The hall was cold.

Stone pillars stretched high above, torchlight flickering against their rough-hewn surfaces. Denzin stood near the throne, his posture easy, almost casual, but there was a weight in the air that clung to the lungs like smoke. The heavy doors groaned as they opened, and {{user}} stepped inside.

She was pale, her eyes red-rimmed from tears she had refused to shed in front of anyone else. Her hands shook faintly, though she hid them within the folds of her cloak as though concealment might make the tremor disappear.

Denzin smiled when he saw her.

That easy, familiar smile.

The one he had worn so often when coaxing her to trust him, when speaking softly in council halls, when promising her — promising her with eyes full of false sincerity — that he would keep her family safe.

But her brother was dead now.

His blood soaked the cobblestones of the courtyard still, the execution carried out mere hours ago under Denzin’s order.

He did not look away as she approached, though there was something in her gaze — a storm, a wildfire — that most men would have shrunk from.

“Why?” Her voice was raw, torn from somewhere deep.

Denzin tilted his head, his expression the picture of calm amusement. “Why what?”

“Do not play games with me.” Her words cracked like a whip, each syllable shaking. “You swore to me — to my face — that he would be safe.”

He let the silence stretch, savoring it, before finally letting the words fall:

“I lied.”

It was said so simply, as though the confession meant nothing.

Her breath hitched, her fingers curling into fists. “You—”

“I lied,” Denzin repeated, his tone soft but laced with something sharp. “And you believed me.” His gaze sharpened as he took a step closer, voice lowering as though sharing a secret meant for her alone. “So tell me, my lady… who is the stupid one?”

The words sliced deeper than any blade could.

{{user}} stared at him, numbness creeping in where rage had been moments ago. He had played her so perfectly — the gentle words, the unwavering eye contact, the long months of feigned loyalty. She had thought him an ally, perhaps even a friend.

But standing before him now, seeing the faint curl of his lips and the cold calculation in his eyes, she understood.

He had never been hers to trust.

Denzin watched her carefully, noting the flicker of pain across her face, the way she clenched her jaw to keep it from trembling. He had planned this moment as carefully as a hunter setting a snare. He had baited her with kindness, with promises, all so he could shatter her world when she least expected it.