Reincarnate as the Villainess's Husband - Chapter 90

Chapter 90: Begin the hunt
Time had passed, yet the silence echoing within the stone walls of Addura Palace remained unchanged. The lifeless bodies of King Haruth and his son, Prince Darius, had long since grown cold. The servants carrying them moved with quiet, careful steps. Their corpses, wrapped in white sheets unstained by blood, were slowly borne through the stone corridors, accompanied only by the sound of footsteps reverberating through the halls.

The grand dining hall was still cold, still dark. The two empty chairs at the head of the table were the only sign that those who once occupied them were no longer there. Golden plates lay untouched, silver forks and knives glimmered faintly in the flickering candlelight. The remnants of an unfinished feast were enveloped in a tomb-like silence.

Queen Lysandra sat rigidly at the head of the table. Her back was straight, her face pale, but her expression remained unchanged. Her eyes, honed by years of nobility, swept over the room with a detached coldness. She was a queen. She had long since run out of tears. Only once did she lift the goblet of wine in her hand to her lips. But she did not drink. When she set the glass back on the table, she was the only one who noticed the slight tremble in her hands.

Elenora and Celeste sat across from their mother, their heads bowed, untouched plates before them. The pallor of their faces, the faint shadows beneath their eyes, bore witness to the devastation of the night they had endured. As their father’s and brother’s bodies were carried away, they had no choice but to accept the cold reality. But death had not been the swift escape they might have hoped for.

Near the door, the soft sobs of Alliaria could be heard. The little princess, not even three years old, was too young to understand how her palace had turned into a tomb. But even children could feel fear. Her mother holding her clutched the child tightly, whispering soothing words.

Yet the same fear lingered in the mom eyes. She was not King Haruth’s wife, she was only his concubine. She had no idea what was about to happen to her.

At last, Queen Lysandra lifted her head and looked at her daughters. “Neonidas will be here,” she said. Her voice was devoid of emotion, her expression as unmoving as a fractured statue. “Very soon.”

Elenora glanced at her mother from beneath long lashes. “We know.”

Celeste bowed her head slightly. “Our fate has already been sealed, Mother.”

Lysandra’s lips pressed together for a moment, then relaxed. “Yes,” she said. “It has.”

The sound of footsteps outside the door made everyone in the room instinctively stiffen. The soldiers were coming. The scrape of metal armor against metal cut through the stillness of the night like a blade.

When Neonidas finally stepped inside the palace, he did not head toward the throne room or the treasure vaults. His first stop was here: the silent, yet still unyielding family Haruth had left behind.

As the doors swung open, everyone inside held their breath. Standing beside Neonidas was Allea, her fiery red hair cascading over her shoulders. Her eyes were as cold as ice. Two dozen guards followed them in.

As Allea gazed at the queen, there was not even a hint of mockery in her expression. Neonidas, however, let his gaze sweep over the table and those seated around it. His eyes lingered on each one of them, brief but assessing.

These women, once the most dazzling figures of the capital’s grand balls, now sat before him as war’s spoils. And Neonidas was a man who knew how to make use of his spoils.

Finally, he broke the silence.

“Look like your king and son chose honor.” His voice carried neither praise nor disdain—only fact.

Queen Lysandra met his gaze. “And we are alive.”

Neonidas tilted his head slightly. “Yes.” Then he smiled. “But you no longer have the right to choose how you live.”

Elenora lifted her chin slightly and looked at him. “We already know that.”

Neonidas sat down in the luxurious chair that once belonged to the dead king and idly pushed aside his plate. “I’m so hungry, I could eat a Konotger.”

He reached for one of the golden plates and picked up a silver fork. Glancing indifferently at the food before him, he cut off a piece of meat and brought it to his mouth. As he chewed, the only sound in the hall was the faint clink of metal against porcelain.

The women across from him held their breath. Queen Lysandra’s expression did not change, but her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Celeste and Elenora exchanged a fleeting glance.

Allea, however, suddenly tensed.

The moment Neonidas took a bite, a cold sensation settled in her stomach. Her instincts screamed that something was wrong. Her crimson eyes scanned the table swiftly. The untouched plates, the goblets shimmering under the dim candlelight… And then, like a flashing signal, one detail stood out.

None of the women had eaten.

But Neonidas was not a fool who would overlook such details. When Allea turned to look at him, she found him already watching her. In his gaze, she saw it—the understanding, the knowledge. Allea said nothing.

To steady her heartbeat, she sat in the chair that had once belonged to the recently deceased prince of Hindonpon. Her fingers pressed lightly against the cold wooden edge. For the first time since childhood, she realized she was worried about someone other than herself. The thought unsettled her.

Neonidas noticed Allea’s stare, and tilting his head slightly, winked at her. Combined with his signature cocky smile, it sparked an unfamiliar flicker of anger in her. This man was just smiling while she was worried about him! This made Allea a little angry for some reason.

He casually stabbed his fork back into his plate, and the silence in the room grew heavier.

Queen Lysandra lowered her gaze to the table. “So, you have immunity,” she said flatly.

