CHAPTER 316: BLOODSHED OF COURT-I

Still in a daze, Arabella lay on the bed, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. Her eyes were heavy, but sleep wouldn’t come, her heart was too burdened, her thoughts too loud. Worries crowded her mind, tripping over one another, each demanding her attention. But it was Atlas’s words, his story, that lingered the loudest.

Something was amiss.

Utterly, unshakably amiss.

But what?

She couldn’t pinpoint the flaw in Atlas’s tale. It hadn’t sounded like a lie. His voice had been too soft, too pained, too real. And yet, when she held his version beside the others, something didn’t sit right.

To Morpheus, Circe was a heartless fool, someone who trusted too easily, who loved humans so blindly that she sacrificed her own people, only to be deceived.

To Lastor, she was cold and unyielding, yet still ruled by her heart. A woman who chose love over reason and paid for it with her life.

To Atlas... she was someone else entirely. Gentle. Loving. A woman of warmth who had cherished his brother Rafael deeply, so deeply, in fact, that she betrayed the very man she had once devoted herself to. The man she had supported for years, sealed away in a glass coffin by her own hand.

Three stories. Three women. All named Circe.

And yet, only one constant thread wove through them all: She was someone who would cross any boundary, abandon her people, spill blood, break every oath, if it was for the sake of the one she loved.

Arabella’s chest tightened.

Circe was starting to feel less like a person and more like a mirror, reflecting the fears Arabella didn’t dare name. Because if love could turn loyalty into treason... then what did that mean for her?

But that wasn’t the only reason it bothered her.

Arabella couldn’t explain it fully, she didn’t even know much about Circe. Not truly. But there were fragments, echoes from others. Lastor had once said that Circe had loved the King too much, so much that she swore an oath and tricked her own people into a curse.

But... which King? Atlas? or the one after him, Rafael?

It couldn’t be Atlas. No. He was the one sealed in the glass coffin, locked in sleep for centuries. He had been the one betrayed. Not the betrayer. Or was he?

Did that mean the man Circe had loved was always Rafael?

But what if the truth had been twisted?

What if it wasn’t Rafael at all?

What if Circe had always loved Atlas, but he had fallen ill, or perhaps something darker had taken root in him. What if sealing him away was the only way to save him? And what if, in doing so, she pretended, lied, to Rafael, pretending her heart belonged to him instead, just to protect Atlas without raising suspicion?

That could be it.

It felt like it.

Something about that version made more sense. Not in logic, but in instinct. As a woman, Arabella couldn’t explain it fully, but the original tale rang hollow. Only when she flipped it, turned it on its head, did it start to feel right.

Suddenly restless, she sat up and slipped from the bed. Rushing to the table, she lit the nearest candle, its flame flickering wildly like her thoughts. Grabbing parchment, she bent over to write, her heart pounding.

Circe always prioritizes the man she loves. Yes. She would do anything for Atlas. What if she chose to protect him, to heal him, even through that glass coffin, while pretending to stand with Rafael?

But then, why lie about poisoning Atlas? Why claim loyalty to Rafael?

Think, Bella. Think.

Her quill hovered.

And then it hit her, sudden and sharp.

If the man she loved was locked away for centuries, then Circe had already lost everything. She no longer had a reason to care for the Kingdom. She no longer had a reason to stand by her people. Her loyalty had never been to the throne or the sorcerers. Her heart had always belonged to Atlas.

And once he was gone... what was left?

Nothing. Nothing.

So if Atlas was to sleep for so long, she must have no more reason to hold back. She could have pretended to be on Rafael’s side, let him think that she would always support him and once Atlas was put into that glass coffin, she turned against Rafael...

"This is of no use," Arabella’s face that had turned yellow from the glow of the candle beside her. She didn’t think no more as she knew that there was only one person who could serve her the answer.

Rushing to hold the candle, she went out of Cassius’s chamber, her feet rushing toward the place she knew where that person would be and with haste, she didn’t knock, bursting the door open with a loud bang.

Lastor who was asleep was at once stirred from the bed, his hands quickly moving toward the book beside him in protection only to stop when he recognize the bright green eyes and deep red hair from Arabella.

"Princess-"

"You need to tell me the truth now Lastor," Arabella frowned, her eyes narrowing at Lastor who seemed startled by her words. She didn’t know. Yes. She trusted Lastor but that doesn’t mean he hadn’t lied to her. After all, her loyalty was to someone who looks like her, not her own self. "Tell me who," she said, "Who was it that Circe had loved?"

With lips parted, Lastor could only stare at her in between the darkness with only the small light from the candlestick she held as the source of light for them.

Lastor looked down, "What do you mean?"

Yes. when he lied, Lastor couldn’t look to someone’s eyes out of guilt.

"Was it Atlas or Rafael?"

She didn’t held back even when she could see Lastor’s face had turned blue and pale.

"What are you saying, Princess? How would you know those two names... Why do you know the witch’s name?" Lastor seemed too stunned, hoping to understand how much she had heard by asking this but Arabella was in no mood for answering his question.

It was his time to answer.