Thecrixis, a short, curved blade with a secondary grip at its base, was perfect for close combat, allowing its wielder to twist and disarm with one fluid motion. Then there were thevorr spikes, slender spears with barbed edges that hooked into flesh, tearing muscle when pulled free.
Weapons designed not just to kill but to break.
To make sure the enemy never got back up.
Elara’s gaze flicked to Rolfe’s arsenal, noting the unmistakable gleam of acrixishanging at his side, the spikes strapped across his back. He wasn’t just any guard. He was Bravellian—a survivor, a fighter forged in a kingdom that had been left in ruins but refused to die.
A spark ignited in her chest, her pulse thrumming with new purpose.
She could use this.Hecould be useful.
Chapter 27
“Your blade… it’s not like the ones the other guards carry.”
Elara kept her expression neutral, watching as Rolfe hesitated just long enough to make her wonder if she’d overstepped. But then he pushed open the heavy door to the Pit, casting a glance back at her.
“A Bravellian forge doesn’t craft for looks,” he said with a faint smirk. “We make what lasts, not what pleases the eye.”
Elara let out a slow breath, relieved. He wasn’t bothered by the question.Good. She decided to push her luck a little further. “It’s not just anyone who could handle a weapon like that… must take a certain kind of skill.”
Rolfe’s face flushed at the comment, his gaze darting away as he stumbled slightly on the spiraling stairs. “It’s served me well enough.”
Elara watched him descend, a flicker of guilt stirring over what she was about to do.Almost. A small smile tugged at her lips as she timed her steps, deliberately catching the hem of her gown beneath her heel. The fabric snagged, and with a soft, calculated yelp, she pitched forward, hands flying out as she stumbled.
Rolfe’s arms shot out, catching her before she fell.
“Are you all right, miss?” His concern sounded genuine as he steadied her and helped her upright. Wine lingered on his breath, mixed with the clean salt of sweat and the solid warmth of his body. Elara leaned in just a fraction, letting the closeness linger.
“Fine,” she murmured, looking up at him from beneath her lashes. “Though I think I might’ve twisted my ankle.”
“Shit” He eased her down onto a nearby step, already crouching to inspect her. “Let me take a look.”
Elara hid her smile.Gods, this was almost too easy.
His brow knit together. “It looks fine to me,” he murmured, eyes flicking over her skin, “but I’m no healer.” When he looked up, the haze of wine seemed to clear slightly from his hazel eyes. “We should get you checked out, just to be safe.”
Elara gave a small nod, keeping her expression soft, innocent, letting him take her weight as he lifted her to her feet, her arm sliding around his shoulders for support.
“Is this all right?”
Guilt flickered in Elara’s chest. He was young, earnest—perhaps the only genuine kindness she’d found in this wretched place. She pushed the thought aside. She couldn’t afford it.Focus.
She dipped her head and let him guide her down the remaining steps and into the narrow corridor leading deeper into the Pit.
A cold sweat prickled her skin. The silence here felt wrong—too heavy. Her gaze slid to the guards lining the passage, expecting their usual rigid stares. Instead, one swayed on his feet, gripping his spear like a lifeline. Another lay slumped on the stone, his helmet rolling away with a soft clatter.
Elara’s eyes widened as they passed another, his steps unsteady, mouth slack, and it finally clicked.Drunk. Every last one of them. Her pulse spiked.How? How could the wardenallow such negligence? Was this normal? Did they all just lose themselves like this every time there was a grand event? The entire castle, drunk and stumbling, armor half-falling off. It was absurd—dangerous. Sure, it worked to her advantage, but still... the sheer recklessness of it.
She swallowed her disbelief, forcing herself to stay focused. If ever there was a moment, this was it—the opportunity she had long been waiting for to gather more information. She couldn’t afford to waste it. Manipulating Rolfe was a necessary evil, and she repeated that to herself, again and again, until the words began to feel like truth. Until the knot in her chest began to loosen.
Five times, she told herself—this is survival.Five times, until she believed it.
It didn't help that with every step closer to the heart of the tunnels, Elara felt Rolfe grow tense, his body stiffening beneath her touch.
“Have you never been down here before?”
Rolfe froze, glancing around before scratching the back of his neck. “I—haven’t, no. I was quite surprised when the Lord Sovereign tasked me with bringing you here. I’ve heard of the place, of course, but…”
