Page 9 of Maid For The Dark Elf

CAELRIC

The morning sunlight streams through tall windows of our family's private study, casting geometric patterns across the polished mahogany table where we've gathered. I watch each face as I recount every detail of my meeting with King Grymlock—the massacre of Aethan's escort, the blood-soaked carriage, the complete absence of the lord himself.

"So Aethan simply vanished?" Father leans back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. "No witnesses, no demands for ransom?"

"None that the King mentioned." I spread the sealed documents Grymlock entrusted to me across the table's surface.

Asterion looks up from the historical texts he's been consulting, his eyes bright with interest. "Are there any other disappearances from noble houses?"

"The King wasn't specific, he seemed only interested in Aethan and ensuring his house doesn't crumble from the outside or the inside. It would be… an inconvenience for the Crown to lose a rare trusted noble." I meet each sibling's gaze in turn. "He's tasked me, and by extension the family, with investigating quietly, without alerting whoever orchestrated Aethan's disappearance that we're looking into it."

Emeric's scarred hands clench into fists on the table. "Quiet investigations are all well and good, but if Aethan's been murdered⁠—"

"We don't know that he's dead," Mother interjects gently, though worry lines crease her brow.

"His escort certainly is." Emeric's crimson eyes burn with barely contained fury. "Whoever did this needs to face justice, not political maneuvering."

Aurelia sets down her tea cup with deliberate precision, the porcelain clicking against its saucer. "Justice requires evidence, which we currently lack. Charging blindly forward will only warn our enemies that we're investigating."

"So what do you propose?" I ask, recognizing the calculating expression that crosses her features whenever she's formulating political strategy.

Her violet eyes gleam with sudden inspiration. "A season of grand social gatherings. House Vaerith hasn't hosted major receptions in years—everyone will assume we're simply resuming our traditional role in court society."

Nerina's fork pauses halfway to her mouth, loaded with honeyed fruit. "Oh, wonderful. More opportunities for every bachelor in Vhoig to stare at me like I'm a prize equus at auction."

"Actually, it's brilliant," Aurelia continues, warming to her theme. "We invite everyone who matters—the Great Houses, wealthy merchants, influential courtiers. Those who would gain from Lord Ardyn's disappearance. People reveal more when they're comfortable, when they think they're simply attending elegant parties rather than being interrogated."

"You want to throw parties while Aethan might be dying somewhere?" Asterion's usually gentle voice carries an edge of disapproval.

"I want to gather information without getting ourselves killed or exposed in the process." Aurelia's tone remains perfectly reasonable. "Besides, you know how loose tongues become after a few glasses of good wine. We'll learn more in one evening of carefully orchestrated socializing than weeks of direct questioning."

Nerina groans dramatically, letting her head fall back against her chair. "This is just an excuse for you to indulge your love of elaborate entertaining, isn't it?"

Aurelia shrugs with unrepentant elegance. "Perhaps. But it's also the most effective approach available to us. Call it a win-win situation."

"The girl has a point," Father admits with a smirk. "House Vaerith's social gatherings have always been legendary for their ability to facilitate... candid conversations."

Emeric crosses his massive arms, skepticism written across his battle-scarred features. "And what happens when whoever killed Aethan's guards decides we're getting too close? Pretty dresses and dancing won't stop assassins."

"Which is why you'll be responsible for security," I tell him. "Double the household guard, position watchers at every entrance, ensure our guests feel safe enough to speak freely."

"At least that's something useful." Emeric's expression softens slightly. "Though I still think we should be kicking down doors instead of serving canapés."

Aurelia laughs, the sound musical in the morning air. "Leave the door-kicking to later, dear brother. First, we need to know which doors are worth breaking down."

I study the faces around the table, weighing the merits of Aurelia's proposal against more direct approaches. The political landscape of Vhoig resembles a spider's web—pull the wrong strand, and the entire structure collapses, taking innocent people with it.

"Very well," I decide. "We'll begin with a grand reception next week. Aurelia, you'll handle the guest list and social arrangements. Emeric, security is your priority. Asterion, see what historical precedents you can find for similar disappearances."

"What about me?" Nerina asks with resigned acceptance.

"You'll be our most valuable asset," Aurelia tells her with genuine warmth. "Every unmarried noble in the kingdom will compete for your attention, which means they'll stay longer and drink more than they should."

"Marvelous. I get to be the bait."

"Beautiful, intelligent bait," I correct with a slight smile. "The kind that makes men forget to guard their tongues."

Nerina's lips twitch despite her best efforts to maintain a martyred expression. The golden flecks in her eyes catch the light from the floating chandeliers as she fights the smile threatening to break free.