CHAPTER 259: PLAYING THE MONSTER

Primrose had spent the whole morning planning exactly what she’d say to Silas, topics that would gently guide his thoughts toward Hazelle’s slave seal’s secret word.

But the moment she sat across from the man, all those carefully prepared strategies suddenly felt hard to put into action.

"Dr. Silas, why did you bring your assistant along?" she asked with a polite smile, her eyes drifting to Hazelle, who stood quietly behind him. "Didn’t I mention that I just wanted to have tea with you this afternoon?"

Silas smiled calmly. "I’m afraid my assistant can’t be left alone for long, Your Majesty. She has ... some mental health concerns."

Mental health concerns, my foot.

He just didn’t want Hazelle to rest, not even for a few minutes. No wonder she always looked so pale and worn out. Even now, when all they were doing was drinking tea, Silas didn’t let her sit down.

"She looks perfectly fine to me," Primrose said, lifting her teacup and glancing at Hazelle again. "Would she throw a tantrum or something if you left her alone?"

Silas chuckled softly. "Oh, nothing like that, Your Majesty. But if she’s away from me too long, she tends to grow anxious. That’s why I hope you’ll understand and allow her to stay here, Your Majesty."

Primrose took a sip of her tea in silence, her eyes still fixed on Hazelle. The only thing that would fill Hazelle’s heart if she were left alone was obviously relief.

The clock was ticking, and Primrose was keeping track of every second Edmund had granted her. If she couldn’t separate Hazelle from Silas, then those precious minutes would be wasted.

She turned her gaze to the soldiers outside. Silas didn’t notice it, but near the greenhouse entrance, there was a small hourglass, placed there specifically to remind her that Edmund wouldn’t give her even a second more than the promised thirty minutes.

With a small sigh, she realized that her usual calm approach wouldn’t work here. She needed to try something else, maybe something bolder.

Within seconds, her expression shifted. The warmth in her gaze faded, replaced by coldness—disgust, even—as she looked directly at Hazelle.

"If I’m being honest," Primrose said as she placed her teacup down with a quiet clink, "I don’t feel comfortable with her here."

Her lips curled into a sneer. "There’s just something about a slave’s presence that makes the air feel ... dirty."

Behind her, she heard Solene quietly gasp, clearly shocked. The sweet and gentle Queen of Noctvaris suddenly sounding so cruel? It was unthinkable.

Even Callen, nearby, seemed to have a full-blown internal panic. [What is going on?! Is this really Her Majesty? No, no, no—she’s never spoken like this before!]

[Is she an impostor?! A spy pretending to be the Queen?!]

[What should I do? Should I drag her out of here and interrogate her until she tells me where she’s hiding the real Primrose?!]

Primrose’s lips twitched slightly. She hadn’t expected Callen’s mind to spiral that far just because she said a few harsh words.

Hadn’t she spoken sternly to Marielle once before? Back when she had a fever and snapped at her by mistake?

Had Marielle never told anyone about that? That alone would’ve been enough to stir palace drama. But now Primrose realized she’d never heard a single rumor about her being rude behind closed doors.

Still, even if she had been slightly cold to Marielle that one time, she had never used cruel words like this before. So maybe ... yes, it was a bit shocking to hear her speak so harshly toward a slave like that.

Primrose wasn’t exactly proud of what she was saying, but if this was the only way to get Silas to lower his guard, then so be it. Even if it left a bad taste in her mouth.

Luckily, Solene and Callen didn’t immediately drag her to the torture chamber and force her to confess where she had supposedly hidden the "real" version of herself.

"A slave?" Silas repeated, acting like he had no idea what she was talking about. "I’m not sure what you mean, Your Majesty. Hazelle is my assistant."

Primrose let out a soft chuckle. "Oh, come now, Dr. Silas. Don’t try to act clueless in front of me. I can tell the difference between a normal worker and a slave. Whether you know it or not, slaves carry a certain smell, something that reminds me of ... a gutter." She scrunched her nose as if she couldn’t stand the thought. "Honestly, it’s disgusting."

