Cecilia tilted her head, her fingers lacing together as she stepped closer. "Tell me, Kiaran," she said softly, her voice deceptively calm, "when are you going to tell Mablevi she's going to destroy our world?"
The words hung in the air like a thundercloud, heavy and suffocating. For a moment, Kiaran didn't move. His ruby-red eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as if he were biting back a snarl.
"You don't know what you're talking about," he said finally, his voice low and strained.
Cecilia didn't back down. If anything, her green eyes burned brighter, her lips curling into a bitter smile. "Oh, don't I?" she said, her tone mocking. "You think you're protecting her by coddling her? By pretending she's not what she is?"
"She's a child," Kiaran snapped, his voice rising for the first time.
"She's a Nwatti," Cecilia shot back, her voice sharp as a blade. "And you know what that means, Kiaran. You've seen what they're capable of. You've seen the storms, the destruction, the death—"
"Stop," he growled, taking a step forward.
Cecilia didn't flinch. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You're lying to yourself. And when she loses control—because she will—it won't just be this kingdom that suffers. It'll be all of us."
The words hit Kiaran like a blow, his fists clenching at his sides. For a moment, he looked as though he might strike her, but he held himself back. Barely.
"You don't understand," he said through gritted teeth.
"No," Cecilia said, her voice cold as frost. "You don't understand. You're not raising a child, Kiaran. You're raising a storm. And when it breaks, it'll destroy everything in its path—including you."
The silence that followed was deafening. Kiaran's chest rose and fell with each labored breath, his eyes burning with a fury that threatened to consume him.
Before he could respond, a soft voice interrupted the argument.
"Pardon me."
The voice was light and delicate, like the rustle of leaves in the wind. Both Kiaran and Cecilia turned toward the stable door, where Camille stood, her silhouette framed by the warm glow of the setting sun. Her strawberry-blonde hair fell in waves, the upper half tied into a loose bun that gave her an air of effortless elegance. Her pale skin glowed in the light, her green eyes calm but sharp.
Camille stepped forward, her movements graceful and deliberate, and curtsied deeply before Mablevi. "Greetings, Princess Mablevi," she said, her voice soft and melodic. "My apologies for the intrusion... Is everything all right?"
Her concern seemed genuine, but her gaze flickered briefly to Kiaran and Cecilia, sharp and searching. The tension in the air was palpable, and even Camille's calming presence couldn't dispel it entirely.
Kiaran exhaled heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Camille," he said finally, his tone weary, "would you take Mablevi and Chiku out for a walk? I need to have a word with Cecilia."
Camille's smile didn't falter, but her eyes lingered on Kiaran for a moment. "Of course, Sir Kiaran," she said smoothly. She turned to Mablevi, her expression softening. "Come, Princess. Let's take Chiku out to stretch her legs. The garden paths are beautiful this time of day."
Mablevi hesitated. She glanced at Kiaran, sensing the storm brewing just beneath his surface. "But—"
"It's all right," Kiaran said, his voice gentler now as he looked at her. "Go with Camille. Have fun."
Reluctantly, Mablevi nodded, her small hands gripping Chiku's reins tightly as Camille led the horse out of the stable. Mablevi turned back once, her wide eyes full of questions, but Camille placed a hand on her shoulder, gently guiding her away.
As their footsteps faded into the distance, the tension in the stable thickened like a storm cloud ready to break.
Cecilia waited until the sound of Chiku's hooves disappeared completely before she spoke again. "So that's it, then? You keep playing house while the rest of us clean up your mess?"
Kiaran's fists clenched at his sides, his shoulders drawing back as he turned to face her. There was no gentleness in his expression now, no trace of the man who had just coaxed Mablevi to leave. "She's not a mess," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "She's my responsibility."
"She's a liability!" Cecilia shot back, her voice rising. "And if you can't see that, then maybe I should make the decision for you."
Kiaran froze, his ruby-red eyes narrowing to slits. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying," Cecilia said, her voice trembling with both anger and fear, "that maybe I should scream. Maybe I should call the guards and let them deal with her before it's too late."
For a moment, the world seemed to stop. The horses stilled, the air grew heavy, and the only sound was the faint creak of wood beneath Cecilia's shifting weight. Kiaran's eyes burned into hers, his chest rising and falling as his breath came quicker, harsher.
"Go ahead," he said quietly, his voice low and dangerous. In an instant, he closed the distance between them, his hand darting out to cup her throat. His grip wasn't tight, but it was firm enough to make her freeze. "Scream," he growled, his tone like the snarl of a predator. "I dare you."
Cecilia's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. She didn't move, didn't speak. The anger in her eyes was still there, but it was tempered now by something else. Fear.
"You think this is a game?" Kiaran continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You think you can threaten her—threaten me—and walk away?"
For a moment, the world stood still. Then, slowly, Kiaran released her, stepping back and letting his hand fall to his side. His fingers twitched, trembling faintly, as though the weight of what he'd done was only now sinking in.
Cecilia stumbled back, her hand flying to her throat as though to shield it from him. Her breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, her green eyes wide with disbelief and something darker—fear.
Pan to Mablevi:
Outside, Mablevi gripped Chiku's reins so tightly her hands ached. Her blue eyes were wide, fixed on the stable doors.
The wind tugged at her braids, sharp and cool, but she didn't notice. Her chest rose and fell quickly, shallow breaths pulling in air that suddenly felt harder to reach.
"Princess?" Camille's voice was soft, but it barely registered.
Mablevi blinked, her fingers loosening slightly, but she couldn't shake the weight pressing down on her. Her eyes glimmered—just for a moment—too bright, too blue, like lightning trapped in a storm cloud.
"Don't worry," Camille said, her tone steady. "It wasn't you."
But the wind surged suddenly, swirling around them, and Camille's calm words felt like a lie as the light in Mablevi's eyes flickered again, brighter this time.
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