Show nothing. Reveal nothing. Gather everything.
“The military district first,” Greyson answered, his attention on a tablet he’d brought. “Then the farming dome, security headquarters, and the Entertainment District. You should see what you’re up against before tonight.”
“You mean what I’m being forced to endorse.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her tone.
He looked up from the tablet, those blue eyes bright and unreadable behind his mask. “Yes.” The simple acknowledgment of truth surprised her. No justification, no Heart propaganda. Just recognition of her reality.
She inclined her head. “Practical of you to show your assassin exactly how well defended you are.”
A soft huff escaped him. “Consider it mutually beneficial. You get to satisfy your curiosity, and I get to impress upon you the futility of any thoughts of further assassination attempts.”
“Bold of you to assume that will stop me.”
She swore she saw a smile reach his eyes. “Bold of you to assume you’ll get another chance.”
They lapsed into silence, but it felt different from before—charged with something that didn’t quite feel so hostile.
Shadera turned to look out the window as the car wound through the Heart’s immaculate streets. Everything was pristine—the sidewalks spotless, the buildings gleaming in the early afternoon sun. Even the trees seemed perfectly shaped, not a leaf out of place. It was beautiful in a sterile, controlled way that made her stomach twist with anger.
People walked with unhurried steps, their faces hidden behind masks of varying designs, though none as provocative as hers. They wore clothes all similar to each other—elegant, understated, expensive. From a distance, they looked like figures in a simulation rather than real people. Perfect and empty.
“After tonight’s dinner,” Greyson said suddenly, breaking the silence, “we should discuss what Lira mentioned.”
Shadera turned back to him. “About what to expect?”
He nodded, his gloved fingers tapping a restless rhythm against his knee. “There are aspects of Heart society, of the Vow ceremony you should be prepared for. Things that will be expected of you. Things you’ll see that . . .” He trailed off, jaw working beneath his mask. “Things that will be difficult . . . shocking for someone not raised here.”
Something in his tone made her study him more carefully. The rigid set of his shoulders, the way his hand had curled into a fist on his thigh, the slight increase in his breathing rate. Signs she’d been trained to read in targets before the kill—signs of fear, of distress.
“You don’t want to go to this dinner. You’re worried about it,” she realized aloud.
His head snapped toward her. “What makes you say that?”
“Your body is screaming it.” She gestured to his tense posture. “I’ve been reading people’s fear my entire life. It’s coming off you in waves.”
For a moment, she thought he might deny it, might retreat behind the cold facade he usually maintained. Instead, he exhaled slowly, his shoulders dropping a fraction.
“I don’t,” he admitted, the words so quiet she almost didn’t catch them. “But the consequences of not going aren’t worth it.”
The admission shifted something between them—a crack in the perfect Executioner’s armor, a glimpse of the man beneath the monster. Shadera found herself wondering, not for the first time, who Greyson Serel might have been if he hadn’t been born into this family, if he hadn’t been shaped by the Heart’s poison.
“What happens at these dinners?” she asked, genuine curiosity replacing the tactical assessment she’d been conducting.
Greyson looked away, staring at the city passing outside the window. “Nothing good.”
The car slowed as they approached a checkpoint—the first of many, she guessed, based on the military presence ahead. Guards with pulse rifles stood at attention, their own masks more utilitarian than decorative.
“For now,” Greyson continued, straightening as they pulled to a stop, “remember that you’re no longer just Shadera Kael, a Daggermouth from the Boundary. As far as anyone knows, you’re my fiancée. My chosen partner. Try to act accordingly.”
“You want me to simper and hang on your every word?” she asked, unable to keep the edge from her voice.
He actually chuckled at that, a small quirk of his lips visible at the corners of his eyes. “I’d like to see you try. No, just . . . don’t threaten to kill anyone in public. That should be sufficient.”
Despite herself, Shadera felt an answering smile tug at her lips. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”
A guard approached their window, and Greyson rolled it down with a touch to a panel beside him. The guard’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of Shadera’s mask but recovered quickly.
“Identification, sir?”
