CHAPTER TWELVE
1146 Words
[Flashback: Earlier That Evening]
The party had only begun warming up when Pickles stormed into sss's room like a mini hurricane.
"You have to go, sss. You have to. Please. I'm your biggest fan and I can't survive this evening without you there," he begged, eyes glassy and melodramatic, wearing a tux far too tailored for a seven-year-old.
Amazon raised a brow, still halfway through buttoning her blouse. "I'm not exactly on the guest list, Pickles."
"Who cares? I'm the Prince of this palace!" he puffed his chest. "And if I want my goddess to attend, she will. Besides... King said you'd probably ditch, so I made a plan."
She paused. "King?"
"Yeah. He dropped by, but you were at the back garden reading like a total emo loner. He told me you probably wouldn’t show and to make sure I dragged you in. Said something about chaos needing elegance. I don’t even know what that means."
Amazon stared for a moment. So King had noticed.
"Also, Aunt Aqua told me to bring you. She thinks you’ll make Gramps smile. Everyone’s scared of him but you’re just... you." He flashed a grin.
That had sealed it. Somehow, this strange mix of affection, calculation, and curiosity from King, Aqua, and Pickles had lured her in.
---
Now, in the middle of the roaring party, sss felt cold eyes on her.
Hermit.
He stood near the staircase, drink in hand, tie slightly loosened, eyes as dangerous as a blade unsheathed. He hadn’t said a word when she entered the party earlier beside Pickles, but the slight twitch of his jaw gave everything away.
He was not pleased.
Not about the dress, not about the fact that she arrived with Pickles.
Not about the attention she drew.
Later that night, on the balcony where the stars cast shadows over the terrace, he cornered her with silence first. Then words, sharp and cold.
"You disobeyed."
She tilted her head. "Was I yours to obey?"
"Don’t play clever, sss. You know what you’re doing."
She gave him a tight smile. "You mean breathing? Or existing?"
"Showing up with my nephew in a dress that turns heads and walking like the world burns beneath your feet."
Amazon stepped closer, inches between their chests.
"Funny, Hermit. I thought you liked fire."
His breath caught. His knuckles were white from how tightly he held his glass.
"Just be careful, sss. Because fire either warms... or burns."
She leaned in, her lips almost brushing his ear.
"Then maybe you should decide whether you're the frost I melt... or the one who gets scorched."
They stood still, frozen in a storm of unsaid desires and unspoken wounds.
Meanwhile...
King stood by the staircase, watching. Not eavesdropping—he didn’t care enough to hide. He saw everything. The chemistry. The tension.
But what disturbed him wasn’t the way Hermit looked at her—it was how sss looked back. Not like prey, but like someone who’d fought worse monsters.
Snow, from her corner of the banquet hall, noticed King watching sss again.
She turned toward Athena and leaned in.
"You see it too, right? That witch has both Hermit and King tangled."
Athena smirked, sipping her wine.
"Then we unravel her."
Snow’s lashes fluttered. "How? She’s immune to poison."
"Then we slice her where she won’t notice. From the inside out."
They clinked glasses, a pact sealed with bitterness and gold.
The wind smelled of cinnamon and money.
Amazon stood by the arched window of the Kingston mansion’s south wing, the silk curtains fluttering around her like whispers of something that no longer dared speak. Her emerald eyes traced the road winding away from the estate. Somewhere out there, King was watching—waiting. But for what, even she didn’t know.
Downstairs, the buzz of the post-party cleanup could be heard. Champagne glasses clinking. Distant laughter from the staff who finally let their masks slip. But upstairs, it was eerily quiet.
Until the door opened.
Hermit walked in without knocking. As always. His eyes were ice cut from glaciers. "What did you talk about with him?"
Amazon didn’t turn. "You’ll need to be more specific. A lot of men talk to me lately."
His jaw clenched. He took a step closer, the scent of storm-drenched woods wrapping around her like a threat.
"King," he said.
"Oh," she said with mock surprise. "Him."
"You’re laughing in his presence."
"Because he’s funny. You wouldn’t know the feeling."
Silence stretched like a blade between them.
Then he said quietly, "You don’t belong to him."
She turned around now, slow and deliberate. "I don’t belong to anyone."
His fingers twitched by his side. "Yet."
She stepped forward until they were nearly touching. "Is that what this is about? A game of ownership? I’m not a stock to be acquired, Hermit."
He leaned down. His voice was like thunder whispered into velvet. "Then stop acting like a free agent."
Her breath hitched for a second before she scoffed, brushing past him. "Tell that to your demons. They seem louder than mine."
---
Meanwhile...
In another hallway, Snow walked hand-in-hand with Athena.
“I heard they laughed,” Athena said through gritted teeth. “At grandfather’s party. sss and King. Together.”
Snow forced a chuckle, the corners of her lips trembling. "Let her laugh. I’ll wipe it off her face soon."
"You sure you want to go down this path?” Athena asked. "Hermit won’t tolerate—"
"He won’t have a choice," Snow snapped, her tone sugar and venom. "All I need is one good scandal. One little twist. She’s fire, right? Let’s see how well fire burns in the middle of an icy reputation storm."
Athena gave her a knowing look. "So, we plant the seed?"
Snow smiled. "We water it, feed it... and watch her drown in it."
---
Back in sss’s room, Pickles burst through the door, carrying a giant stuffed dinosaur.
"I named him Tyran-no-kiss-you!"
Amazon blinked. "That’s... creative."
"I brought him because you looked sad during the party, and King said people who look sad usually like dinosaurs."
She laughed. For real.
Hermit, standing quietly by the door, didn’t smile. But his eyes softened.
"King said that, huh?" sss asked, brushing Pickles’ snowy hair.
"Yup. But he also said you’re scary sometimes. Like the cool scary."
Amazon chuckled again, but her heart was tightening.
Did King know?
Was this his doing?
How had Pickles ended up on her arm when she entered the party, making her the center of curious stares and whispers?
It hadn’t been planned.
Or had it?
She narrowed her eyes slightly.
Outside her door, Hermit stood like a carved statue. Cold. Still.
But if fire was meant to melt ice, it was unclear who was burning who.
And as for King... the next encounter might not be laughter. It might be war.
- Writer
