CHAPTER 31: CHAPTER 30. NO SURNAME

Marvessa and the other nine Shadow Knights were led forward, their steps slow and heavy with exhaustion. The bitter cold of Dreadfang Mountain clung to them like a second skin, but what truly froze their blood was the sight before them.

Roxanne Borgia was still sitting at her war house like a dark deity descended to the mortal plane. Her form is wreathed in a dangerous, almost unholy presence. Massive black horns curved from her head, their jagged edges glinting faintly in the firelight.

Her crimson eyes burned with a depth of rage and power so intense that even the most battle-hardened assassin among them had to fight the urge to fall to their knees in terror. But the omega in her arms nestled comfortably as she eyed the ten people in front of them.

Normally, intruders would never get this far. The moment they were dragged before the Grand Duke, they would have been slaughtered without hesitation. Roxanne had no love for traitors or assassins sent to harm her or, worse, to harm her omega. She wasn’t known for mercy.

But today, she didn’t immediately strike them down. Her gaze swept over the ten kneeling figures like a blade, pausing on Marvessa, the one who had dared to speak of loyalty.

The only voice she heard was about her wanting to give her loyalty to Vivianne, which is the only reason why they still drew breath, because of her words. Roxanne is calculating inside her head; if this woman is true to her words and this leader of assassins becomes a loyal servant for Vivianne, it would be a powerful addition to Vivianne’s protection.

Everyone else stayed silent; even the spirits circling Vivianne were eerily still, their silver threads hovering like suspended mist as they watched the scene unfold. Roxanne’s voice finally broke the silence, cold and piercing. "Name?"

The single word seemed to echo, carrying a weight that pressed down on everyone present. The hairs on the back of every assassin’s neck stood up, and even the seasoned warriors of the Borgia household shifted uneasily.

The woman kneeling at the front bowed even lower, pressing her forehead to the frozen ground. "Marvessa," she said, her tone unwavering despite the oppressive air. "I have no last name."

This isn’t her choice to bow deep into the ground, but rather one of the oaths of Elderglen, an oath that is included in their blood unless they find their true masters. All the assassins in Elderglen were raised as weapons, stripped of family and identity. And their very blood bound them to serve the royal lineage of Erengrad, preventing them from harming or disobeying those of royal blood.

Roxanne’s crimson eyes narrowed, her voice dropping lower, colder. "Who sent you, Marvessa? Was it Dietrich?"

The name left her lips like venom. Dietrich, the scheming cousin who had always envied Roxanne, forever coveting what she had built, what she had earned. The Emperor of Erengrad with all his insecurities.

"Yes, Your Grace," Marvessa replied instantly. There’s no hesitation, no chance of deceit.Another oath sealed in her blood ensured that a Shadow Knight could never lie to one of royal blood. The truth was ripped from them, whether they wished it or not.

A low growl rumbled from deep within Roxanne’s chest, so primal and furious that several of the other Shadow Knights flinched. The temperature around them seemed to plummet, and the shadows around Roxanne deepened as her horns glimmered faintly, pulsing with her barely restrained rage.

Marvessa kept her forehead to the ground, unflinching even as her heart pounded in her chest. This is the moment she had gambled her life on. One wrong word, one flicker of doubt, and Roxanne Borgia, the most dangerous alpha in the empire, would tear her apart before she could even scream.

But instead of anger twisting her features, the Grand Duke’s lips curved into the faintest, coldest smile. It was the kind of smile that made the temperature in the clearing plummet, a promise of violence barely restrained.

"So..." Roxanne’s voice is smooth, but beneath it lies a dangerous edge, sharp enough to cut. Each word was spoken slowly, deliberately, echoing like a death knell through the silence of the camp. "My dear cousin thinks he can send his lapdogs to kill me... and steal what is mine."

Her crimson eyes flared, glowing like molten embers as they swept over the kneeling figures before her. When her gaze shifted toward Vivianne, who’s surrounded by shimmering silver threads of protective spirits, her possessiveness became almost tangible, suffocating.

"Your Grace! I—" Marvessa’s voice cracked under the weight of Roxanne’s presence. She lifted her head sharply, desperation overtaking fear as she forced the words out before her courage failed.

"Release the nine! They are bound by oath; they cannot harm you!" she pleaded, her chest heaving. "But I... I am willing to serve as a loyal dog for your wife! For the Grand Duchess, I will give my life! I will serve her as my master until the day I die!"

Her words came out in a rush, trembling yet fierce, echoing through the tense night air. The other nine Shadow Knights gasped, their heads jerking toward her in disbelief.

For Marvessa to actually say things and abandon the Erengrad loyalty is already unthinkable for them. And then, they have to hear that she’s going to swear loyalty to someone outside their ancient oath, which is nothing short of betrayal.

