Candlelight reflected on Mariana's face. It was no longer merely a mother's face, but one that revealed her ambition.
Paul felt that she was not begging, but laying plans for the future, plotting a future for herself and her son that surpassed the boundaries of kingdoms and magic.
Paul fell silent for a moment. A trace of coldness appeared at the corners of his mouth before he finally spoke, his voice laced with sarcasm. "And then? After you've finished all your wars, will I be cast aside without a word, just as Giles was? Without even an explanation?"
Mariana's brows furrowed, and a flicker of displeasure crossed her eyes—anger that could even be called offense.
She looked straight at Paul, her tone suddenly turning cold. "You're comparing yourself to Giles?"
Her voice was not loud, but every word struck like a nail. "What kind of person was Giles? An opportunist, a madman with no roots and no support. Between him and the Secret Art Society, there was only mutual benefit and no trust."
She stared into Paul's eyes and said, word by word, "But you're different. You have me, your mother—a witch who has established herself in the Secret Art Society. You also have a younger brother, Nathan. He's a Spellcaster as well, and you share the same blood. Do you think that, in a world that values bloodlines and talent, such ties are dispensable?"
She gave a cold snort. "Who would dare move against you so easily? Who would dare treat you as a tool to be discarded once used? Behind you stands more than an army. There is blood—Spellcaster blood. In the Secret Art Society, that is more unbreakable than any alliance."
Mariana's tone held unquestionable pride. "Do you think I'm merely drawing you an empty promise? No.