Chapter 87 Lone Fighter
Adrian returned to his office with Marcus following close behind. The moment the door closed, cutting them off from any listening ears, Marcus spoke.
"Why did you suddenly treat her like that? What happened in there?" Marcus's voice carried both confusion and concern. "I've never seen you raise a hand to anyone weaker, let alone her."
Adrian moved to his desk and sat heavily in his chair, his head dropping into his hands. "I have no idea." His voice carried genuine confusion and something that might have been distress. "I looked at her standing there and felt nothing but rage. Pure, consuming rage that made me want to hurt her. It wasn't rational or explainable. It just was."
"You couldn't identify any reason for it?" Marcus pressed, stepping closer. "The same man who was ready to wait five years for a law to change, who chained himself rather than risk hurting her during transformation, suddenly attacked her without any meaningful provocation or threat?"
Adrian couldn't explain it at all. He'd thought that seeing Lila directly might rekindle buried feelings or maybe desire or at least neutral recognition. But all he'd felt was burning anger that grew stronger the longer he looked at her, made even worse by the fact that she didn't remember anything. Not him, not their bond, not their secret plans to expose the conspiracy. Nothing. She'd looked at him like a stranger she vaguely knew was connected to her dead sister. The emptiness in her eyes where recognition should have been had enraged him beyond reason.
Just then, the office door opened and a small figure came running in with the boundless energy only small children possess.
"Dad!" Theo called out, his voice bright with pure childish joy. He came running across the room to hug Adrian, his little legs pumping fast. He was guided loosely by his maid Easter, who stood respectfully near the door. She'd been assigned to replace Margot after the exile, though only temporarily until a permanent caretaker could be properly chosen and vetted.
Theo was three years old now, still somewhat unsteady in his steps but healing from early illness and growing stronger with each passing day. Adrian's harsh expression softened immediately and dramatically. He hugged his son tight and lifted him easily into his arms, holding the small warm body against his chest.
"How's my boy today?" Adrian's voice was gentle and warm, completely different from mere moments ago when he'd been screaming and throwing furniture.
"I played with the horses!" Theo's excitement was utterly infectious, his face glowing. "Easter let me feed them apples and carrots! The big brown one ate from my hand!"
Marcus watched the complete transformation and felt deeply unsettled. How could the same man who'd just terrorized Lila with violence be so incredibly gentle and loving with his son? What had the forced rejection ritual actually done to Adrian's emotions and mental state? Had it fractured something fundamental inside him?
\---
Back in Lila's chambers, the night became an endless fog of mist and terrible recurring dreams. She couldn't sleep properly no matter how exhausted her body felt. The moment she closed her eyes and started drifting toward unconsciousness, nightmares crashed over her in waves.
She saw Celeste's face laughing at her cruelly, the sound echoing. Then half a figure of a tall man in fine expensive clothes, but she couldn't see his head or face. The image cut off sharply at the neck as if deliberately obscured by some force. The headless figure reached for her and she tried to run but couldn't move.
Sweat soaked her completely despite the winter cold seeping steadily through the windows and making the room frigid. She jerked awake repeatedly, breathing heavily, her heart pounding so hard it hurt. Each time she woke, reality felt almost as confusing and frightening as the nightmares.
After Freya had left, Maya and Sydney had helped her carefully to her feet and bandaged her wounds in heavy silence. But they'd said almost nothing to her, just exchanged worried meaningful glances when they thought she wasn't looking. They'd looked at her as though she was someone who'd gone completely insane and might do something unpredictable. As though speaking the wrong words might trigger something dangerous or make everything worse somehow.
"Rest well for now," Sydney had finally said in a flat neutral tone. "Tomorrow morning you will be properly assigned duties and introduced to the palace servants. You'll learn your work schedule and responsibilities then."
That was all Sydney offered before walking out without waiting for any response.
Lila had nodded in numb acceptance. It didn't surprise her much really. After escaping the constant cruelty of Moonstone Province, what difference had she reasonably expected in her sister's home? Even now, even in the aftermath of her sister's death, nothing fundamental had changed. She was still treated exactly the same way she'd always been treated. Ignored, dismissed, given the bare minimum.
Her parents hadn't even sent word requesting she return to the province for mourning or family gathering. She'd heard absolutely nothing from them since arriving here. They'd simply abandoned her as if she'd never existed.
Lying awake in the dark room lit only by a single dim candle that cast dancing shadows on the walls, with everything a confusing wave of fog and mist in her fractured memory, she finally gave up on sleep entirely. She stood up, wrapping her arms around herself against the cold.
She couldn't bear lying there anymore with nightmares waiting eagerly every time she closed her eyes.
She walked out quietly into the corridor, her bare feet silent on cold stone.
The palace was peaceful and eerily quiet at this late hour. Most servants were asleep. Guards patrolled distant sections. The serenity made the massive structure feel hauntingly beautiful in the moonlight. Silver beams streamed through tall arched windows, casting intricate patterns on floors and walls.
She spotted the cashmere coat hanging where she'd left it. The beautiful warm one from earlier, the one she remembered brown eyes wrapping carefully around her shivering body. She pulled it on gratefully and stepped out into the cold night air, needing to clear her head.
From somewhere in the distance, Lila heard the distinct sounds of metal striking metal. Swords clashing rhythmically, like someone training alone.
She didn't know the exact distance or direction clearly, but with her strangely heightened hearing she picked up the sound easily and moved with quiet precision toward it, following the noise through empty courtyards.
She finally stopped when she spotted a lone figure in a practice yard, fighting with a sword against invisible opponents, practicing attack forms and defensive strikes with intense focused concentration.
It was extremely late at night and this person was training hard despite the hour and bitter cold that made breath visible.
She stood watching without quite meaning to, transfixed by the movement. He was shirtless despite the freezing temperature, his hair damp with sweat from consistent vigorous movement and body heat generated by intense exertion.
Well-defined muscles moved with practiced efficiency under skin. His eyes were narrowed with fierce concentration toward an unseen enemy only he could visualize.
He seemed to be a soldier of some kind, but what sort of dedicated soldier trained completely alone at this impossible hour instead of sleeping like normal people?
As soon as Lila shifted her weight and moved one small step closer to see better, a dagger flew directly toward her face with deadly accurate speed.