The following day on set felt strangely muted, despite the usual flurry of activity. The vibrant costumes and meticulously crafted sets seemed to lack their usual luster, overshadowed by the persistent knot of worry that Levi's silence had created. Every time my phone vibrated with a notification, my heart leaped, only to sink again when it wasn't him.

The hours crawled by, filled with takes and retakes. My focus wavered, my lines sometimes feeling distant as my thoughts kept returning to the opulent, potentially volatile atmosphere of the Royal Palace. What was happening there? Was Levi alright? Isolde's urgent need to contact him, Julia's unsettling concern – the pieces of the puzzle refused to fit together, leaving a gnawing sense of unease.

"Everything okay, Raph?" Finn asked during a lighting change, his usual cheerful demeanor tinged with concern. "You seem a bit… off today."

I forced a smile. "Yeah, just tired. Long night shoot yesterday." It was a half-truth, and they both knew it.

“I need someone to slap me into reality. Really. I’m not joking.” I said while rubbing my temples.

Maya stepped forward without hesitation. "Consider it done." Before I could fully register her intent, a sharp, stinging slap landed squarely on my cheek.

My head snapped to the side, a surprised gasp escaping my lips. The sudden shock, though momentarily disorienting, did have the desired effect. The fog of worry and exhaustion seemed to recede slightly, replaced by a startled awareness of my surroundings.

Finn winced, looking slightly horrified. "Whoa, Maya! He meant like a metaphorical slap!"

Maya shrugged, her expression unapologetic. "He said he wasn't joking. Sometimes, you just need a little… percussive maintenance to recalibrate." She looked at me, her eyes filled with genuine concern. "Better?"

"Fair enough," I conceded, rubbing the spot. "Effective, if a little… direct. And yes," I sighed, glancing at my reflection in a nearby mirror, where a distinct red mark was blooming, "you did compromise the artistry of Tia. You may owe her a heartfelt apology and possibly a lifetime supply of glitter."

Maya rolled her eyes, but a sheepish grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Alright, alright. Artistic integrity must be upheld. Consider Tia appeased. But seriously, Raph," her tone turned serious again, "are you really okay?"

Finn stepped closer, his brow furrowed. "Seriously, Raph, what's going on? You're clearly worried. Is this Levi thing… unusual?" He exchanged a concerned glance with Maya. "He seemed pretty good about staying in touch."

Maya, already heading towards the makeup station with a sheepish expression, called back, "Yeah, spill it. We're your friends. Maybe we can help, or at least offer some non-percussive support."

“You would not even comprehend what is he doing right now. And it is better for you not know either. So, don’t ask. But yeah, he didn’t reply over a day I am worried about him.”

Finn and Maya exchanged a knowing glance. Finn nodded slowly. "Alright, alright. No need to elaborate. If you say it's better we don't know, we trust you." He placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "But we're here for you, Raph. If you need to vent, or just want a distraction from the radio silence, we're your guys."

Maya returned from her slightly mortified apology to the makeup artist, offering a sympathetic smile. "Exactly. Consider us your 'worry distraction unit.' We can talk about anything – bad movie tropes… whatever it takes to keep your mind occupied."

"Thanks, guys," I said, a genuine smile finally breaking through my worried facade. “I need noise, you know? Let’s drink and wallow in dirt like pigs, yeah? You can also bring other people if you want to. I’ll cover the tab.”

Finn's eyes lit up, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Now that's an offer I can't refuse. Consider it a date." He clapped me on the shoulder.

Maya's initial concern softened into a knowing smile. "Noise and dirt. My two favorite things, surprisingly. Count me in. And yes," she added, pulling out her phone, "I know a few other souls on this production who could definitely use a good wallow. I'll send out the bat signal."

True to our word, as soon as the cameras stopped rolling and the final "cut" echoed across the set, a small but enthusiastic group of us descended upon a local establishment known for its potent drinks and no-frills atmosphere.

The initial tension that had hung over me gradually eased, replaced by the easy camaraderie of my friends and colleagues. Finn regaled us with increasingly ridiculous anecdotes from past film sets and even the more reserved members of the crew loosened up after a few rounds.

I found myself laughing, truly laughing, for the first time all day. The worry for Levi was still a dull ache in the background, a persistent hum beneath the surface of the revelry, but for a few precious hours, it was muted by the warmth of good company and the temporary escape that alcohol and shared silliness provided.

As the night wore on, the conversations became more personal, the laughter punctuated by moments of quiet understanding. Finn and Maya, though still in the dark about the specifics of Levi's absence, offered unwavering support, their presence a comforting reminder that I wasn't alone, even if the person I longed to hear from was miles away, embroiled in a world I couldn't fully comprehend.

