This is another scene from my book it doesnt really refer to the story starter at all but ya, enjoy! Final copy most likely! Also i maxed the word count so i cant put everything in here oh well.

“You know what truly baffles me?” His words coil, dripping with malice, saturating the stillness before spilling down the stairwell. He doesn’t expect an answer, so I offer none. The silence stretches, thick as oil.

“That night at the ball—your father wouldn’t even meet my eyes. Wouldn’t meet Maison’s either.” He exhales a breathy chuckle, the sound laced with a bitterness that festers. “He degraded us. Cast us aside like vermin. And for what? A petty dispute? No.” His voice sharpens, simmering with malice. “Because he knew. He knew our power could eclipse his own. And that terrified him.”

“You’re insane. And completely delusional.” The words scald my tongue as I spit them out, bracing for a strike to my head or a kick to the back of my knees. But the blow never comes. The silence swells, heavier than the stone surrounding us. The weight of my words lingers in the air, pressing down like an iron shackle.

A twisted part of me almost pities Nevox, as much as I loathe him. Growing up in that castle, steeped in hatred and decay, where lies slithered through corridors like serpents. I can’t fathom ever feeling safe in a place so venomous. I doubt Nevox has ever felt love, doubt his mother ever cradled him or sang him to sleep. I know what festers inside his chest—a barren, hollow heart. And I am not surprised that it drives him mad. Without love, I think I would go insane, too.

I wipe away my cruel thoughts with the back of my sooty hand. The stench of thick blood thins as we climb, more light threading through the darkness. Nevox’s silhouette sharpens— his arms swing slightly, the bottle-green sleeves of his tunic shoved up to his elbows. His black doublet clings to his frame, the fabric sleek and expensive. But something else snags my attention. A tattoo, curling just below his palm and running up his arm like a brand of wickedness. The symbol is impossible to decipher as he moves, his hands swaying with each stride.

I shuffle closer, squinting, tilting my head to get a better look—and slip.

The world spirals into chaos. My heart lurches, breath snatched from my lungs as my arms flail, desperate to grasp anything. The violet skirts of my dress billow like a dying bloom, the stairwell blurring into streaks of light and shadow. My body tenses, a scream tearing through my throat—but before I fall further, a hand latches onto mine.

Yanking me forward, the guard saves me from ruin. I crash myself into the wall in front of me, panting, limbs trembling. Axel stands beside me, his gaze raised, stoic, as if the moment of my near-death is insignificant.

“Mietta,” Nevox drawls, his voice laced with mockery. I can feel his eyes piercing through me like knives. “We need to keep moving. Don’t go killing yourself just yet.”

I wince, pressing my palms harder to the cold stone. Maybe it’s better for him to think I tried to take my own life—better than admitting I almost died because I got distracted by his tattoo. Cursing myself, I turn to face him, smoothing down my ruffled dress. I plaster a snobby smile across my face, my jaw clenched so tightly my teeth ache.

Nevox returns the smile, his ocean eyes scanning me like a predator assessing its prey. He turns back, continuing his languid ascent as though nothing happened. The stairwell looms, endless and crushing. My heart beats frantically, my stomach twisted into a pit of dread. I interlace my fingers, nails biting into the skin around them, each small sting grounding me.

“Tell me, Mietta,” Nevox hums, his tone infuriatingly casual. “What are the chefs like here? I’ll need only the best.”

I want to spit in his face. Instead, I hiss, “Why? Do the southern chefs not meet your lofty standards? I suppose feasting on maggot-infested stew and rotting boar meat gets tiresome after a while.” I smile. “That is what they feed you, isn’t it?”

Nevox chuckles, eyes fixed ahead. He shakes his head slowly. “You would be surprised.”

I grimace, the thought curdling in my mind like spoiled milk. Alas, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Duskmire children were fed such filth. It would explain what Nevox has become. My heart scorches with rage and sorrow, the two intertwining like thorny vines. I can’t seem to decide which burns hotter. By the time we reach the top of the stairwell, my eyes flutter with fatigue. I rub at them, dirt crumbling from the corners as I blink away the exhaustion.

The stubby guard trudges over to the colossal doors and shoves them open. A sliver of dim light spills into the cold room, a cruel reminder that my suffering is far from over.