Jericho’s room was enveloped in an eerie stillness, the only sound being the muffled pacing was his breathing. Jericho, a man of imposing stature, his face etched with lines of anxiety and anticipation, couldn’t contain his restlessness. He traversed the room back and forth, his steps growing more frantic with each pass.
A soft knock on the door shattered the silence, causing Jericho to startle. He approached cautiously, his voice trembling with a mix of apprehension and hope.
“Who is it?” he whispered, his words barely audible.
The response came from the other side, a voice he recognized as Mario’s. “It’s me, Jericho.”
Relief washed over Jericho’s features as he swung the door open. Mario, a trusted ally, stood before him, his countenance grave and filled with a sense of urgency. Behind Mario, the Minister of Finance entered the room, his presence exuding authority and respect. The door closed quietly behind them, sealing the room from prying eyes.
The Minister of Finance bowed respectfully, paying homage to Jericho’s status. Jericho offered a curt nod in acknowledgment, his gaze fixed firmly on Mario.
“How far have you gotten in touch with the assassin?” Jericho’s voice crackled with a mix of eagerness and trepidation. His heart thumped wildly in his chest as he awaited Mario’s response, hoping against hope for a positive outcome.
But as Mario’s words reached his ears, Jericho’s face fell, and his hopes dashed against the rocks of disappointment. “My lord, I regret to inform you that I can’t find the man. His friends claim he hasn’t returned home.”
Jericho clenched his fists tightly, his frustration threatening to consume him.
The Minister of Finance, sensing the tension in the room, cautiously interjected. “My lord, there is no need to panic just yet. Perhaps the man has gone into hiding, aware that the king would spare no effort in finding him.”
Jericho’s voice rose sharply, cutting through the air like a blade. “No! There is something deeply unsettling about this. Can you believe that the king denied us the opportunity to pursue this assassin? He knows full well that I am relentless in my pursuit of justice. I intended to eliminate him swiftly, without a trace, and yet the king intervened, halting my plans. Something doesn’t add up.”
Jericho concluded, his voice filled with certainty, “I am certain that Alpha Malik is well aware that the assassin is within proximity, yet he permitted the man to escape freely, denying us the chance to pursue him. This is not the characteristic heartlessness I have come to expect from Malik.”
His words lingered in the room, thick with suspicion and doubt. The Minister of Finance, feeling the weight of the prevailing unease, cautiously concurred, “I must confess, my lord, that these circumstances are highly unusual. It is common knowledge that your abilities are unmatched, and even the king acknowledges your capacity to capture the assassin who still lurks within the forest. So, why would the king abruptly restrain you from chasing down the very man who almost claimed your life? Something truly seems awry.”
A mix of frustration and concern etched itself into Jericho’s features. “Still, my lord, I suggest we shift our focus to the matter at hand. The king has initiated an audit of the accounting department, and since yesterday, the Minister of Accounting has gone missing. Our downfall, my lord, is directly linked to yours.”
Jericho’s patience snapped like a taut wire, his frustration reaching its boiling point. The words of the Minister of Finance, spoken with an air of suggestion, rang in his ears like veiled threats. Unable to tolerate such insinuations, Jericho’s anger surged within him.
In one swift motion, he lunged forward, his fingers closing tightly around the Minister of Finance’s collar. His voice, measured and tinged with a dangerous edge, sliced through the air like a blade.
“Are you threatening me?” Jericho’s tone brooked no compromise, his eyes burning with intensity as he locked his gaze with the minister’s.
Caught off guard by Jericho’s sudden aggression, the Minister of Finance fumbled for words, his voice trembling with fear. “N-No, my lord! I-I would never dare to threaten you. I was only trying to emphasize the importance and connection of our current situation.”
Jericho’s face turned rigid, his narrowed eyes reflecting a mix of doubt and anger. The room descended into an uncomfortable silence, the heavy tension hanging in the air.
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*
King Malik returned to his chamber, his body weary and his mind burdened by the events that had unfolded in the dungeon. The stench of blood and sweat clung to him as he discarded his clothes, desperate to cleanse himself of the horrors he had witnessed. With determined steps, he entered the bathroom, seeking respite in the cleansing waters that cascaded over his body.
As the steam enveloped him, thoughts of Aurora flooded his mind, her life hanging by a thread because of his position and their unrequited love. Guilt gnawed at his conscience, intertwining with the weight of his responsibilities as a ruler and the rebellion led by his brother. His troubled thoughts consumed him, even as he attempted to wash away the physical remnants of his ordeal.
Emerging from the bathroom, King Malik entered his bedroom, his body tense and his gaze distant. To his surprise, he found Xena standing there, an unexpected presence in his private sanctuary. Coldly, he asked, “What are you doing in my room, Xena?”
Xena’s expression softened with a mixture of sympathy and concern. She had heard of the attempted assassination, the peril that had befallen the king, and she couldn’t bear to see him burdened by worry. “I heard what happened, my king. A man tried to take your life,” she said softly, her voice laced with genuine care.
The king’s eyes bore into hers, his tone sharp and cutting. “You shouldn’t concern yourself with my affairs, Xena. I am capable of handling my troubles.”
Undeterred, Xena took a step closer, her voice filled with sincerity. “My king, let me take away your worries tonight. Allow me to ease your burden.”
His face hardened, and he recoiled from her advance. “Do not lay a hand on me,” he retorted, his voice laced with venom. The rejection stung, causing Xena to lose her balance, stumbling backward.
Fear flickered in her eyes as she tried to make sense of the king’s sudden coldness. “My king, have I done something wrong? Why are you treating me this way?” she asked, her voice quivering with genuine confusion and hurt.
The king’s voice grew stern, his gaze piercing through her. “Leave. I wish to be left alone,” he commanded, his words laced with a mixture of anger and pain.
Xena turned swiftly, her heart heavy with disappointment and sadness. She made her way toward the exit, wanting to escape the king’s frigid presence. Just as she reached the door, his voice echoed through the room, stopping her in her tracks.
“Why did you lie about being pregnant?” his voice rang out, the accusation hanging in the air.
Xena felt a surge of shock coursing through her body, causing her breath to catch in her throat. She turned slowly to face the king, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and regret. At that moment, she questioned if the king would ever see her in the same light as before.
Her fist clenched tightly as she wondered how the king had discovered her secret. Deep inside, she pondered on what she should say to him, desperately searching for the right words to mend the broken trust between them.