Chapter 15:
Midnight shrouded Lionel's mansion. The full moon, filtering through stained glass, cast Arceo's symbol as a distorted shadow across the marble table. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the metallic sweetness of plum juice—dark red, almost like blood.
Lionel reclined in a black velvet armchair, toying with a ring engraved with Arceo's eye. His reflection warped in the liquid's surface, as if he were looking through another world.
"Call me more plainly," he murmured, leaning toward Aisha. His golden eyes dissected her, attentive to every gesture, every breath. "After all, you are the key that opens cages… even your own."
Aisha held his gaze, though her fingers trembled on the rim of the cup.
"If my blood is worth so much, why don't you take it and finish this?" she asked, voice steady, the tremor hidden beneath the challenge.
Lionel laughed—a frigid sound, like ice cracking in the night.
"Because killing is vulgar. I prefer silk traps to claws." He indicated the gilded coffer in the corner. Inside, a heart beat, resonating in unison with Sanathiel's scar. "That would be your end… but the time for that has not come."
"I don't understand what you want," Aisha said, jaw tightening.
Lionel sipped and continued calmly. "I'll offer you a bargain. If you wish to reclaim the memories Sanathiel stole from you the night of the red moon, come with me. He himself can return them."
Aisha raised one eyebrow, wary. "And how exactly would you take me to him?"
"Two options," Lionel answered, raising two fingers. "One: stay by my side and pretend to be my fiancée. Two: we kill him."
Silence fell like a bucket of ice water.
"If I choose the first, what will you gain?" she asked, with sarcasm.
Lionel turned his ring. The light from the coffer flickered. Aisha's reflection in the glass was no longer her own but Zaira's, eyes glowing amber.
"Do you really think Sanathiel spared you for love? Perhaps he stole you so you would never remember who you truly are."
A knock at the door broke the tension. Servants entered to clear the plates; Lionel dismissed them with an elegant gesture.
When the door opened again, Rasen stood in the threshold. His red hood was soaked with rain, shadowing his eyes. Lionel showed no surprise; his fingers tightened on the ring and a luminous rune flared on the floor, pinning Rasen in place.
"You thought you'd go unnoticed?" Lionel said, producing a cheque. "Thirty thousand euros to protect her… or to spy on her. How much is your devotion worth, protector?"
Rasen felt the paper burn in his hands. The sum was absurd—an exorbitant price for someone like him.
"I don't need it," he tried to say, attempting to hand it back, but his voice cracked.
"Too late," Lionel replied, with a courteous smile. "You've already played your part."
"Thirty thousand… to protect her." The figure hit him like slow poison. Still, the words escaped, weak: "Thanks…"
"You did well," Lionel said coldly, straightening his blazer.
Rasen left with clenched fists. Aisha could barely contain her anger. Their bodies brushed as he passed, and Rasen murmured, low:
"The Lionel I met in the desert didn't drink juice. He drank blood."
Lionel, leaning in the doorframe, savored the moment like an audience to his own theater.
"My future fiancée and my best employee… what a Shakespearean tragedy," he said, ironical. "Do you know what beats in the coffer, Aisha? The price of your forgetting."
Rasen ground his teeth, impotent. Aisha remained silent, her hand brushing Rasen's lips, pleading with him not to speak.
As the door closed, Lionel whispered in her ear, "They have their pact. We have ours. Choose your cage, Aisha."
At dawn a Bentley took them to the airport. For a second the world seemed to stop: Aisha saw Clear's hair tangled in Rasen's fingers, their proximity, the amber flash at Clear's neck. Something inside her tore.
Rage. Jealousy. Or the certainty that everything had broken.
Lionel glanced at her, tasting her pain. "Let's play fiancés, Aisha. But if you lie to me—if you betray me—before Arceo does, you will be the one to tear out my heart."
Aisha lowered her gaze, tears of contained fury brimming. "Then consider it done."