He was tall, with neatly cut dark hair and a edged jaw, dressed in dark-green formalwear embroidered with gold threading along the cuffs. His smile was easy, charming, but something about him made the small hairs at the back of my neck lift.
“Forgive my intrusion,” he said with a graceful bow. “I couldn’t resist meeting the most talked-about rider in the hall.”
I dipped my head slightly, keeping my posture polite but distant. “You have me at a disadvantage.”
“My name is Maeven,” he said, his voice a smooth drawl. “I’m from Diria.”
Diria. A kingdom with a reputation for its ruthlessness in every sense of the word. Ferrula’s home.
“I have visited Diria,” I said carefully, every instinct telling me to stay wary. “A pleasure to meet you, Lord Maeven.”
He smiled wider, like a cat toying with a mouse. “The pleasure is mine.” His eyes flicked briefly toward the alcove where Zander and Inderia spoke in tight, controlled gestures. “I find you... fascinating, Ashlyn.”
I stiffened, but forced myself to smile. “You’re kind to say so.”
“I only hope you choose the right side when the time comes,” he said lightly, as if discussing nothing more serious than the weather.
Before I could respond, he bowed once more and melted into the crowd, leaving me with more questions. Like which side he was on.
I turned just in time to see Zander and Inderia still locked in a heated debate, their faces tense, voices too low for me to catch.
The crackling tension between them was unmistakable.
I smiled and attempted polite conversation with half a dozen nobles clustered in glittering little groups throughout the hall.
Every time, the result was the same.
A tight smile. A glance over my shoulder like they were searching for someone more important. A quick pivot, turning their backs on me so completely it might as well have been a slap to the face.
I stood there, stiff and aching with the effort of pretending it didn’t hurt, until a familiar hand settled warm and secure against my lower back.
Zander.
Without a word, he guided me through the crowd and out the grand entrance of the castle, the heavy doors closing behind us with aboomthat sounded suspiciously like a mercy.
A sigh of relief escaped my lips before I could stop it.
“I saw you talking to Lord Maeven,” Zander said, his voice low as we crossed the moonlit courtyard.
“He said I intrigued him,” I answered, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “But he also told me to ‘choose the right side when the time came.’”
Zander’s jaw clenched. “He’s rumored to have ties to the Varnari. That sect is giving us as much trouble as the Crimson Sigil.”
“You have your own spy network, don’t you?” I asked, glancing sideways at him.
“It’s Dorian’s more than mine,” he admitted. “But yes, we’re watching certain nobles. Maeven is one of them.”
I frowned, thinking back to the conversation. “I was hoping someone else would approach you tonight,” Zander added, his mouth twisting in frustration. “But I guess the setting was too... open.”
“Probably,” I muttered. “The fact that Lord Maeven did, though, means he feels his position is fairly secure.”
“Surprising for someone from an outer kingdom,” Zander said thoughtfully. “But I agree with you.”
We reached my door far too soon, the familiar heavy wood and iron hinges looming in front of me like a sanctuary.
I turned to him, heart still beating faster than I wanted to admit. “Goodnight,” I said quickly, before anything else could slip free.
I rushed inside, closing the door between us before I could change my mind.
