The pavilion was quiet.
The three Archmages, his Queen and his two most trusted, were breathing deeply, lost in the drugged, unnatural sleep. They were safe. For now, they were just... offline.
Alaric, bathed and dressed in fresh, dark clothes, felt the last traces of his 24-hour marathon of lust fade, replaced by the cold, clear-headed focus of a commander. He had secured one asset. Lin Ruoli was broken, chained, and her empire's secrets were now his. That was a massive win.
But there was another, much simpler, investment he had made. The little princess. It was time to see if his... efforts... had paid off.
He left his pavilion, the night air of the Conclave cool and sharp against his skin.
