The sun never truly rose over Ravenscourt Manor—at least not in the way it did for the rest of the world. Even in the morning, the light filtered through the dense forest in ghostly rays, diffused by fog that clung to the cold ground like a secret. Inside the manor's eastern wing, fires burned in every hearth to fight off the deep chill. But in Franziska's private receiving room, the cold wasn't from the weather.
It was from Prince Nikolai Vasiliev.
He sat calmly in the antique armchair across from her, legs crossed, a glass of aged scotch untouched in his gloved hand. The heir to the fallen Vasiliev throne—exiled Russian royalty, billionaire entrepreneur, and rumored assassin. His reputation was as sharp as his jawline, and twice as dangerous.
Franziska entered, flanked by two guards in midnight blue. Her expression was unreadable, lips painted a regal crimson, eyes sharp enough to slice through lies.
"You requested a private audience," she said, voice velvet and ice.
Nikolai stood and gave a slight bow, a rare show of respect. "Your Majesty," he greeted, using the title few dared to say aloud. "I come bearing a gift... and a warning."
Franziska raised a brow. "You never give without expectation. Let's not pretend otherwise."
He smirked, finally taking a sip of his drink. "Always so direct. Fine, then. The Order of Ares is planning to breach your archives in Ottawa. They've acquired a key—a descendant of the original Cipher Keeper. They plan to use him to unlock your mother's vault."
Franziska stilled. Her fingers twitched slightly over the armrest. The vault her mother had died protecting contained more than scrolls or ancient secrets—it contained the Blood Ledger, a book of alliances and betrayals spanning five dynasties. If it fell into enemy hands, every connection she'd built would unravel.
"And the gift?" she asked.
Nikolai reached into his coat and produced a silver flash drive. He tossed it gently onto the table between them.
"Surveillance footage. One of your inner council members is working with them. I don't know who you trust anymore—but I know you don't trust anyone fully."
Franziska remained silent, but her mind was racing. A traitor. Of course. Power never existed without shadows—and someone had finally chosen to move from hers.
"Why help me?" she finally asked.
He stood, eyes meeting hers with the calm of someone who always had a backup plan. "Because chaos is a ladder. And I want to climb it with you, not against you."
She rose as well, slowly, like a lioness deciding whether or not to pounce. They were nearly the same height. Their gazes locked—two rulers with too many secrets and too much blood on their hands.
"I don't share thrones," she said coolly.
He leaned in, voice low. "I'm not asking to share. I'm asking to stand beside the Queen Card... when the deck burns."
And just like that, he turned and walked out, leaving the heavy silence in his wake.
Franziska stood alone, the flash drive in her hand, a storm behind her eyes.
Outside, the sky began to darken once more. The calm before the next move.
Inside, betrayal had a new name.