CHAPTER 458: A LOYALTY LIKE NONE OTHERS-II

Morpheus drew his hand slowly to his pristine face, fingers brushing the damp smear that clung to his skin. His palm came away glistening faintly in the torchlight, Isaac’s spit mingled with his pride. For a long, brittle moment, he simply stared at it, his green eyes flickering like a serpent’s before the strike. Then, his expression twitched, every muscle in his jaw tightening until his composure shattered, his patience snapping like a kite string in a storm.

A vein throbbed near his temple. He wiped the saliva away with a single, violent sweep of his hand. The air seemed to still before his voice cut through, sharp as glass.

"There is no more use for you," he hissed, his tone dangerously quiet, the words heavy enough to make the nearest guards flinch. "If a guard dog cannot watch over the master, what good is there from you? None at all."

He stepped closer, the echo of his boots hollow against the marble. "Perhaps it’s time to remove you for good—and replace you with someone who might actually be capable of protecting her."

Isaac’s lip bled anew as he glared up at him, breathing hard through the sting, yet refusing to look away. But before Morpheus could give the command, a voice—soft, melodic, but laced with iron, cut through the tension.

"And why are you bullying Isaac, Morpheus?"

Every head turned.

There, at the far end of the hallway, Arabella stood beneath the fractured glow of the moonlight, framed like a vision born of both dream and defiance. The silver beams filtering through the stained glass fell across her nightgown, the thin fabric whispering against her skin, glinting faintly where the lace caught the light. A crimson shawl rested loosely around her shoulders, a defiant slash of color against the pale hush of her gown.

She didn’t come close, not quite. She kept a measured distance, a queen holding her ground against a dangerous court. Her eyes, wide and green as cut emeralds, shimmered in the cold moonlight, the faint gleam of warning glinting within them.

"I leave for a while," she said evenly, voice calm but commanding, "and here you are—already hurting Isaac." Her gaze slid from the bruised guard to Morpheus, narrowing. "When it comes to protecting me, isn’t Isaac doing his job better than..." she tilted her head slightly, letting the silence cut through like a blade, "you?"

Morpheus turned toward her. Instantly, the storm in his expression dissolved, replaced by a smile that stretched from one corner of his lips to the other. It was too wide, too smooth—an illusion of warmth stitched hastily over the violence still simmering beneath.

"Ah, there you are," he breathed, his tone drenched in false sweetness. "I was searching for you everywhere, Arabella. Where did you go—"

"Don’t come closer," she interrupted sharply, and the command in her voice halted him mid-step.

His eyes flickered, narrowing, as she gestured subtly toward his sleeve. "You smell like blood," she said simply.

Morpheus looked down. A dark stain marred the edge of his immaculate clothing—a careless smear, fresh and wet. Likely the splatter from when his men struck Isaac.

"You know I don’t like blood," Arabella said softly, smiling now—sweetly, almost playfully, but the curve of her lips was laced with venom. "Besides, I don’t think we’re on such good terms that you can walk so comfortably toward me."

Her words landed like tiny knives, each one deliberate.

Startled by the chill in her tone, Morpheus’s smile faltered. He pressed his lips together, his brows knitting faintly. "I was simply checking whether you are hiding something by trying to put distance between us."

"Testing me again, are you?" she countered, her laughter airy but sharp-edged. "Was your behavior this afternoon another test too? You seem quite devoted to the art of distrust. While you may find comfort in your little experiments, I must admit..." she paused, her lashes lowering as she smiled faintly, "you are starting to lose my trust. How tragic, isn’t it? Someone who wounds my heart just to see if I still bleed for him."

Her voice dripped with mockery. The words were gentle in tone, yet they struck with perfect precision.

"Then you’re claiming," Morpheus said slowly, his suspicion rekindling, "that the reason I couldn’t find you... is because you were walking around the castle? Not because you snuck into a place where you shouldn’t be?"

His gaze bored into her, sharp and searching, as though he could peel back her skin and see the truth beneath.

But Arabella only tilted her head, her laughter spilling softly, disarmingly. "If you don’t believe me, you could always ask."

The air shifted. Morpheus’s eyes narrowed.

"What are you waiting for?" she teased, taking a step forward now, her expression daring. "I know you have magic, spells that force honesty from the tongue. Go on. Do your worst. Ask me and see if I lied."

A dangerous silence stretched between them.

Morpheus’s jaw clenched. His teeth ground together as his voice came out low, shaking with the effort to restrain himself. "Do you think that just because you press me, I won’t do it?"

The torchlight danced across his silver hair, catching on the taut lines of his neck where anger crawled like something alive beneath the skin. His hands twitched at his sides.

Arabella only smiled wider, serene, untouchable, radiant beneath the pale wash of moonlight.

"Then prove it," she whispered, her tone dripping with challenge. "Show me what kind of man you truly are, Morpheus."

The hall fell deathly still, only the faint rustle of the curtains stirred as if the castle itself were holding its breath.

"I won’t fall for the argument that I wouldn’t use the spell on you just because I fear you begin to trust me," he warned but she scoffed with a shrug on her shoulder.

"Just do it," she pointed to his chest and laughed, "After all you’re nothing but a coward who wouldn’t feel at peace unless you find a concrete evidence. You can’t trust me so trust your magic unless you can’t trust that either."

Isaac who saw this panicked.

What was Arabella doing? Wouldn’t this be bad?! If he used the magic on her- he would know everything!

And as he feared, he watch as Morpheus walked closer toward her, raising his finger with magic that zapped his fingertips...