much.
Newton blinked. He leaned back slightly from the mirror.
The words replayed again in his head.
He slowly nodded to himself. "This is why my father doesn't allow my hair to grow."
His fingers brushed across the short strands on his head. "I have a weird colour of hair."
He stepped away from the mirror and moved toward the wooden table beside his bed.
A small container rested there. Newton picked it up.
The dye that his father had given it to him long ago.
"Use this," the Warden had said once. "Never let your hair grow long."
At the time Newton had not questioned it. Now he understood. Or at least he believed he did.
He carried the container toward the basin.
The water inside reflected the faint morning light. Newton opened the dye slowly.
A dark liquid sat inside.
He poured it carefully into the basin. The water darkened as the dye spread through it like a shadow.
Newton leaned forward. He dipped his head into the water. His fingers moved through his hair, rubbing the liquid into every strand.
The cold water trickled down his neck and across his shoulders. He lifted his head again.
Droplets slid down his face and fell onto the stone floor.
Newton wiped the water from his eyes and stepped back toward the mirror. He stared at his reflection again.
The red strand was gone.
Every tiny hair on his head had turned dark. Black. Just like the others.
Newton studied it carefully. Then he nodded once. "Now it is black."
But as he leaned closer, something still bothered him. The color was darker. But something in the shade still looked strange.
"Yet it looks like one burned by fire," he murmured quietly. He reached for a cloth lying on the table.
Newton wrapped it around his head, tying it firmly. The cloth covered his hair completely.
He stepped away from the mirror. His expression had changed again. The quiet uncertainty from earlier was gone.
Something harder had returned to his eyes. Newton walked toward the door and pulled it open.
The hallway outside was already alive with movement. Guards passed through the corridor, their armor clinking softly.
Servants hurried past carrying trays and scrolls.
Newton stepped forward. A guard standing near the stairway immediately straightened.
Newton looked directly at him. "Summon the council."
The guard bowed his head. "Yes, my lord."
Newton's voice remained calm. "Sigmoid will be judged in the afternoon."
The guard bowed once more before turning quickly and disappearing down the corridor.
Newton stood there a moment longer. His eyes followed the guard until he vanished around the corner.
Then Newton turned and walked down the hall.
Meanwhile, far to the south. At King City. The palace stood tall above the city walls, its white towers catching the bright sunlight of midday.
Inside the highest tower of the castle, two men stood on the open balcony of the last floor.
The wind moved gently through the open space. Below them the palace courtyard buzzed with activity.
Servants hurried back and forth. Banners were being hung. Musicians tested their instruments.
Preparations for the crown prince's engagement ceremony continued without pause.
Robert stood near the stone railing, his hands resting on the cold surface.
Beside him stood Edmond. Robert stared down at the courtyard for a long moment before speaking. "I am getting older."
His voice was quiet.
Edmond chuckled. "You are barely forty years old."
He leaned against the railing. "You are still a young man."
Robert turned toward him. The two men looked at each other for a moment.
Then they both burst into laughter. The sound echoed across the balcony.
Robert wiped the corner of his eye slightly. "Maybe it is the weight of the crown on my head." His gaze drifted back toward the busy courtyard below. "Or maybe I miss your sister Maria too much."
The laughter died quickly.
Silence stretched between them.
The wind brushed softly against the stone walls. Edmond's expression slowly hardened. "Your Grace," he said carefully, "it has been seventeen years since she betrayed the oath you both swore."
Robert's fingers tightened slightly against the railing. "And it has been fifteen years since she died."
Edmond paused.
His throat tightened. He quickly turned his head away and wiped the corner of his eye. The subject of Maria always did this to him.
Robert noticed the movement.
Edmond took a slow breath before speaking again. "You should forget about her." His voice had grown firmer now.
"Move on."
He gestured toward the courtyard. "Concentrate on Freya and the family she has given you."
Robert exhaled slowly. A forced chuckle escaped his lips. "There is no one who can grab my heart the way Maria did." His eyes softened slightly. "Not the children, not the honour, not the throne. Nothing can give the happiness Maria gave until Drexo stole her away from me."
"I know she is not an oath breaker." His gaze turned distant. "He must have beguiled her."
Edmond said nothing at first. He exhaled slowly. His eyes drifted toward the courtyard.
He hesitated.
Robert noticed immediately. "Say it."
Edmond turned his head.
Robert watched him carefully. "Speak whatever that is in your mind."
Edmond hesitated again. The wind brushed across the balcony. Then he finally spoke. "You claim to love her so much." His voice remained steady. "Yet you gave the orders that struck a sword into her heart."
Robert's head turned sharply. He shook it immediately. "I would never do that." His voice was firm. "I didn't give such orders."
He looked back toward the city beyond the palace walls. "But I understand why the Kendwools had to kill her."
His tone softened. "If they must crystalize the place of their daughter beside me…" His fingers tightened against the railing. "…then they must eliminate the only woman I love."
Silence returned.
The wind continued moving gently across the balcony. Then Robert suddenly turned and placed his hands on Edmond's shoulders.
His grip was firm. "I see Maria in Sonia."
Edmond looked up. Robert's eyes carried a strange brightness. "They carry the same spirit." His voice lifted slightly. "Soon our house will be one."
He smiled. "And your daughter will rule beside my son as his queen."
Edmond stared at him for a moment. Then a slow smile appeared on his face.
The tension broke. They both laughed. Robert pulled him closer and embraced him.
The two men held each other briefly before stepping back. "You helped me get the throne," Robert said. His voice carried warmth now. "Even when your sister was on the other side."
Edmond shook his head with a faint smile. "I owe the throne to you." Edmond lifted a hand dismissively.
"It wasn't me that killed Drexo." He leaned back against the railing again. "It was the Kenwools."
He paused briefly. "And Theon Kendrick."
Robert nodded slowly. "You should be thanking them, not me."
Robert's eyes narrowed slightly as he looked toward the horizon. "They only finished what you and I started."
His voice lowered. "And yes…" A faint smile crossed his face. "They have their rewards already."
Robert turned back to Edmond. The smile grew wider. "It is time for you to have yours."