Elyssara melts into my arms.
But two shadows are missing.
Mavyrn. Seren.
A muscle ticks in my jaw. Elyssara tilts her head, frowning up at me, but I only press her hand tighter against my chest, anchoring her as my eyes rake the hall again—and holding onto the way she yields to me.
“Each time I think I’ve figured that old woman out,” I murmur under my breath, “she contradicts me. Beyond her own agendas… where her allegiances lie, I have no fucking idea.”
Elyssara stiffens slightly, following my gaze, realization dawning. “I don’t trust her,” she snarls, vulnerability protected behind the fortress of her fury in a heartbeat.
“I’ve fought men, beasts, kings. But that woman? I can’t read her. And that terrifies me,” I admit, shaking my head in confusion.
I force my expression back into the practiced mask of a king as another noble bows low before us, offering a toast to our health. But inside, the war drums are already beating.
I pull Elyssara in close, brushing her hair from her ear, and whisper, “Do not show any signs of concern. Smile politely. I’ll lead you from the floor, we’ll raise a glass with our friends, and make it look like we’re retiring for the evening.” She adorns her face with a playful smile, as if I’m whispering sweet nothings. “Whatever is happening, I don’t like it.”
Elyssara giggles theatrically, and as the music ends on a sharp, buoyant note, she nods graciously, hooking her arm under mine.
Ronyn, even through his haze of drink and women, notices the shift in the air. “My balls need a reprieve,” he announces to the flock of women surrounding him, and without waiting for a reply, loops his arm around Rubi’s shoulder and pulls her toward us.
We approach the others, expressions tight despite the mask I try to keep in place. Teddy’s eyes flare wide at my tension, instantly recognizing something is amiss. He drags his gaze across the room, jolted out of celebration, and honed into a sharpened blade. “Seren,” he snaps, bronze eyes watchful and vigilant.
“And Mavyrn,” I add, lips pressed into a thin line, and despite our act, our breaths still.
“Ilyra’s doing?” Jax snaps, though she says it curiously, lifting a goblet to her lips in feigned celebration. “It’s the perfectcover to stage something like this—a banquet, festivities, the noise. But what would she want with a witch and an old bat?”
“Witches were thought extinct,” Teddy muses tightly, chest rising and falling too fast to be natural. “Nymeris favors knowledge and information above all. She could be using Seren for research.” His brows pinch together, hating the words that escape his lips.
But I know better. Nymeris are covert, but they don’t stab their allies in their backs—they value the truth, integrity, honor, far too much for an act like this. I take a deep pull from my glass, sucking the amber liquor down my throat until it burns.
“Mavyrn,” I growl. “It’s Mavyrn.”
“Regardless, I’d like it to be known,” Ronyn declares, voice low but clear, “that I’m leaving a flock of women in heat to hunt down an old bat and my baby sister. I expect recompense. Preferably in the form of another god metal weapon.”
Teddy snorts, though his tension doesn’t leave. Rubi smacks him on the back of the head. Elyssara hides her laugh behind her hand, but her eyes are tight.
“Announce our retirement for the evening,” I command. “And I don’t care what it takes—fucking find them.”
Teddy does as I bid, and we take our leave for the evening. Queen Ilyra, ever the gracious host, neither resists nor distracts. She simply bids us goodnight and returns to the festivities and cheer.
I knew it was Mavyrn before, but now it’s fucking undeniable.
A sliver of moonlight cuts through heavy drapes, and the golden glow of candlelight casts long shadows across the pale limestonewalls as we exit the banquet hall and spill into the castle’s halls. No guards are on duty—Nymerian halls haven’t known violence in centuries. They’ve played a safe game. A clever game of protection and preservation, all while fuelling their own agendas with secret knowledge, hidden missives, and covert missions. They offer just enough support to the other continents to stay out of their cross-hairs, but not enough to truly tip the scales of the realms.
Teddy bounds ahead, desperation palpable. “She’s near,” he grits out between clenched teeth, Aetherstride senses humming on the air. “The old woman, too.”
I nod tightly. “Move quietly. Weapons drawn. If it comes to it, eliminate the Arcanist,” I command with venom, and no one questions my orders.
We split off, stalking the Nymerian halls like we haven’t just allied with them.
Elyssara unsheathes the Starforged Blade from her thigh—the split in her dress revealing her long, honed legs and my mouth goes fucking dry and my eyes linger a beat too long.
“Focus, Your Highness,” she teases wryly, palming the blade like a trained assassin going in for the kill.
“You’re fucking extraordinary,” I breathe, as the moonlight glints off her thigh, catching the curved silhouette of her hips. I want to go to her, undeniably pulled in by her—like her body alone could command armies. The mind of a queen, the heart of a warrior, and the body of a godsdamned seductress.
She bites her lip, a coy smile breaking out across her face, but she crouches low, eyes trained on the long hallway of shadows and secrets.