Before anyone could speak, Roxanne’s fury erupted. "SILENCE!"

The single word is a roar, deep and resonant, like the fury of a storm breaking over the mountains. The air itself seemed to shudder, and the ground trembled beneath their feet. From the depths of the Dreadfang Mountain, a monstrous rumble answered her wrath; a chorus of wild things stirred awake by the sound of her voice.

Several of the Shadow Knights dropped flat to the ground, their hands clamped over their ears. Even Roxanne’s own knights stiffened, their instincts urging them to bow before her overwhelming presence.

The true alpha is in front of them, so strong, so majestic, and so overwhelming they can’t even lift their own head. Roxanne’s crimson eyes burned brighter, drilling into Marvessa as if she could pierce through her very soul.

"I never gave you permission to speak," Roxanne growled, her voice low and guttural now, vibrating in their bones. "You dare to raise your voice before me, after coming here to harm my omega?"

-

Erengrad Palace, Emperor’s Office

Dietrich stood at the high balcony of his office, his golden cloak billowing softly in the warm afternoon breeze. Below him, Liselotte de Rothschild walked gracefully through the imperial gardens, her delicate hands gliding over the blooming white lilies as her maids trailed behind her.

He just stares at her without any interest. Liselotte is undeniably beautiful, with radiant skin and beautiful brown hair pinned perfectly, her every movement elegant and refined. She is the very image of a noble omega, the perfect empress with legitimate noble blood.

Dietrich’s jaw tightened, his crimson eyes narrowing with frustration. "She’s beautiful, yes... but she’s not her. She’s not Vivianne." No matter how flawless Liselotte appeared, she could never compare to the woman who haunted his every waking thought, Vivianne de Rothschild.

He could still remember the first time he saw Vivianne, years ago, at a distant imperial banquet. She had been young then, her beauty like a delicate, untouched snowflake. Her long silver hair shimmered under the lantern light, catching the glow like spun moonlight, while her amethyst eyes seemed almost unearthly, eyes kissed by the spirits themselves.

That single glance had destroyed him. Since that night, no other omega had ever been enough. Every smile the other omega gave him felt hollow, every soft word meaningless compared to the dream of Vivianne’s voice.

And now, he has to marry Vivianne’s sister, who is so different; she doesn’t have silver hair or purple hair. And the thought of another alpha touching her, marking her, claiming her, filled him with a rage so cold it burned.

"I want her..." Dietrich muttered under his breath, his hands gripping the marble railing so tightly his knuckles turned white. "I want to run my fingers through that silver hair... to be the only one who can look into those violet eyes and know they belong to me."

Dietrich’s teeth ground together at the thought of Roxanne’s hands on Vivianne, of her marking what should have been his. His mind flickered to Marvessa—one of his most skilled and trusted Shadow Knights.

Her beauty is sharp and striking, with dirty gray hair that framed a face both cold and breathtaking. Her dark violet eyes always carried a faint glow, proof of the spirit bloodline she carried. She could command lesser spirits with ease, her whispers like a song that bent the unseen to her will.

But even Marvessa, for all her skill, was incomplete. She could not form a bond with the Spirit Kings themselves. Only someone chosen by the spirits, someone truly blessed, could achieve that. Someone like Vivianne.

Dietrich’s fists slammed against the railing, the sound echoing like a gunshot across the gardens. Liselotte and her maids startled, glancing up toward the balcony in confusion.

The moment Dietrich realized Liselotte had noticed him watching from above, he turned on his heel without hesitation. With a sharp, deliberate motion, he shut the balcony doors, the sound of the latch snapping into place echoing in the silent room.

Below, Liselotte stood amidst the manicured garden paths, confusion flickering across her beautiful face before it twisted into anger. The maids around her exchanged uneasy glances, unsure whether to speak or remain silent as their mistress seethed.

Dietrich didn’t spare her another glance. He stormed through the corridors and into his private room, his boots striking the marble floor with a steady, furious rhythm. Slamming the heavy door shut behind him, he spun toward his waiting aide, his dark eyes burning with frustration.

"Any news from Marvessa?" he demanded, his tone sharp and laced with barely controlled rage.

The aide bowed quickly, head lowered. "No, Your Highness. There has been no word."

Dietrich’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "Find out what happened!" he roared. "And if she’s failed me, send more assassins. I don’t care how many it takes—kill the Grand Duke! I want her head on a spike!"

The aide flinched at his fury, hesitating as he tried to find the right words. "But, Your Highness—"

"I don’t need your excuses!" Dietrich snarled, cutting him off with a glare so sharp it made the man’s knees tremble. "Just make it done."