"Your presence tastes of fear…" Eira said, eying Theo as he stepped into her room in the tavern. "…and uncertainty."
She couldn't help but smile as he stood before her, shirtless and wearing nothing but his trousers, refusing to meet her eyes.
He closed the door behind him, subtly flexing his defined muscles—a man that should have caught her eye.
Perhaps that was why he stuck around, unable to understand why she could not want a man like him.
His state was proof he had seen or learned something that could finally be of use to her.
"I don't think Fen should be trusted," he finally said, lifting his face.
The faint lights caught his brown eyes as he narrowed them on her.
And Eira basked silently in the way they darkened over her nearly naked body, save for the transparent, shimmering scarf draped around her.
Then his gaze dropped to the pointed tips of her chest.
"Whoever said I trust him in the first place?" she asked, slowly lifting one leg to rest against the other's calf.
His eyes immediately shifted to her hips.
"He's dealing with something really sinister," Theo replied. "Something that might be beyond what we know."
"What do we really know?" she asked again, shifting her gaze from him to her thoughts.
How far she was willing to go because of her jealousy and obsession.
But she had already misstepped and couldn't turn back, not with how much Fen knew.
He was too dangerous to be left unchecked.
Just in case.
"There's something in the garden Fen and the mage is working with," he said. "I felt it and heard them speaking of a demon ritual—something related to the requirements to summon one properly. The demon may reside in that garden because their conversation hinted it."
Eira scoffed, rolling her eyes.
Fen and his schemes of measuring up to Azael just seemed to be getting more unhinged by the moment.
She wished she hadn't allied with him in the first place. If only she didn't risk being exposed to Azael.
"Not even a demon can elevate a dog's status," she said, dragging the slipping scarf higher over her pale form—just above her hips.
Theo swallowed, his gaze lingering on the barely concealed curve of her thighs.
"That sorcerer spells danger," he continued. "It is the reason why Azael seeks to end him."
Eira's grip tightened on the scarf at the mention of Azael.
He would never be the one standing before her, like Theo was.
His touch was absolute, like his power. She missed him so much.
"Mistress," Theo's voice pulled her back.
She blinked—finding him already inches from her face, kneeling.
His woody scent filled her space, and she leaned back slightly.
"Don't ever do that again," she said, frowning as she looked away.
She had been too lost in thoughts of Azael to have noticed his approach.
"I'm sorry," he said, lowering his gaze. "But I care too much to watch you go down this lane with Fen. Perhaps come clean to Azael and forget all this."
Eira's gaze snapped back, anger rising fast.
"How dare you?" she snapped. "Do you think of yourself so highly that I'd actually take your cowardly advice to heart?"
Theo leaned back slightly. "I'm only—"
"And when did I say I was with Fen and his madness?" she cut in sharply, exhaling as she turned upward, one knee raised, both hands near her head.
Her scarf slipped and the cool air brushed her nipples.
The memory of Azael's mouth on her returned—of him taking her against the castle wall— as her eyes traced the ceiling's colourful light ropes.
"I have to get into Fen's territory," she said, calmer now. "I have to speak to the sorcerer."
"As long as I can make it possible," Theo whispered, his breath against her chest sending a shiver through her.
His warm palm slid from her raised knee to her bare hip beneath the edge of her scarf.
"Mistress," he whispered again, and Eira closed her eyes as his mouth met her aching tip.
**
Elana's arms tightened around her knees where she sat on the stripped bed.
She had soaked the sheets in the tub with powdered soap.
Her robe as well.
She blushed, rehearsing the lie in her mind—hoping it would sound convincing enough for the first woman who entered her room this morning.
For the first time, she hoped it was Vivianne.
Cara might suspect something—having already walked in on them before.
She inhaled, clutching her nightdress.
Azael had left her alone with the consequences of his ego.
He was such a shameless man.
Wanting to take her a second time if she hadn't begged him to stop because of her soreness.
His thrusts were deliberate—meant to strip control from her voice.
The way he held her hips still while claiming her from behind.
She had grown sore more quickly in such an embarrassing position—yet it still felt good.
Elana buried her head into her knees.
She was as shameless as he was.
A knock came.
She lifted her head instantly.
"Who's there?" she asked.
"Good morning, Miss Elana," a female voice answered.
Not Vivianne or Cara.
"Here to represent Lady Vivianne for the morning," the voice added.
This was much better; now, everything would remain unnoticed.
Elana exhaled.
"Come in," she said.
The door opened and footsteps entered.
"Dear lord!" the voice said as it neared, "Didn't the laundry maid replace the bed covers?"
Before Elana could speak—
"I'm not certain Miss Prisca," another voice replied.
"Actually," Elana said quickly, trying her best to sound convincing in the moment. "I took the sheets off myself. I felt uncomfortable little bites and soaked them in the tub instead."
"My apologies, Miss Elana," Prisca said. "Tiya, go bring a laundry maid to fix this instantly."
