A bucket of icy water was thrown over the captured assassin, sending his head snapping backward as the guards forced his eyes open.

He coughed violently, gasping for breath while water streamed down his face and soaked his clothes. As his vision cleared, he looked around the dim dungeon, his eyes settling on the unfamiliar faces surrounding him.

Instinctively he struggled against his restraints, only to realize that his wrists and ankles had been bound tightly to the chair. Even his mouth had been gagged, leaving him with no way to speak.

"Remove the gag," Cedric instructed the guard standing nearby.

The guard stepped forward without delay and untied the cloth from the man’s mouth.

The very moment he was freed, the assassin spat onto the floor at Cedric’s feet.

Cedric merely lowered his eyes to the saliva before lifting them again, his expression remaining as composed as ever. "Who are you, and who sent you?" he asked calmly.

The assassin let out a dry laugh. "You’re fooling yourself if you think I’ll tell you anything."

Cedric tilted his head ever so slightly, studying him with quiet patience. "You are remarkably stubborn," he remarked.

"Even after realizing you no longer have the luxury of dying by your own hand and will instead live through whatever punishment awaits you, you still choose to protect the person who ordered you to murder an innocent woman."

His eyes gradually hardened as he stepped closer and rested a hand against the chair. The assassin instinctively leaned away from him.

"Have you stopped to consider that your master values his own secrets more than your life?" Cedric continued evenly. "He gave you a means to die because he was prepared to sacrifice you the moment your mission failed. Yet you still remain loyal to someone who sees you as disposable."

He paused, allowing those words to settle.

"You can still be useful. Tell us who sent you, and perhaps the consequences you face will not be as severe as you imagine."

Despite the calmness in Cedric’s voice, there was an undeniable firmness behind every word. He was not threatening the man for the sake of cruelty. He was simply giving him one final opportunity to speak before harsher methods became necessary.

"Crap," the assassin scoffed.

He had been paid generously, but money was only part of it. He knew exactly the kind of man he served, and betrayal would never be forgiven. Even if he somehow escaped this place alive, his own master would hunt him down without hesitation.

"It seems we’ll have to do this the difficult way."

The voice came from the darkest corner of the dungeon.

Everyone turned as Rowan finally stepped forward from the shadows where he had remained silent all this time, watching every exchange without interruption. His patience had been wearing thinner with every passing moment. The longer the assassin refused to speak, the greater the danger became.

Whoever had orchestrated all of this had already kidnapped Rebecca and Julian, attempted to murder Rebecca inside the palace itself, and might very well target someone else next. Rowan could not afford to wait while another life was placed in danger.

His boots echoed steadily against the stone floor as he approached. The assassin narrowed his eyes, trying to make out the figure emerging from the darkness, and within moments Rowan stepped into the candlelight.

Cedric quietly moved aside with the guards, leaving the king standing directly before the prisoner. The faint glow reflected against the embroidery and stones decorating Rowan’s robe, while his face remained completely unreadable.

"I advise you to start talking," Rowan said quietly.

The assassin met his gaze without flinching. "And what will you do if I don’t?"

A slow, arrogant smile tugged at his lips.

"I’ve heard stories about you," he continued. "People say you’re too soft-hearted to be king. They say you forgive far too easily and allow people to walk away with little more than a warning. So I find it hard to believe you’d actually torture me... or kill me."

Silence settled over the dungeon.

Every pair of eyes shifted toward Rowan, waiting to see how he would respond.

Then, to everyone’s surprise, Rowan gave a faint chuckle. "I wonder..." he murmured, never taking his eyes off the assassin. "Have you mistaken my kindness for weakness?"

His voice remained calm, yet every word carried an unmistakable weight. "I choose mercy when it serves a purpose. I choose restraint because it often achieves more than blind punishment. That does not mean I lack the will to do what is necessary."

He took another slow step forward.

"I am fully capable of every punishment you believe I cannot carry out." His gaze remained fixed on the assassin’s face. "If you require proof, I can provide it."

For the first time, uncertainty flickered across the assassin’s expression.

He watched as Rowan walked calmly toward the candle burning on the table. His thoughts raced through every punishment he could imagine. Perhaps the king intended to slice off his fingers, or break his bones one by one. His stomach tightened at every possibility until one particularly horrifying thought crossed his mind, making him swallow hard.

Rowan, however, did nothing of the sort.

He simply lifted the candle and returned to stand before him.

"No one endures unbearable pain forever," Rowan said evenly. "So I’ll give you one last chance to choose."

The assassin stared at the candle in confusion as Rowan slowly raised it toward his face. Surely the king was only trying to frighten him.

He would never actually...

Rowan silently counted the passing seconds in his mind.

One.

Two...

The assassin remained silent.

Without another word, Rowan tilted the candle ever so slightly.

Hot wax dripped onto the assassin’s scalp.

The man hissed sharply as the burning liquid struck his skin. His breathing grew heavier, and he clenched his fists until the ropes dug into his wrists. He blew hurried breaths upward, trying to cool the sting, yet he stubbornly refused to utter a single word.

Rowan watched him in silence.

Then, for the briefest moment, another image forced its way into his mind.

What if it had not been Rebecca lying helpless on that bed?

What if it had been Rosalind instead?

What if the people behind all of this had chosen to strike at him through the woman he loved... and by the time he arrived, she was already gone?

The anger returned in full force, causing Rowan’s jaw to clench tightly as his attention shifted back to the assassin.

Cedric and the others watched in stunned silence, their mouths turning dry as they saw the king lower the assassin’s hair into the candle’s flame. The man jerked violently against the chair, desperately trying to shake off the fire that had begun to spread through his hair, while Rowan simply stepped back and watched him without a flicker of emotion.

The flames climbed quickly, devouring strands of hair as the heat intensified, and within moments agonizing screams echoed through the dungeon.