Third-person POV

The hallway slowly emptied after the body was taken away, and what had just happened seemed to dissolve into hurried footsteps as the guards and palace staff scattered back to their duties. Jella had already walked off, her composure perfectly intact as if nothing had shaken her, and the few people who had stayed behind only remained for a moment longer before deciding that whatever had just happened was not something they wanted to be close to.

Electra did not move right away. She stood where she was, her eyes still fixed on the empty space where her father’s body had been minutes ago, her expression unreadable but her posture tense in a way that was hard to miss. The pain in her chest had not gone away. It had dulled slightly, but it was still there, sitting heavy inside her like something unfinished. It didn’t make sense to her, and that was what bothered her the most.

When the last of the guards finally left and the hallway grew even more silent, Electra let out a slow breath before turning her head toward Irina. Her gaze was sharper now, focused, like something had settled in her mind while she stood there.

"My father wasn’t killed by some servant," she said, her voice calm but firm, leaving no room for doubt. "Jella killed him."

Irina blinked slightly at the bluntness of it, but she didn’t look surprised. If anything, her expression shifted into something thoughtful, like she was already turning the idea over in her head. She leaned slightly against the wall, crossing her arms as she considered it.

"I can see that happening," Irina admitted after a moment, her tone steady but cautious. "She hated him, and she definitely wouldn’t have been happy about letting him out of prison after all this time. If anything, this looks like something she would do just to keep control."

She paused briefly before adding, "But the problem is, we can’t prove it. The king is dead, and the servant she blamed it on is also dead. That means there’s no one left to tell us what really happened."

Electra let out a snort at that, the sound loud and almost dismissive as she tilted her head slightly. There was something about Irina’s words that clearly didn’t sit right with her, not because they were wrong, but because they were too limited.

"Didn’t I just say that the dead can talk?" Electra asked, her voice carrying a faint edge of amusement, though her eyes remained serious.

Irina frowned, clearly not following. She uncrossed her arms slightly, looking at Electra like she was trying to make sense of what she had just said. "You’re going to have to explain that," she replied. "Because right now, that sounds like something you’re saying just to sound mysterious."

Electra didn’t react to the comment. Instead, she looked ahead for a moment, her gaze distant as if she were putting pieces together in her head before speaking again. When she did, her voice was calm, but there was a certainty in it that made it clear she wasn’t guessing.

"For starters," she said slowly, "Jella knows I don’t have my memories. That means she’s probably counting on the fact that I won’t care enough about my father to question what happened to him. She thinks I’ll just accept what she said and move on."

She turned her head slightly toward Irina, her eyes narrowing just a little. "And then there’s the funeral."

Irina’s brows furrowed as she listened, her attention fully on Electra now. "What about it?"

Electra’s lips curved faintly, but there was no humor in it. "She’s going to make it big," she said. "Bigger than it should be."

Irina tilted her head slightly, still not fully seeing where this was going. "Wouldn’t that make sense? He was the king."

Electra shook her head once, slowly. "Not anymore," she corrected. "From what I can tell, he wasn’t exactly loved by the public. If anything, his name would only bring up anger and resentment, especially after everything that’s happened with me."

She paused briefly before continuing, her tone growing sharper. "Holding a large funeral for him wouldn’t calm people down. It would do the opposite. It would remind them of everything they already hate, and it would make things worse."

Irina’s expression shifted as the realization started to settle in. Her eyes widened slightly, and she let out a quiet scoff as the pieces clicked together in her mind.

"She’s trying to make it harder for you," Irina said, her voice carrying a mix of disbelief and irritation. "If the public is already against you, and then she reminds them of everything they hate about your father, it’s going to make it even worse. She’s trying to turn them against you even more before you even get the chance to do anything."

Electra snapped her fingers lightly, a small sound that broke through the silence. "Exactly," she said.

There was something almost satisfying in the way she said it, not because she liked the situation, but because she understood it. Understanding meant control, and control was something she refused to lose.

"The problem," Electra continued, her voice lowering slightly, "is that she has no idea what I’m capable of."

Irina looked at her again, her confusion returning, though this time it was mixed with something else, something more cautious. "And what exactly are you capable of?" she asked carefully. 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

Electra didn’t answer right away. Instead, she let the silence sit for a moment, her gaze steady, almost thoughtful, before she finally spoke.

"Let me ask you something," she said. "Do you think I can raise the dead?"

Irina blinked, clearly not expecting that question. She stared at Electra for a second, her expression caught somewhere between confusion and disbelief.

"Are you serious right now?" Irina asked, her tone slightly incredulous. "Is that what you’ve been getting at this whole time?"

Electra shrugged lightly, her expression calm. "You’re partly right," she said.

That did not make Irina feel any better. "What does that even mean?" she asked, her brows pulling together as she tried to understand.

Electra didn’t explain further. Instead, she started walking again, her steps slow but deliberate as she moved down the hallway, her mind clearly already ahead of the conversation.

"A public spectacle is exactly what I need right now," she said as she walked, her voice steady, almost thoughtful. "And Jella is more than willing to give me one."

Irina followed her, still trying to keep up, her confusion not easing in the slightest. "You’re talking about the funeral," she said, more as a statement than a question.

Electra nodded once. "She wants a crowd," she said. "She wants attention. She wants people to remember everything they hate so she can use it against me."

She paused briefly, her lips curving slightly into something that almost resembled a smile, but there was nothing warm about it.

"So I’ll give her exactly what she wants," Electra added.

Irina stopped walking for a second, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watched Electra continue forward. "And what exactly are you planning to do?" she asked, her tone more serious now.

Electra stopped as well, turning slightly so she could look at Irina properly. There was something different in her expression now, something darker, more focused, like she had already made her decision and there was no turning back from it.

"When she calls for that crowd," Electra said slowly, "I’ll be there."

Irina held her gaze, waiting.

"And I’ll make the dead talk."

Irina stared at her for a moment, trying to figure out if she was serious or if this was some kind of metaphor she wasn’t understanding. "Are you planning to kill Jella?" she asked finally, deciding to be direct.

Electra’s expression didn’t change. "There are things much worse than death," she said simply.

Her voice was calm, almost too calm, and that was what made it unsettling. There was no hesitation in her tone, no uncertainty, just a certainty that made it clear she meant every word.

"And that," Electra added, her gaze steady, "is exactly what she’s about to experience for daring to kill my father."

Irina didn’t respond right away. She just stood there, watching Electra, trying to understand just how far she was willing to go, but something told her she was about to find out.