The boisterous laughter around the table seemed to fade into a muffled hum as my phone vibrated against the sticky surface. My heart leaped, a sudden, sharp pang of hope cutting through the alcohol-induced haze.

It was a text from Levi.

Just three words, stark and brutal in their simplicity.

"The king died."

The air seemed to thicken, the lively chatter of my friends fading into an echoing silence. The weight of those three words crashed down on me, heavy and suffocating. My breath hitched, and the hand holding the phone trembled.

"Raph? What is it?" Finn asked, his voice laced with concern as he saw the color drain from my face. Maya leaned closer, her playful expression replaced by one of worried intensity.

I couldn't speak, couldn't tear my gaze away from the devastating message.

The king was dead.

A wave of nausea washed over me, the remnants of the alcohol turning sour in my stomach. The King died.

My immediate instinct was to deny it, to scream that it couldn't be true. But a cold dread, a chilling certainty, began to take root. Levi had been at the palace, facing a recalcitrant council. He had spoken of "terrorizing" them into obedience.

And now… the king was dead.

My gaze flickered around the dimly lit bar, the faces of my friends blurred and indistinct. Could Levi have done it? Could the man who had held me in his arms just days ago, who had prepared a gentle breakfast for my hangover, be capable of such an act?

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The Duke persona, the facade of power and control, flashed through my mind. The subtle hints of ruthlessness I had glimpsed beneath the charming exterior. The stories of his political maneuvering, his unwavering determination to achieve his goals.

A terrifying possibility began to solidify in my consciousness. Perhaps the "persuasion" he had intended for the council had extended to the ultimate form of coercion. Perhaps the "unforeseen complications" Julia had mentioned were the direct result of Levi's actions.

My breath grew shallow. I had joked about him being the Devil, but now… the thought felt chillingly real.

The sudden, frantic movement startled Finn and Maya. They scrambled to their feet, their faces etched with concern and confusion as I bolted towards the exit of the bar. The noise and laughter of the other patrons faded behind me as I burst out into the cool night air, my lungs burning with each desperate breath.

I fumbled with my phone, my hands shaking so violently that it almost slipped from my grasp. I scrolled through my contacts, my vision blurring until I found Holden's number. I pressed it, holding the phone to my ear with a trembling hand, my heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird.

The phone rang, each insistent tone amplifying the chaos in my mind. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Holden's calm voice answered.

"Good evening, Mr. Blake. Is everything alright?" His usual composed tone held a hint of surprise at the late hour of my call.

"Holden," I gasped, my voice tight with panic, "… Levi just texted me… he said... What happened? Is it true?"

I needed to know. I needed to hear it from someone who would tell me the truth, someone connected to Levi's world, before my own terrifying imaginings consumed me entirely.

“Yes. Mr. Blake, the King passed away.”

“You… You… You call me a chopper take me to the palace.”

“Mr. Blake I can’t not comply-”

“Holden. This is not a request. It is an order, from the husband of sole heir of Blake household. Call me a chopper and take me to the palace. NOW!”

Holden's usually unflappable voice wavered for a fraction of a second. "Yes, Mr. Blake. Understood. I... I was instructed to anticipate your need for transport in the event of such news. A helicopter is already en route to your location. Please provide your current address."

My breath hitched, a strange mix of relief and terror washing over me. Levi had anticipated this. He had known the King's death was imminent, or at least a strong possibility. The implications of that realization sent another shiver of dread down my spine.

"I'm... I'm near the docks, outside a bar called 'The Salty Siren'," I stammered, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "Hurry, Holden. Please."

"Understood, Mr. Blake. ETA approximately fifteen minutes. Please remain in a secure location."

I hung up, my legs feeling weak. Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes until I was back in the viper's nest, facing the unknown consequences of the King's death and Levi's role in it. Finn and Maya stood beside me, their faces pale with concern, the remnants of our drunken revelry completely gone.

"The King is dead," I whispered, the words feeling heavy and surreal. "Levi... Levi knew."

My husband, the charming Duke, was now at the heart of a political earthquake, and I was hurtling headfirst into the aftershocks.

Finn's face was a mask of shock. "The King... dead? Holy shit, Raph. What the hell is going on?" He looked at me, his eyes wide with disbelief and a dawning sense of fear.

Maya's hand gripped my arm tightly, her knuckles white. "Raph, what did you mean?" Her voice was trembling slightly, the carefree facade of moments ago completely shattered. "And a helicopter? You have a helicopter on speed dial?"