"Yes, Miss Prisca," the second voice replied.
Footsteps withdrew, and the door closed.
**
"Don't run too far, Cara." General James yelled.
A younger Cara sprinted across the forest with her fellow soldiers, men in Lumere's military trousers, most shirtless except for a few, including Cara, in a plain white shirt—jogging under the early grey morning sky.
Her stamina was natural, agile among the many men around her, but here she was young.
"Whoo!" She shouted. "I found the last flag!"
She bent to retrieve it from the clearest patch of sand and grass where it had been planted, excitement still bright in her chest.
She cherished dreams like this.
A smile touched her lips in her sleep.
She pulled at the flag.
It was stuck deeper than she had expected, so she pulled harder.
"Cara!" General James' voice called from the distance.
"Coming, General," she yelled back, determined to pull it free.
Then the flag cloth caught her hand….
…and pulled back.
Cara panicked.
Her features tightened in her sleep as her eyelids trembled.
She strained harder, now trying to free herself from the flag's tightening grip.
"General!" she yelled. "General!"
No reply.
Everywhere had gone eerily quiet, and her nostalgia quickly twisted into horror as she looked at the still trees and bushes around her.
Then she felt it—something crawling up her wrist.
Goosebumps spread across her skin as she realized the flag had become vines.
Thick. Green. And moving.
Cara jolted awake at a knock on the door.
She sat up, relieved by the interruption.
Morning had already advanced, judging by the sharp shadow of the castle wall falling across the wall outside her window.
The knock came again.
Cara yawned and stretched.
"Good morning," Vivianne's voice came from the other side.
What did she want?
Cara groaned internally and rolled her eyes as she got up, still in a grey cotton nightdress.
She approached the door, unlocked it, then simply stepped away without bothering to open it, returning to sit at the edge of the bed.
The door opened just as she settled.
"Good morning once again, General," Vivianne greeted as she closed the door behind her.
"This will be the second time I'll be reminding you I'm now retired," Cara replied, her gaze shifting away from Vivianne, who was in her usual choice of wine-colored dresses.
"I won't lose my respect, still," Vivianne answered.
Cara almost sighed aloud.
She couldn't stand Vivianne's classism, which, to her, was simply another form of pretense.
"Is there something you need?" Cara asked instead, turning to her with a small, polite smile.
"Not exactly," Vivianne began. "But I'm aware there's a possibility that a great war might be hanging over our heads because of Elana's existence. I've confirmed important information that we could use against the enemy as leverage."
Cara's smile shifted into subtle confusion.
"I'm not sure what you mean."
"I strongly believe she's in a shameful agreement with the monster threatening our kingdom," Vivianne continued. "It's expected that a slave would become desperate for attention in any form, let alone a blind slave."
Cara tilted her head, her eyes never leaving Vivianne. "And you judge her…why?"
"My own two ears heard them last night," Vivianne reported with an annoyed frown. "How disgracefully she gave herself to him, not even bothering to keep her voice down."
"The leverage is gossip?" Cara raised a brow.
"My apologies for drifting from the topic," Vivianne said quickly, returning to her carefully practiced smile. "The blind slave would be better used as bait for the monster than treated as someone we should prioritize."
Cara wasn't sure she hid the irritation in her face as her gaze remained on Vivianne, whose hypocritical smile stayed perfectly intact.
"That's a human being you're referring to," Cara said. "To you, she is worthless because she's blind…and a slave?"
"My apologies again if my words come across too bluntly," Vivianne replied. "But it is very degrading of my status as a royal lady-in-waiting to be reduced to caring for…"
"And with the way you speak so carelessly," Cara cut in, "you might be the reason Lumere meets its doom."
"I've said nothing that a person who wishes to survive wouldn't say," Vivianne replied, her smug smile gone as she lifted her chin higher.
"Then carry out those plans yourself," Cara answered. "Only then will we find out what your next step is after baiting the monster."
Vivianne swallowed, trying to hide the hesitation that briefly flickered across her face.
Vivianne cleared her throat.
"Perhaps I was mistaken…" she began.
"However," Cara continued, "the hatred in your heart for the girl the king assigned you to care for is concerning."
She paused.
"You are beginning to pose as one of the risks we can't afford."
"It really isn't like that," Vivianne said quickly, lowering both her chin and gaze. "I was only…I'm sorry. I should have minded my own business."
"I'll have to observe your actions before I believe your apology," Cara replied, finally shifting her focus away.
An involuntary yawn escaped her.
"I need to begin my morning, will that be all?"
"Nothing else," Vivianne answered.
Moments later, the door closed behind her.
Cara fell back onto the soft cotton sheets, giving herself one last moment before she would force herself into the bathroom.
Her eyes remained open, tracing the elegant emerald patterns embroidered into the canopy above her bed.
A smile of amusement tugged at her lips.
Elana was, after all…
important to Azael in that way too.