"You claimed threats against my mate. That tends to command attention." I don't sit. Neither does she. "Speak."
"Always so direct." She moves away from the window, trailing her fingers along a marble table. "Very well. My sources in the neutral territories indicate that Lady Isla has placed a rather generous bounty on information regarding Lady Seraphina's movements. Her vulnerabilities. Her... routines."
My shadows go very still. "Information, or access?"
"Does the distinction matter? Gold flows toward one, then inevitably toward the other." Lysandra studies her nails as if discussing weather rather than assassination. "Twenty thousand in silver for verified intelligence. Fifty thousand for proof of opportunity."
"Opportunity meaning what, exactly?"
Her smile sharpens. "A window of time when your mate might be... acquired without Shadow Court interference."
The frost that spreads from my feet isn't intentional. It rarely is when rage takes me this quickly.
"And you're sharing this, why?" I ask, my voice dangerously soft. "Out of loyalty to the Shadow Court? Concern for an Omega you've never met?"
"Out of self-interest, naturally." At least she's honest. "If something happens to Lady Seraphina, war becomes inevitable. War disrupts trade. Trade disrupts my income." She tilts her head. "Besides, I find the current political landscape... entertaining. It would be a shame to see it simplified by violence."
I file away every word for later analysis. Lysandra deals in information, which means she also trades in misdirection. But her intelligence networks are the most reliable outside the courts themselves.
"Names," I demand. "Who's feeding Isla this information?"
"That, I'm afraid, would cost considerably more than a simple audience." She moves toward the door, pausing with her hand on the frame. "But I will tell you this for free: whoever is tracking your mate has access to palace movements. Someone close. Someone trusted."
She's gone before I can respond, leaving me with shadows writhing and a cold certainty settling in my chest.
Someone close. Someone trusted.
Lysandra's warnings echo in my mind as I stride toward the forest. A price on Seraphina's head. Threats from the neutral territories. Danger circles closer.
I need to think. Need to clear my head of these distractions.
The familiar path calms me somewhat, though my thoughts remain troublingly fixated on Seraphina. On the way her eyes soften when she thinks I'm not looking. On the mating marks my mouth left on her throat just this morning, and how she didn't try to hide them when she dressed for the day.
My shadows track her movement through the forest, a habit I can't break despite promising her freedom. The sound of rushing water draws me deeper, to the twilight pools Seraphina mentioned wanting to see. The small waterfall cascades down moss-covered stones, its waters gleaming with a peculiar blue-silver light unique to the shadow realm.
And there—standing beneath the cascade—is Seraphina.
She has stripped down to a thin shift that clings to her body, now translucent from the water pouring over her. Her dark hair streams down her back, her face tilted upward into the flow, eyes closed in apparent bliss. The water traces paths down her throat—over my mating mark—between her breasts, highlighting every curve in the twilight glow.
I'm frozen, unable to move or announce my presence, captivated by the sight of her. Something hot and possessive unfurls in my chest at the realization that no one else sees her like this. No one else knows the fierce intelligence behind those golden eyes, the quiet strength in her slender form, the fire she keeps banked but never extinguished.
She must sense my presence, or perhaps my shadows—because her eyes open suddenly, fixing on me through the curtain of water. For a moment, neither of us moves, the air between us charged with something electric and inevitable.
"Malakai," she says finally, my name no longer carrying the venom it once did. She steps out from under the waterfall, water sluicing down her body in rivulets. "I didn't expect to find you here."
"I could say the same." My voice emerges rougher than intended. "The shadow forest isn't safe for those unaccustomed to its dangers. Especially not alone."
She raises an eyebrow. "And yet, here I am. Unharmed and quite capable of defending myself." She takes a step closer, head tilting slightly. "Unless you're offering to protect me?"
The teasing lilt in her voice is new, unexpected—a development from the last few days as the tension between us has shifted from antagonistic to something more complex.
"The Council wants to send you away," I find myself saying. "To the southern palace. For your protection."
Her expression changes, wariness replacing the playful light in her eyes. "And what did you tell them?"
"That anyone suggesting such a thing could join our garden statuary collection."
Her eyes widen slightly. "You refused? Even though it might be safer for me elsewhere?"
