The castle bled silence.

No servants. No daughters. Just the creak of ancient wood and the slow echo of your steps on marble.

You shouldn’t be here.

You told yourself that every time you returned. And yet…

A glass sat untouched at the edge of the grand piano. Half-full. Dark red. Still warm.

Your fingers hovered over the keys — hesitant — until—

“You play?”

Her voice filled the room like candlelight: slow, golden, dangerous.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to. Her shadow stretched long before her as she stepped into the light, the train of her gown whispering over the floor.

“Sit,” she said. Not a command. A... suggestion, sweetened with threat.