The afternoon sun hung low over the western hills like a bloodied coin when Baron Harlan Voss returned from his so-called hunt.
I stood on the battlements with Steward Gorm, watching the column of riders wind up the muddy road. Two dozen knights, horses lathered, banners snapping in the chill wind. At the head rode the baron, red-faced and laughing, with Lira perched sideways on the saddle in front of him like a trophy. Her high, girlish laughter drifted up the slope—deliberately loud enough for the servants gathered at the gate to hear.
"Looks like the hunt was successful," Gorm muttered, spitting over the wall. "Though I doubt they brought back anything with four legs."
I kept my face neutral, but my grip tightened on the stone parapet. "Let them in. Then gather the household in the great hall. The baron will want to make a show of it."
By the time I reached the hall, the entire keep had assembled. Servants lined the walls. Knights stood at attention. Lady Elara was already seated at the high table—back straight, expression serene, the perfect mask of noble dignity. She wore the same burgundy gown from the solar, but she had added a heavy silver circlet and a fur-lined mantle that hid the flush I knew still lingered on her neck from our morning encounter.
Our eyes met across the hall for half a second. Nothing overt. Just a flicker—hers cool and calculating, mine burning with the memory of how her thighs had trembled against my hand only hours ago. Then she looked away.
The doors crashed open.
Harlan strode in, boots muddy, cloak thrown back to show the fine new doublet Lira had clearly chosen for him. The girl clung to his arm, cheeks pink, gown rumpled. She looked like a child playing dress-up in stolen finery.
"Wife!" Harlan boomed, voice echoing off the rafters. "See what the hunt yielded?" He jerked his thumb at Lira. "Finest doe in the capital. Soft, eager, and knows how to please a man properly."
A ripple of discomfort moved through the servants. A few knights stared at their boots.
Elara rose slowly, voice smooth as oiled steel. "Welcome back, my lord. I trust the forests were kind. Shall I have the cooks prepare a feast to celebrate your… success?"
Harlan laughed, loud and ugly. "Feast? Aye, why not. And have the east chamber aired again—Lira will be sharing my bed tonight. And tomorrow. And every night until I tire of her." He yanked the girl closer and kissed her sloppily in front of everyone. "Unlike some cold, dried-up old mares, this one still knows how to ride."
The humiliation landed like a whip. I saw Elara's fingers tighten on the table until her knuckles whitened, but her face never changed. Not a tear. Not a flinch.
I stepped forward before anyone else could speak.
"Father," I said, voice steady and respectful, "while you were away, Steward Gorm and I reviewed the border reports. House Blackthorn's patrols have grown bolder. I ordered the smiths to prepare caltrops—simple iron spikes for the ford. A training exercise, nothing more. It should deter any unauthorized crossings."
Harlan blinked, surprised I had spoken at all. "Caltrops? Since when do you play at strategy, boy?"
I shrugged lightly. "The fever cleared my head, Father. I thought only of protecting our lands while you were… occupied."
A few older knights nodded in approval. Gorm gave me a subtle look of respect.
Harlan waved a dismissive hand. "Do what you like with your toys. Just make sure the king's taxes are paid." He turned back to Elara, smirking. "Speaking of the king… a courier brought a royal decree this morning. The crown demands two hundred levied men from every barony by the next full moon. Or we forfeit the eastern manors."
The hall went deathly quiet.
Two hundred men. Voss Keep could barely raise eighty without stripping the fields bare. The eastern manors were our richest holdings.
Elara's voice was ice. "Two hundred? The crown knows we cannot spare that many without starving come winter."
Harlan shrugged, already reaching for a goblet. "Then we lose the manors. Or I'll sell what we can and take the coin to court. Lira's father has connections—perhaps he can help us negotiate." He pulled the girl onto his lap right there at the high table, hand sliding possessively up her thigh. "You see, wife? Some women are useful. Others… are simply decorative."
Rage coiled tight in my chest. Every word was another nail in the coffin I was building for him.
"Father, if I may," I said calmly, "there are ways to meet the quota without emptying the fields. Rotate the levies in shifts. Use the new drainage trenches to double the south fields' yield. More grain means coin to hire mercenaries for the rest. It would cost less than losing the manors."
Harlan stared at me as if I had grown a second head. "You? Suggesting tactics? Since when do you play at being a lordling?"
I smiled modestly. "Since I realized House Voss deserves better than to bleed for the crown while others grow fat."
A low murmur of agreement rippled through the knights. Even Elara's gaze flicked to me—surprise, then something warmer that had nothing to do with her plan.
Harlan slammed his goblet down. "Enough prattle. Prepare the response as you wish, boy. Just don't bother me with details." He stood, dragging Lira with him toward the stairs. "See to the feast, wife. And try not to look so sour. No one likes a bitter old cunt at the table."
He laughed at his own joke and disappeared upstairs with the girl, leaving the hall in stunned silence.
Elara remained standing a long moment. Then she turned to the servants, voice steady. "You heard the baron. Prepare the feast. Double portions for the guards tonight—they will need their strength."
The household scattered. I lingered until the hall emptied, then approached her under the pretense of helping with the heavy ledger.
"Mother," I said quietly, close enough that only she could hear, "the decree changes nothing about tonight. If anything, it makes your plan more necessary. The house needs a real leader."
Her eyes met mine. The mask was flawless for the few servants still moving at the edges, but I saw the storm beneath—rage at the public humiliation, cold calculation about the royal demand, and beneath it all, the heat from our morning encounter still simmering.
"You speak like a man who thinks he can shoulder the burden," she murmured. "Careful, Eldrin. This is still my game."
I leaned in a fraction, letting my shoulder brush hers the way she had brushed mine the night before. "I know. And I'm still yours to use… however you wish."
The double meaning landed. Her breath caught—just once—before she smoothed her expression and stepped back.
"Go prepare yourself for the evening meal," she said, loud enough for any lingering ears. Then, softer, only for me: "And remember what I told you in the solar. Save every drop. Tonight the crystal will record everything."
She turned and walked away, hips swaying with that commanding grace, the weight of her breasts shifting beneath the burgundy wool.
I watched her go, heart pounding with something far deeper than lust.
The baron thought he could humiliate her forever.
The crown thought it could bleed us dry.
Neither of them had any idea that the second son they barely noticed was already rewriting the future of House Voss—starting with the woman they both underestimated.
Tonight, Elara would try to execute the final step of her revenge.
Tonight, I would begin the real claiming.
End of Chapter 4