Because I don’t want to.
The thought slides through my mind before I can stop it, and I shove it down with the ruthlessness of long practice.
“This node cluster.” I tap the document, forcing my attention to the work. “The composition is different from the others. Refined. The same signature I identified in the samples from the trade quarter.”
“The Blood Regent’s improving his methodology.” Izan leans closer to examine the pattern I’ve indicated. His shoulder nearly brushes mine. Heat bleeds through the fabric of his sleeve. “Learning from our interference.”
“Or from someone inside your network.” I keep my voice steady despite the flush creeping through me. “Theimprovements started after the council meeting. After I provided my analysis to the war room.”
His attention sharpens. Shifts from the documents to my face with predatory focus.
“You think there’s a leak.”
“I think it’s worth considering.” I meet his gaze without flinching. “You brought me into the heart of your operations. Showed me maps, positions, strategic assessments. If the Blood Regent has someone watching?—”
“Then they would have reported your presence. Your value.” His voice drops lower. “Your location.”
“The assassination attempt.”
“Came three days after you entered the stronghold.” He turns to face me fully, his body angled toward mine, the documents forgotten. “Coincidence is possible. But I don’t believe in coincidence.”
“Neither do I.” My voice has gone quiet to match his. We’re standing close—close enough that I can see the ember-light flickering in the depths of his irises. “Which means someone in your council is feeding information to the Blood Regent. And they know exactly where to find me.”
His hand rises—toward my face, I think, or maybe my shoulder—then stops mid-motion. Clenches into a fist. Drops back to his side.
He leaves. Again. But pauses in the doorway.
“The leak. I’ve already started narrowing it.” His voice drops to something quiet and lethal. “Only seven council members knew the timing of your transfer to the stronghold. I’ll have my answer before this is over.”
And I stand in the cooling air of my chambers and wonder how many times we’ll do this before one of us breaks.
The fourth morningbrings a visitor I don’t expect.
Seravax arrives without announcement, slipping into my chambers while the guards’ attention is elsewhere. He moves with deliberate economy, every gesture precise, looking around with the same cold assessment he brings to battlefield tactics.
“You’re the Enforcer’s weakness.” No preamble. No greeting. He stops in the center of the room, positioned to block the door without appearing to do so. “I wanted to see it for myself.”
“And have you?” I don’t give him the satisfaction of flinching. “Seen what you came for?”
“Partially.” His head tilts, studying me with the detachment of someone examining a particularly interesting insect. “You’re not beautiful enough to explain it. Not powerful enough. Not politically valuable enough to justify the risks he’s taking.”
“And yet.”
“And yet.” A thin smile crosses his sharp features. “The Throne Hall is still talking about what happened.”
“I’m aware.”
“Are you aware of what it means?” He steps closer, lowering his voice despite the empty room. “You’re leverage now. Not because of your bloodline, not because of your magic—because of him. Anyone who wants to hurt Izan Sulien knows exactly how to do it. They take you. They threaten you. They put a knife to your throat and watch the Enforcer of the Cinder Flight burn himself to ash trying to save you.”
The words land with clinical precision, cutting through defenses I didn’t know I’d lowered.
“Why are you telling me this?” My voice stays steady through sheer force of will. “What do you want?”
“I want you to understand your position.” He straightens, adjusting the fall of his sleeve with fastidious care. “You’re either incredibly dangerous or incredibly stupid, and I’m trying to determine which.”
“Both.” I borrow Izan’s answer from this morning. “I’m both.”
Seravax studies me for a long moment. Whatever he sees makes that thin smile return—colder this time, edged with what might be respect.
