The carriage rolled to a stop outside Lord Herman's sprawling mansion. Starlight glittered overhead, cold and indifferent to the storm brewing below. Laughter and music spilled from the open doors, nobles chattering like crows over fresh meat.
Dorian stepped down first, adjusting his coat with practiced ease. He offered his hand. Hazel took it only long enough to descend, then pulled away with a curt nod.
Whispers rippled through the crowd the second they appeared.
"Isn't that Sir Dorian? Surprising he brought a lady…"
"She must be the one everyone's talking about in the city. Gods, she's beautiful."
Hazel's left hand clenched at her side. She hated this — the eyes crawling over her like fingers, the way they stripped her down to nothing but a pretty face. She wasn't some trophy to be worshipped. She was a weapon. And tonight the weapon had a job.
"Are you alright, Lady Hazel?" Dorian asked quietly.
"I'm fine."
Her gaze swept the glittering hall until it locked on her target. Lord Herman. Grey-haired, smiling, surrounded by guards who radiated quiet power. Two more flanked him up ahead. She had already counted four at the outer gate. And she could feel other eyes on her — hidden watchers mixed among the nobles.
Too many.
"Oh, Dorian, my friend!" Lord Herman's voice cut through the noise.
Dorian bowed smoothly. "Greetings, my Lord. Happy 75th birthday. May your days ahead be blissful and filled with the pleasures of youth."
"No need for such formalities." The Lord clapped a heavy hand on Dorian's shoulder, eyes sliding past him to Hazel. He lowered his voice. "You brought someone… interesting."
Dorian chuckled. "Not for me, my Lord. I thought you might enjoy such beautiful company tonight."
"Ha ha! Well done." Lord Herman laughed, already stepping closer to Hazel. She forced a sweet smile as he approached.
"So beautiful," he murmured, lifting her chin with two fingers, searching her face like she was a prize horse. "What's your name, dear?"
"Daine."
"Have a dance with me, little Daine."
Before she could answer he tugged her toward the floor. The crowd parted instantly, used to their lord's lecherous habits. Dorian flashed her a quick thumbs-up behind the Lord's back — first stage complete — then melted into the nobles to create distractions.
"How did that boy discover such a gem like you?" Lord Herman asked, his hand sliding down to rest possessively at her waist.
Hazel fought the urge to flinch. His touch felt like oil on her skin. "He bought me from an auction house, my Lord. I… I don't have parents."
Crystal tears welled in her eyes on command. Perfect.
"Oh, don't waste such beautiful tears." He pulled her closer. "I'm the Lord here, you know. I have this grand mansion, a very comfortable bedroom, and the finest food. You could stay with me."
"Would that be alright, my Lord?" She looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. "I wouldn't want to leech off you."
"It's perfectly fine," he purred, eyes raking over her body, "as long as I can eat this."
Hazel blinked, playing dumb. "Eat? I'm confused, my Lord."
He laughed, low and hungry. Such an easy, beautiful prey tonight. Dorian really deserved a reward.
"Let's go to my private room," he said, already tugging her toward the stairs. "I have food that will suit your taste perfectly."
Hazel let him lead her. The moment they left the main hall, a chill crawled down her spine. That aura — familiar, violet, electric. She whipped her head around.
Nothing.
Was she hallucinating now? Damn dreams.
She caught Dorian's eye across the room and gave the signal. He nodded once.
Lord Herman led her down a quiet corridor to the only room in this wing. The two guards outside stopped a respectful distance from the door, giving them privacy. Hazel's stomach twisted.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
The door clicked shut behind them.
She waited, forcing herself to stay calm while the old man strolled to the couch and sat. His entire presence had shifted. The lecherous fool was gone. In its place was something colder. Sharper.
"I'm impressed," he said, crossing his legs and sipping from a teacup. "Your little plan was clever. But sadly… I'm not such an easy prey."
Shit. Simon. The others.
"I guess this feels confusing," he continued with a lazy smile. "Let me give you a hint."
He set the cup down.
"Oh, Hazel. The Flame General. The princess in name only." His eyes glittered.
"Did you really think His Royal Majesty would let you kill me? An important piece in this kingdom?"
The words slammed into her like a blade. The king's lingering stares. His recent "affection." The way he had sent her here without hesitation. She was his daughter too — or so she had believed. She had won wars for him. Spilled blood for him.
Her twin daggers materialized in her hands before she could stop them.
"There she is." The Lord laughed. "I've been wanting to meet you. Not just for the king… but for tampering with Lord Bael's plans."
Alarm bells screamed in her head. He knew. He wasn't normal.
"No more hiding, then."
He stood.
His face rippled. The grey-haired lecher vanished. In his place rose a beautiful man with pitch-black eyes and crimson horns curling back from his temples. A blood-red blade formed in his grip, dripping with dark energy.
"Don't disappoint me, Flame Princess."
Hazel's lips curled into a feral smile even as ice flooded her veins.
Shit.