Neonidas only smiled. As he ate, he carefully observed the expressions of the three women. Sometimes, such moments revealed more about people than words ever could.

“From now on, the three of you belong to me.”

After those words, Neonidas turned to the guards. “Every remaining relative of King Haruth is to be executed. Especially his brothers and nephews.”

At his command, the guards immediately started toward the young men seated at the far end of the dining hall.

For a moment, the air grew unbearably heavy. The silence, already oppressive, became suffocating in the wake of Neonidas’s final decree. The slow, deliberate steps of the guards echoed against the stone floor as the young lords and noblemen sitting at the table realized their fate was sealed.

Elenora and Celeste looked at their mother. But Lysandra remained expressionless. There was no fear in her face, no anger—only the cold acceptance of the inevitable.

One of the young lords suddenly pushed back his chair and stood. “Neonidas!” he shouted, his voice trembling with fury. “This will be a massacre! We did not fight! We—”

He never finished his sentence.

One of the guards drew his sword and moved swiftly. The moment the steel touched his throat, the young lord’s eyes widened. Yet there was no scream, no attempt to flee. He only froze for a second before his lifeless body collapsed to the ground.

The others dared not even breathe.

Allea watched Neonidas’s expression carefully. His eyes were cold, as if this scene were just another routine event for him. He was a conqueror. And conquerors knew how to clean up the remnants.

Queen Lysandra stared at the empty goblet before her. “You won’t even grant them the dignity of a proper execution?”

Neonidas shrugged slightly. “Unnecessary.”

Celeste’s eyes glistened as she watched the approaching guards. In that moment, a flicker of something stirred within her—a panic, a desperate urge to flee. But where could she run? Where could she hide?

Elenora clenched her fists and gritted her teeth. They had no choice but to stand their ground. They were the heirs of a fallen dynasty, and their fate rested in Neonidas’s hands.

Some of the late King Haruth’s relatives were still within the palace, but others had managed to escape. Neonidas was determined to hunt down and kill them all—but first, he had to deal with those who remained.

“Do not stop. Kill every man in this hall.”

At his command, the guards quickened their pace. Their hands tightened around the hilts of their swords, their eyes locked onto their prey. The stone walls of the palace seemed to already be bracing themselves for the screams that would soon echo through the halls.

Elenora and Celeste held their breath as they watched. The young lords, who could feel death breathing down their necks, knocked over chairs in their frantic attempts to flee. But the grand dining hall was a trap. The looming shadows of the guards blocked every exit.

The first strikes cut through the air, and soon, the metallic scent of blood spread swiftly. The fall of the palace had been silent, but now death was making its presence known in all its dreadful glory.

Queen Lysandra closed her eyes. She would not mourn them—for mourning was a weakness in the hands of an enemy.

Neonidas, however, watched the scene with sharp attention. There was no pity in his gaze, no unnecessary thirst for violence. This was simply a necessity. If the seeds of a fallen dynasty were left to grow, they would one day rise again. He was merely clearing the soil.

But not everyone surrendered to their fate.

One of the young lords, his hands trembling, reached for a knife on the table. He knew there was no escape, but if he could kill Neonidas… if he could just succeed…

The blade glinted under the candlelight. With a desperate cry, the young lord lunged at Neonidas.

Neonidas did not move.

Because Allea did.

Her sword flashed through the air, a streak of silver against her fiery red hair. The young lord’s throat was slit open before he could even register what had happened.

His knife fell to the ground. And then, so did he…

Allea slowly withdrew her blade, watching as the blood dripped from its edge. There was no emotion in her eyes. No regret, no anger, no triumph…

Neonidas turned his head slightly toward her. His smirk was as arrogant as ever. “You were fast.”

Allea flicked the blood off her sword. Her voice was cold. “It was unnecessary.”

Queen Lysandra blinked as she watched the scene unfold. For the first time, even if only for the briefest moment, she truly noticed her—the woman from the legends, the princess who had once been the pillar that stopped a monstrous invasion. Red princess Allea.

Neonidas picked up his goblet again, swirling the wine inside. “Once we’re done here, we’ll hunt down the ones who escaped.”

Celeste’s fists clenched tightly. “Will you kill us too?”

Neonidas looked at her. “No.”

For a moment, the entire room fell still.

Neonidas tilted his head slightly. “You misunderstand me. I only kill those who are unnecessary.”

His gaze swept over Lysandra, Elenora, and Celeste. “You are not unnecessary.”

Allea silently watched Neonidas. She didn’t know his exact plan, but she could guess. And though she briefly considered opposing him, she decided against it. She remembered their previous arguments—the decision they had ultimately reached.

Queen Lysandra, for the first time, met his gaze directly. “Do you consider leaving us alive a mercy?”

Neonidas let out a quiet laugh. “No. An investment.”

A guard appeared at the door, bowing before stepping inside. “Your Majesty… The fugitives have begun to flee the city. We await your orders.”

Neonidas rose to his feet, unhurried. “Begin the hunt.”

And at that moment, the true end of an era came to Addura Palace.