We only stopped when we ducked into the shadowed back entrance of the inn, locking the heavy door behind us.
I leaned against the wall, breathing hard, blood trickling from a shallow cut across my ribs.
Lucas braced himself beside , grinning wildly, blood dripping from a nick along his jaw.
"Got it?" he asked, voice rough.
I pulled the sealed letter from my cloak, holding it up between two fingers.
The King’s brother’s signature glinted in the dim light.
Lucas laughed under his breath — a low, wicked sound.
"Well, storm girl," he said, voice dark with satisfaction.
"Looks like we just stole a kingdom’s death warrant."
The sealed letter lay between us on the battered table.
The wax glead in the firelight.
A simple crest — Lord Everan’s personal sigil — pressed into the blood-red seal. I sat stiffly in the chair, the shallow cut along my ribs burning with every breath, but I kept my focus on the letter.
Lucas leaned against the far wall, arms crossed over his chest, watching with those sharp, pale blue eyes.
"We have enough," I said finally, my voice steady.
we packed within minutes.
By the ti the sun began to bleed over the distant hills, we were already moving.
Fast.
Hard.
Straight for the river path.
The city was quieter than usual —
but it wouldn’t last.
Even from a distance, I could sll the tension rising.
The alarm would co with the morning.
Guards would flood the streets.
Gates would slam shut.
But we would already be gone.
We took the rough northern trail, winding through wild country few dared to cross.
The path was treacherous — narrow, slick with dew, lined with twisted trees and hidden gullies
The horses we "borrowed" from the stable were wiry, stubborn things.
Built for speed, not comfort.
They grunted and protested but carried us north without faltering, hooves pounding against the broken earth like war drums.
The city shrank behind us —
a sar of black and red banners swallowed by the mist.
By the second nightfall, the gates of the Obsidian Throne lood ahead, massive and black against the darkening sky.
Relief didn’t co.
Only focus.
Only the final steps of the mission.
My body ached with exhaustion, bruises and cuts burning with every movent.
The guards at the gate recognized us imdiately, swinging the massive iron doors open without a word.
Inside, the fortress buzzed with muted activity — soldiers, scouts, ssengers moving like clockwork in the torchlight.
The King would be expecting us.
We dismounted in the inner courtyard.
The double doors to the council chamber lood ahead, carved with ancient runes and frad by cold stone pillars.
I pushed them open without hesitation.
Lucas followed silently, his presence steady at my back.
And at the far end—
He sat.
The King.
Still dressed in simple black.
Still dangerously handso in a way that stole the breath from the room.
Still radiating that terrible, silent power that bent the very air around him.
His gray eyes locked onto mine as I entered.
At the base of the throne, I dropped to one knee.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Lucas lower his head slightly behind — silent as a shadow.
I rose, withdrew the sealed letter from within my cloak, and held it out with both hands.
His fingers brushed mine — cold, callused, inhuman.
Without ceremony, he broke the seal and read.
Silence.
Heavy.
Suffocating.
Then—
"You’ve done well," he said, voice low and lethal.
He squeezed the paper slowly between his fingers, the sound crackling in the stillness.
"He really dares to dream big," the King murmured, almost to himself.
"Tomorrow will mark the fall of everything he’s built."
A slow smile curved his lips — a dangerous thing.
His gray eyes lifted back to mine.
"I should reward you," he said softly.
"What do you want?"
I stiffened slightly, caught off guard.
He hadn’t asked Lucas.
Hadn’t even glanced at him.
Only .
I didn’t understand why.
I didn’t want anything.
I opened my mouth to refuse — but the King spoke again.
"You can take so ti to decide," he said, his voice smooth as silk, deadly as a dagger.
"As long as it’s reasonable enough, I will fulfill your desire the best that I can."
I bowed again, deeply this ti.
"Thank you, my King," I said, my voice steady.
He watched in silence for a long breath.
Then he waved a hand lazily. "You may leave."
I turned and walked away without hesitation.
Behind , I felt Lucas still standing silently before the throne.
Curiosity prickled at the back of my mind.
So I waited outside the council chamber.
I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the black stone wall, feigning disinterest.
It took a while.
Long enough that I almost gave up and left.
But finally —
the heavy doors creaked open.
Lucas stepped out.
He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his tousled dark hair.
When he spotted , his mouth curved into that faint, dangerous smile.
"Well," he drawled, voice low and rough, teasing.
"You waited for ?"
I straightened too quickly, scowling.
"No, I just — I just —" I stamred, heat creeping up my neck.
"Never mind."
I spun on my heel, ready to storm off.
But Lucas’s hand shot out, catching my arm lightly.
Not hard.
Not enough to hurt.
Just enough to stop .
He leaned down slightly, eyes glinting with wicked amusent.
"Are you blushing?" he asked, almost innocently.
I felt my cheeks burning hotter, betrayal written across my skin.
"No, I’m not!" I snapped, jerking my arm free.
"Hmph. Let go."
He let go instantly, hands raised in mock surrender — but his smile deepened, slow and infuriating.
As I turned away, stalking toward the corridors, he called after .
"Thank you," he said.
Soft.
I didn’t turn back.
Didn’t slow.
"Whatever," I muttered, a little too fast, the words tangled with sothing almost shy.
I fled back to my quarters,
The door to my room creaked open under my hand.
I stripped off my travel cloak and tossed it over the chair.
Loosened the straps on my boots.
Unbuckled the dagger at my thigh.
A soft knock interrupted the quiet.
I rose.
"Who is it?" I called.
"It’s ," ca Cassius’s low voice from the other side.
Sothing about his tone — steady, but heavier than usual — made my hand tighten slightly on the blade.
I crossed the room and pulled the door open.
Cassius stood there, cloaked in black, his expression dull.
He didn’t wait for an invitation.
He stepped inside and shut the door behind him, locking it with a quiet click.
"What is it?" I asked flatly.
Cassius leaned against the wall, arms crossed, studying for a long, silent mont.
Then he spoke.
"The King plans to use Jesse."
I frowned.
"Use him how?"
Cassius’s mouth tightened slightly.
"As bait."
He continued, his voice even colder now.
"I can’t tell you more right now because it is the king’s private matters but I just wanted to give a heads up."
I processed it quickly.
Cassius’s jaw tensed slightly as he added, "It could easily end with Jesse dead."
I stared at him.
A slow, cold smile curved my lips.
"I don’t care," I said quietly.
Cassius watched carefully.
But he didn’t flinch.
Didn’t look surprised.
"I thought you should know," he said simply.
"Just in case."
Jesse’s life.
Jesse’s death.
Neither mattered to anymore.
He had made his choice long ago.
And I had made mine.
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