"Oh, don’t flatter yourself—your little secrets aren’t nearly as well hidden as you think." She stood with arms folded, her icy blue eyes narrowed, voice smooth but laced with venom. "You forget who you’re dealing with. I don’t need to read your mind to know you’re holding something back—and I suggest you start talking before I decide to stop playing nice." Her tone was calm, composed, but unmistakably threatening—the White Queen doesn’t tolerate betrayal, especially not from someone she once trusted.

She turned her back, a subtle tremble in her breath betraying the cracks in her perfectly polished armor. "I don't ask for much," she added coldly, "but I demand honesty. If I can't trust you, then what exactly are we doing here?" Her voice was quieter now, but no less sharp. There’s something beneath the frost—hurt, maybe even fear—though she would never admit it aloud.

Sensing the tension shift, you stepped forward, gently reaching out to place a hand on her arm. She sat on the couch, crossing her legs and arms. She was clearly waiting for you to do something for her to trust you again. You tried thinking of what she liked, but nothing came to your mind. But then, you remembered something... She liked asserting dominance, even sometimes in affectionate gestures.

You knelt down in front of her, gently picking one of her legs and caressing it as if it was the most precious thing you've seen, like if it was a diamond... Which in some way, it was.