The sheer scale of the situation seemed to be hitting them both with full force. They looked from me to the sky, as if expecting a black aircraft to materialize out of the night at any moment, their expressions a mixture of fear and utter bewilderment.

My voice was low and urgent, the reality of the situation sinking in with terrifying clarity. "Listen to me," I said, my gaze locking onto each of theirs in turn. "What you just heard... the King... Levi... none of this leaves this spot. Not a word to anyone. Not a single soul. Do you understand?"

I emphasized each word, the weight of my plea heavy in the cool night air. "This isn't some drama. This is real. This could be... dangerous. For Levi, for me, for all of us. Until this is public knowledge, until it's officially announced, you know nothing. You saw nothing. You heard nothing. Promise me. Swear to me."

Finn and Maya stared at me, the shock on their faces slowly morphing into a grim understanding.

Finn, his usual lightheartedness completely gone, nodded slowly. "Okay, Raph. Okay. Not a word. We swear. Right, Maya?" He looked at her, his expression solemn.

Maya's eyes were wide, but her voice was firm. "Absolutely. Not a peep. It's like it never happened. We were just... saying goodnight after a long shoot." She swallowed hard, her gaze flicking towards the sky, as if already anticipating the arrival of the helicopter. "Just tell us... are you going to be okay?"

"I... I don't know," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "But I have to go. I have to see what's happening."

The helicopter descended, its powerful rotors whipping the air around us. The wind whipped my hair across my face as I stared up at the imposing machine.

Maya's question cut through my rising panic, a practical concern midst the swirling chaos. "Raphael, how are you even going to get into the palace? With all that's happening..." Her voice trailed off.

My gaze hardened, the shock and fear beginning to coalesce into a cold, simmering rage. How dare this happen? How dare this world of political intrigue and deadly power games touch the fragile peace we had found?

"I am the husband of the sole heir of the Blake Dukedom," I stated, my voice ringing with a newfound authority, cutting through the roar of the helicopter. "I am the husband of the Saint of Ascaria." I stepped forward, my chin held high, the fear replaced by a fierce protectiveness. "That palace will open its doors. They will not dare to keep me out." The helicopter landed, the door sliding open, revealing Holden's impassive face. Without a backward glance at my stunned friends, I moved towards the waiting aircraft, the fury propelling me forward into the unknown.

The helicopter ride was a blur of flashing city lights and the rhythmic thrum of the rotors. Holden sat opposite me, his usual composure unwavering, though I could sense a subtle tension in his posture. He didn't offer any further information, and I didn't press.

As we approached the Royal Palace, its imposing silhouette loomed against the night sky. The grounds were eerily quiet, the usual bustling activity absent, replaced by an unsettling stillness.

The helicopter landed smoothly on a private helipad within the Palace walls. As the rotors wound down, the silence was almost deafening. Holden rose and gestured towards the waiting doors. "Mr. Blake," he said, his voice low, "I will escort you inside."

Fear warred with a burning determination within me. Whatever had happened, whatever Levi had done, I would face it head-on. With a deep breath, I followed Holden towards the imposing palace doors, ready to confront whatever lay beyond.

The heavy oak doors swung inward with a silent groan, revealing a scene that sent a fresh wave of icy dread through me. It was a council room, grand and imposing, lined with dark wood paneling and portraits of stern-faced monarchs. Ten men, their faces etched with a mixture of shock, anger, and perhaps even fear, were seated on opposing leather couches.

And there, standing behind a large, ornate chair at the head of the room, his posture radiating a chilling authority, was Levi. His usual air of relaxed charm was gone, replaced by a regal severity. His gaze, sharp and unwavering, was fixed on the men seated before him.

Levi's voice, when he finally spoke, was calm and resonant, cutting through the suffocating tension in the room. He didn't turn his gaze from the seated men, but his words were directed solely at me. "Ah, gentlemen. Please meet my husband, my light."

Only then did he extend a hand towards me, his eyes, when they finally met mine, holding a complex mixture of something akin to relief, but also a stark warning.

Despite the turmoil in my own heart, I forced myself to take his hand. His grip was firm, a grounding presence in the swirling chaos. I could feel the weight of the gazes of the ten men on me, their expressions ranging from open hostility to a more guarded curiosity.

"Gentlemen," I said, my voice surprisingly steady despite the tremor in my hand, my gaze sweeping across their faces, "I understand there has been... news." I met Levi's eyes again, seeking guidance, understanding.

Levi's grip on my hand tightened momentarily before he released it, finally turning to face the ten men seated before him. His blue eyes swept across their faces, a predatory glint in their depths. "Indeed," he confirmed, his voice now carrying a weight of authority that brooked no argument. "The beloved king of our nation passed away a mere two hours ago."