All Chapters of The Devil From Deira: Chapter 41 - Chapter 46

The palace doctor’s visits had stopped days ago, at Isabelle’s insistence. Since that night in the room, she had learned to hold her pain where no one could touch it, deep enough that even Adrian would not see. Her body still bore faint bruises where Malcolm’s hands had gripped her arms, but it was her silence that ached the most.The world was already heavy with secrets; one more, she thought, could drown quietly without notice.So she smiled through her morning walks and recited her duties as though nothing had cracked beneath her ribs. Spencer was the only one who noticed the tremor in her voice.That morning, they walked along the castle gardens, a stretch of dew-kissed roses and gravel paths shaded by budding trees. The air smelled faintly of rain. Spencer, ever the loyal knight, trailed half a step behind, speaking softly about the soldiers stationed near the gates.“Adrian’s orders were firm,” he said. “No one without clearance enters these grounds. Still, I saw new faces among

The first screams came with the sunrise.From the high walls of Adrian’s castle, the watchmen saw the royal banners advancing — crimson silk and black-armoured riders moving under forged decrees that bore the Queen’s seal. Alastair’s plan was perfect on parchment: strike before dawn, seize the prince, present him to the throne as a traitor.But parchment burns faster than flesh.Before the soldiers reached the capital gates, Adrian’s scouts intercepted the message. By the time Alastair’s men entered the royal grounds, Adrian’s army had already crossed the river under cover of mist, steel whispering from scabbards.When the sun rose fully, it rose upon chaos.Flames licked the velvet banners that hung above the marble corridor. The air reeked of smoke and iron. Adrian’s blade met the first wave of palace guards with merciless precision. His black cloak, slashed and ash-streaked, swept behind him like a shadow made flesh.“Hold the eastern wing!” he shouted over the din. “No fire near t

The night after the battle was eerily silent.No drums, no horns, only the sigh of wind through charred stone and the faint toll of the mourning bell that rang for Deira’s fallen. The war was over, but peace did not yet know how to settle its wings upon the kingdom.Queen Indira was captured before dawn.She did not resist. Her silks were torn, her crown gone, her once-imperious face calm as she was escorted through the ruins of her own making. Servants and guards alike watched her pass in mute disbelief. The woman who had ruled their lives through fear now moved like a shadow among the ashes.She was confined to her chambers under guard. The same room where she had once plotted her empire now stood stripped and dim, the mirrors draped in mourning cloth.That night, she requested parchment and ink.When the guards returned at sunrise, they found her seated by the window, her head tilted slightly as though she were still deep in thought. The goblet beside her was empty. The poison had