The more she spoke, the worse it sounded. It was so wrong on so many levels that Primrose almost wanted to cut her own tongue off right then and there.

"And I don’t know if it’s just in my head, but I feel like bad luck follows every time they touch me," she added, pretending to shudder in disgust. "Just look at me, Dr. Silas. Ever since your slave helped me take a bath, I suddenly lost the ability to walk. Don’t you think that’s your fault? You let that ... filthy girl lay her hands on me."

Ugh. That was officially too much.

Primrose would definitely need to scrub her tongue clean after this, and then give Hazelle a thousand heartfelt apologies.

How could people say such awful things to slaves or to those beneath them so easily? Was there really no guilt in their hearts at all when they said things like that?

"I had no idea you held such hatred toward slaves, Your Majesty," Silas said smoothly, though something about his tone had shifted. His mask was slipping. "But I must admit ... you’re not wrong. Slaves are nothing but pests in this world."

Not long after that, Primrose heard the thoughts that echoed behind his composed expression. [I had no idea this bitch had such a rotten heart.]

[It would be easier to kill someone this vile.]

Seriously?

Rotten? She was the rotten one?

Primrose nearly laughed. The irony was so thick, she could choke on it. Did this man seriously never look in a mirror?

Maybe she should ask one of the guards to bring him a nice big one, so he could take a long, hard look at himself and see he was just as rotten as a worm-infested apple left out in the sun.

"I’m glad you agree," Primrose said coolly, her tone sharp but composed. "Because I was starting to wonder whether you even knew what kind of filth you were keeping by your side."

Hazelle flinched, just barely, but Primrose saw it. Her heart ached a little, but she pushed the guilt aside for now. She had to keep going. This was the only way.

"I should’ve known better," she added, brushing imaginary dust off her sleeve. "Next time, I’ll make sure only proper staff are allowed to touch me."

Silas gave a dry chuckle. "You truly are more refined than I imagined, Your Majesty."

His words were flattering, but his thoughts told a very different story. [This bitch is more manipulative than I expected. I’ll have to be careful.]

[Still, if she hates that girl so much ... maybe I can use that.]

Primrose didn’t react, but she mentally noted every thought. The moment he saw her cruelty toward Hazelle, he assumed she was just like him.

Perfect.

"That’s why," she continued smoothly, her voice calm but dripping with disdain, "I would be very pleased if you didn’t bring this filthy creature to our next tea session." She offered a polite, venom-laced smile. "All of my appetite vanished the moment I saw her face."

Hazelle’s hands clenched at her sides, but she didn’t say a word. Her expression stayed neutral, as if she had been trained to accept humiliation, and knowing Silas, she probably had.

Primrose’s heart stung a little, but she pushed the emotion down. She had to be harsh, at least for now. This act had a purpose, and Hazelle’s temporary hurt was the price of her eventual freedom.

"I see," Silas said, the corner of his lips twitching upward. "In that case, perhaps I should ask her to wait outside for now."

He turned toward Hazelle like she was no more than a shadow in the room. "Hazelle, wait by the door. Do not move unless I call you."

"Yes, Doctor." Hazelle replied while bowing her head, like a perfect obedient slave.

Primrose watched her turn around and slowly walk to the door. The moment Hazelle stepped outside, Primrose finally felt like she could breathe.

She glanced at the hourglass.

Time was running out, but now that Silas had let his guard down, she might just have a real chance at this.

Luckily, Silas was sitting with his back to the greenhouse door, so he didn’t notice when Raven and Salem quietly slipped in, grabbed Hazelle, and led her away without making a sound.

"Good," Primrose said softly, turning her attention back to the doctor. "Now that we can speak a little more privately ... let’s talk about the real reason I invited you here today, Doctor."