Aria stepped into the moonlit corridor, her heels clicking softly against marble. Laughter echoed behind her from the ballroom, but she moved like a shadow slipping through a place that had long ago turned its back on her.
The palace hadn't changed.
Same gilded lies on the walls. Same bloody history buried under silk and wine. Every chandelier, every red carpet whispered ghosts to her.
And yet… she was the one wearing a mask.
Breathe, Aria.
You're not a girl anymore. You're a weapon.
She passed a pair of drunken nobles without drawing notice and descended the servant's stairwell she used to race down as a child. They didn't recognize her now. No one did.
Not even the Blood Prince himself.
He looked at her tonight like a man intrigued, not alarmed. Like prey flirting with a predator who hadn't yet unsheathed her claws.
And gods… he had been beautiful.
Not in the way flowers were beautiful—but storms. Dangerous. Consuming. The kind of man your body leaned into while your soul screamed no.
She hated that she noticed.
And she hated even more that she'd enjoyed dancing with him.
This mission doesn't allow feelings.
Only vengeance.
Aria reached a forgotten hallway behind the Great Library. Her contact was late.
"Aria."
The voice came from the dark.
She spun, a dagger already in hand.
But the figure stepped into the dim moonlight with raised hands.
"You still move like a thief," the man said. "Good."
It was Elias, her father's former spymaster. One of the last loyal to House Valen.
She lowered the blade, barely.
"You're late."
"And you're bold," he replied. "Waltzing with the prince who slaughtered your kin? What next? Tea with the empress?"
Her voice turned steel. "I need to be close to him."
Elias frowned. "You're playing a game you don't fully understand. Nikolai is not just a prince—he's the favored heir now. He controls the royal guard, the Black Council, and half the trade routes from here to the Eastern Reaches."
"Then he's exactly who I need to destroy."
A pause.
Then Elias handed her a rolled parchment.
"Your next target. High Lord Trevan. He's hosting a masquerade in two nights—he supplies poisons to the royal court. Cut his ties, and the empress loses her apothecary."
Aria opened the scroll and studied the map of the estate. Guard rotation, servant schedules, hidden passages. It was surgical.
She nodded once. "Consider it done."
But as she turned, Elias added quietly, "Don't let the prince touch you again."
She paused.
"Why?"
"Because once he marks something, he rarely lets it go."
---
Two nights later…
The masquerade at House Trevan's estate was decadent and blasphemous.
Masks of gold and bone. Music laced with lust. Perfumed air thick enough to drown in. Aria wore black tonight—like a widow, like death.
She'd already slipped past three guards and planted the vial inside the Lord's private decanter. All that was left was time.
And then… her breath caught.
He was here.
Nikolai.
Unmasked.
He moved like a lion through lambs—dangerous and self-assured. Eyes scanning. Hands gloved in leather. Commanding attention without demanding it.
Why was he here?
Aria drifted into the crowd, angling her body away.
But she was too late.
He caught her scent.
"I knew you'd show up," he said behind her, low and close.
She turned slowly, already wearing her smile.
"And I knew you'd chase."
"You look different."
"Black suits mourning."
His eyes narrowed slightly, amused. "Who are you mourning?"
"Maybe… the last man who got too close."
He chuckled, stepping into her space. "You're either a spy, an assassin, or very bored."
Aria tilted her head. "And you're too curious for your own good."
He touched her mask, fingers ghosting over lace. "Let me see you."
Her heart stuttered.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because you'll only want more."
The music shifted. Another waltz began.
He held out his hand again.
And damn her—she took it.
---
They danced beneath chandeliers shaped like hanging stars, and for a moment the world faded.
No empires.
No blood.
Just heat. Breath. Tension.
Nikolai studied her with calculating hunger. "Do you know how many women want me to look at them like this?"
Aria leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. "Do you know how many of them wish they hadn't?"
He stiffened slightly, smile fading.
That's right, prince.
Feel the danger.
Taste the bite.
But then—he laughed.
"Who are you, truly?"
And before she could answer, a scream echoed from upstairs.
The poison had worked.
Chaos erupted. Guards shouted. Nobles scattered.
Aria slipped from his grasp and vanished into the fray.
But not before Nikolai saw it—just a flicker.
A mark.
A faint scar beneath her shoulder where her gown dipped low.
He'd seen it before.
Years ago.
On a corpse that was never found.
His blood ran cold.
"She's not who she says she is," he muttered.
And he would find out what she was hiding—even if he had to burn down every lie she built to get to the truth.
---
End of Chapter Two