The End of Your Arrogance - Chapter 30.2

Ilya often dreamed of the two of them, of seeing their faces and hearing their laughter. The nightmares that followed were unbearable, and his insomnia only grew worse with each passing day.

He covered his eyes with one hand, taking a deep breath and trying to calm himself. But the darkness inside his chest stirred, the anger and pain that he had buried deep within him resurfacing once again.

“Brother, I’m glad I didn’t have to kill you with my own hands before I came back,” he muttered bitterly.

Suddenly, a creaking sound drew his attention, and he looked up to see a knight stepping into the room. “Don’t you know how to knock?” he snapped, his voice still laced with irritation.

“Your Highness, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I thought it was time to offer my greetings upon my return,” the knight said, bowing low.

Ilya beamed, pushing himself up from the sofa. “Stas,” he said, “it’s good to see you again.”

“My apologies for my delayed return, Your Majesty,” Stas said as he bowed before Ilya.

“It’s quite alright,” Ilya replied, looking up from his work. “I heard you were instrumental in managing the logistics. That’s commendable.”

As Stas stood up, the two faced each other across the desk.

“How was your meeting with Viscount Lauren?” Ilya asked.

“Productive, Your Majesty. He was his usual self,” Stas replied.

“I can imagine. Managing Lauren Province is always a challenge. I appreciate your efforts.”

Stas handed Ilya a letter he had received from the Viscount. The luxurious paper crumpled under Ilya’s fingers as he unfolded it.

“Speak with my son?” he asked, scanning the letter. “Where is he, and where did his wife go?”

“They’re on their honeymoon, Your Majesty.”

“He got married again?” Ilya frowned. He knew well of Viscount Lauren’s notorious amorous pursuits. This was his fifth marriage, and he was already on his honeymoon. “So his youngest lizard is coming,” he muttered, his thoughts turning to the Viscount’s handsome son. Why did he have to arrive now, of all times?

“Actually, Your Majesty, it’s a water snake,” Stas corrected him gently. The emblem of Viscount Lauren, ruler of the western region, was a giant water snake with blue scales.

“That’s what I meant,” Ilya muttered.

The door creaked open, and a figure draped in a black robe strode into the room. He moved with an air of authority, his strides confident and sure as he took a seat opposite Ilya. Without a word, he fixed his gaze upon the duke, studying him intently.

“How does it feel to sit there? Your Highness.” The stranger’s voice was deep and smooth. Ilya eyed the man with cool detachment, his expression inscrutable.

“I was feeling good until I saw your face, it makes me angry. Nikolas Lauren.” Ilya’s words were like venom as he sharpened his knife, the steel flashing dangerously in the dim light of the chamber.

“You haven’t even seen my face yet, how could you be angry already?” Nikolas’ voice was steady, his tone almost playful. He reached up, slowly drawing back the hood of his robe, revealing his face to the prince. The guards standing watch around the room gasped in astonishment as Nikolas’ silver hair and chiseled features were unveiled.

“Oh my goodness! He looks just like the Duke! The resemblance is uncanny!” One of the guards exclaimed, unable to contain his amazement. Nikolas chuckled, his green eyes glittering like emeralds in the shadows. He was stunning, with a face that could make even the most hardened heart skip a beat.

“Why are you staring at me like that? Is it because I look so much like your dead brother?” Nikolas’ words were light, but there was a hint of steel beneath them.

Nikolas Lauren, the youngest son of the ruling lord of the West, the Marquis of Lauren. He was the maternal uncle of the late Grand Duke Nasir of Ajauntice, and he and his nephew were as similar as twin brothers. The resemblance between them was so striking that it was almost eerie.

“Cut the nonsense and get to the point. Why are you here?” Ilya demanded.

Nikolas replied, “Your side sent a letter proposing an alliance. I came here on orders from Marquis Lauren.” The Marquis had wasted no time in commanding his youngest son to journey to the Grand Duke’s territory of Ajauntice upon receiving the letter.

Ilya’s lips thinned at Nikolas’s words. He wasn’t fond of the man’s appearance or attitude, but he couldn’t deny that Nikolas was a skilled negotiator.

“Would you like a drink?” Ilya offered.

“Bacardi,” Nikolas replied.

A smirk formed on Ilya’s lips at the predictability of the request. A few moments later, a maid appeared with a bottle of Bacardi, two glasses, spoons, and sugar cubes. Nikolas’s eyes widened in admiration as he poured the liquor. “Wow, this is why people say the North is great. Look at this beautiful green color.”

Without hesitation, the two men clinked their glasses and downed the Bacardi as if it were water.