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In the east wing, where the corridors were quieter and the torches burned dimmer. The dim light from crimson-tinted lanterns reflected off her scales, highlighting the curve of her hips, the sharp glint in her eyes.
"You're late," she said, her voice smooth but sharp, like silk stretched over steel.
"I don't run on your schedule," he replied, stepping closer, feeling the heat from her presence before he even saw it. His fingers itched to grip something—anything—but he held himself in check.
Velia's smirk widened, dangerous and deliberate. "You always were so disciplined… until you weren't." Her gaze drifted over his frame, assessing, teasing, claiming. "But then again, discipline isn't sexy, is it?"
Gavriel's jaw tightened. He hated the pull she had over him, yet he hated even more showing weakness. "I didn't come here to play games."
"Are you sure?" Her fingers trailed lightly over a nearby table, the movement suggestive, testing his patience. "Because I'm getting the sense you enjoy them… when you lose control."
He took a measured step forward. The air between them thickened. Her scent—rich, intoxicating—invaded his senses, stirring something primal he'd sworn to suppress. "I don't lose control. I decide when to act."
Velia tilted her head, letting a strand of hair fall over her shoulder. "Do you? Or are you lying to yourself? You think you're in command, Gavriel… but your body betrays you."
The tension was unbearable. His chest tightened as he closed the remaining distance between them. She was a living challenge, a fire he both feared and wanted to touch. His hand brushed hers as if accidentally… yet it was deliberate, enough to let her feel his presence, enough to let her know he could strike—or stay.
Her eyes darkened, predatory. "Careful, soldier. You tread close to lines you won't like crossing."
"I've crossed lines you don't even know exist," he murmured, voice low and edged with warning. "I don't lose control, Velia… I channel it."
Their breaths mingled in the narrow space, each word a spark, each movement a dare. Velia tilted her head, amused and testing him further. "Channel it then, if you can. Or is it easier to pretend you're still in charge?"
Gavriel's fist tightened at his side, his pulse hammering. The sharp heat of desire and tension coiled tight in his chest. He wasn't here to surrender, but he wasn't leaving without marking her presence either. "You forget yourself. This isn't a game of teasing—this is… business."
She laughed softly, and the sound dripped like poison over him. "All business? Nothing personal, Gavriel? You've fooled yourself if you think I don't know how you feel."
He could no longer ignore the pull, the magnetic weight of her gaze. He leaned in, close enough to feel her warmth, close enough that every careful restraint he'd held threatened to snap. "And what if I do?"
Velia's smirk widened into something sharper, dangerous. "Then you'll find it's not so easy to separate the personal from the plan. One slip… and everything burns."
The air between them vibrated, charged with anticipation. Gavriel's pulse quickened, and he realized, with a flush he didn't allow himself to name, that his body had betrayed him before his mind could even reason. Velia saw it. He knew she saw it.
"Do you always play this close to the edge?" he asked, voice rough, controlled yet tight with suppressed heat.
"Only when the edge calls to me," she whispered, stepping back slightly, letting him chase, letting him ache for a breach she would not grant. "You'll find you can't win here, Gavriel. Not fully. Not with me."
He ground his teeth, caught between desire and discipline, between the mission and the pull of something carnal he couldn't name. Every fiber of him screamed for control, for dominance… yet every part of her mocked it, teased it, broke it.
Velia's hand flicked toward a map on the table, pointing casually as if nothing had shifted, yet every gesture dripped intent. "Focus, Gavriel. Or do you want to let your distraction ruin everything?"
Gavriel's lips pressed into a thin line. Desire, frustration, and calculation warred inside him. He let a single hand trail over the table, near hers, just enough to brush her fingers, just enough to feel the friction spark. "I am focused. But don't mistake my control for indifference. You—" he swallowed, eyes locking on hers, "you've always had a way of making it… difficult."
Velia's laugh was low, almost throaty, as if she relished that confession without him having fully voiced it. "Good," she said softly. "Because if it were easy… it wouldn't be worth it."
The tension lingered, thick and dangerous. Gavriel stepped back, finally regaining the discipline that nearly abandoned him. His mind spun with the mission, with the danger, but the heat in the room lingered like a shadow, unshakable.
"You're certain the Queen suspects you?" she suddenly asked, her tone smooth but edged with irritation. She had received a message from him sent by a guard saying the Queen suspected him.
"She's been circling me like a hawk," Gavriel replied, his voice low. "Dropping hints, testing me. I can see it in her eyes — she knows something's wrong, but she doesn't have proof."
Velia's lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. "Good. Let her waste her energy. The closer she watches you, the less she sees of me."
"She's clever," Gavriel warned. "Too clever for a human. If she starts putting pieces together—"
"She won't." Velia rose, her gown whispering over the rug. She stepped into his space, one slender hand brushing over his jaw. "Because you'll keep her busy. Distract her. And when the time comes, we'll finish what we've started."
Gavriel's expression softened under her touch. "And the plan?"
Velia's voice dropped to a whisper. "Hades' reign ends before the next harvest. The Citadel will be ours."
They shared a slow, almost predatory smile before Gavriel crossed to the window. With an easy grace that no human soldier could manage, he vaulted onto the ledge and dropped silently to the ground below, vanishing into the shadows like smoke.
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The next morning, Miriam came bustling into Hazel's chambers with a tray of tea — but she looked distracted, her eyes darting toward the windows before settling on Hazel.
"You're not going to believe what I saw last night," she blurted before Hazel could even greet her.
Hazel frowned, setting aside her journal. "What happened?"
"I was returning from the kitchens, near the east wing… and I swear, Your Highness, I saw General Gavriel jumping out of Velia's window. Not just climbing down — jumping. Like a demon would."
Hazel blinked. "Velia's chambers?"
"Yes," Miriam said, leaning closer. "And it wasn't some casual visit. The way he moved, the way he looked around before he landed… it felt secret. Wrong."
Hazel sat back in her chair, her mind churning. Gavriel and Velia. She hadn't considered a link between them. It didn't fit with what she'd been suspecting — or maybe it fit too well.
All through the day, her thoughts kept circling back to that image Miriam had painted. Gavriel's loyalty to Velia? It would explain his cold defiance in council meetings, his eagerness to crush Nyxmoor instead of negotiate. And Velia… Velia had her own ambitions, her own resentment at being replaced as Hades' favorite.
Hazel couldn't yet see the full picture, but one thing was certain:
Whatever bound those two together wasn't harmless.
And if they were working against Hades…
…she was going to find out.