The temporary bond of Cyrus's blood faded as they returned through the service tunnels, leaving Elara with a lingering, phantom coldness and a heightened sense of his power. The logs were safe, the immediate threat from Valerius neutralized, but the next phase of the war was far more treacherous. Seduction.
Cyrus left her at her chamber door with a final, terse command: "Rest. You will need your strength. The game with Valerius begins at the evening gathering."
Elara didn't rest. She paced. The thought of seducing Valerius—the man who had murdered Kaelen and who had tried to destroy Cyrus—was repulsive. But she understood the cold logic of the plan. Valerius was a powerful courtier, a leader of the Queen's more aggressive faction. If she could turn him, she would gain a powerful, if unstable, ally, and simultaneously create a distraction that would draw the Queen's attention away from Cyrus.
She spent the hours before the evening gathering reviewing the lessons. Control the hunger. Command the desire. Use the truth of her lineage as a weapon.
When she finally emerged, dressed in a gown of midnight blue that contrasted sharply with her crimson hair, she was the perfect picture of the loyal, newly bound Heir—beautiful, poised, and subtly radiating the potent power of the Arcadia blood.
The evening gathering was a smaller, more intimate affair than the revel, held in a lavish salon where the courtiers mingled over crystal goblets of blood-wine. The atmosphere was tense, still vibrating with the shock of the previous night's confrontation.
Elara entered alone, her eyes immediately scanning the room. She found Valerius near the fireplace, holding court with a small group of sycophants. He was dressed in a jacket of deep emerald, and his honeyed eyes were fixed on her the moment she appeared. His expression was a mix of lingering humiliation and renewed, predatory interest.
Cyrus was nowhere to be seen. He had left her to the wolves.
She took a deep breath, pulling on the cold, hard core of her defiance. She was not Elara the tavern maid. She was the Crimson Heir. She was the perfect lie.
She walked directly toward Valerius, her movements fluid and deliberate. The conversations around her hushed as she approached.
Valerius dismissed his companions with a flick of his wrist and turned to face her, a thin, challenging smile on his lips. "The loyal Heir," he drawled, his voice smooth as oil. "I must confess, I am still reeling from your performance last night. Such devotion to the Enforcer. It was... touching."
"It was loyalty to the Crown, Lord Valerius," Elara corrected, her voice low and steady. "A loyalty I now possess in abundance, thanks to the Queen's generosity."
She stepped closer, invading his personal space. She could smell the expensive cologne, the faint scent of blood-wine, and the underlying, sharp tang of his ambition.
"You were humiliated last night," she murmured, her eyes holding his. "You were made to apologize to a man you despise. A man you believe is a traitor. That must sting."
Valerius's smile vanished. His eyes narrowed, and a flicker of genuine rage crossed his face. "You presume too much, little Heir. I am merely a loyal servant who was mistaken. The Enforcer is beyond reproach."
"Is he?" Elara whispered, leaning in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur that only he could hear. "Or is he merely a very good liar? A man who has spent centuries perfecting the art of obedience, while secretly harboring a deep, cold resentment for the Queen who holds his leash?"
She let the words hang in the air, watching the effect. Valerius's eyes widened, a spark of dangerous interest replacing the rage.
"You are playing a dangerous game," he breathed.
"I am playing the game I was forced into," Elara countered, her voice laced with a subtle, seductive vulnerability. "I am the last of a powerful line. I am bound to a Queen who fears me, and guarded by an Enforcer who despises me. I am a weapon, Lord Valerius. And I am looking for a hand to wield me."
She reached out, her fingers brushing the emerald velvet of his coat, a feather-light, intimate touch. "You want the Enforcer's position. You want the power he holds. You want the Queen's favor. And you want the potency of the Arcadia blood."
She leaned closer, her lips inches from his ear. "I am bound to the Queen, yes. But the bond is a chain, and every chain has a weak link. Cyrus is that link. He is the one who holds the secrets. He is the one who knows the truth of the Arcadia line. And he is the one who is standing in your way."
She pulled back, her eyes shining with a dangerous, seductive promise. "Help me expose him, Lord Valerius. Help me find the proof you were looking for. Help me break the Enforcer's hold on the Queen. And I will be yours. The Arcadia blood, the power, the loyalty—it will all be yours."
Valerius stared at her, his honeyed eyes dark with a mix of suspicion, lust, and overwhelming ambition. He was a viper, but she had offered him the perfect bait.
"You are a fascinating creature," he murmured, his voice husky. He reached out, his hand closing around her wrist, his grip possessive and demanding. "You speak of treason with the Queen's blood still on your tongue. How do I know this is not a trap? A test set by the Enforcer himself?"
"Because the Enforcer is a man of duty," Elara whispered, letting a subtle, seductive tremor enter her voice. "He would never risk his position for a woman. He would never risk his life for a lie. But I am the lie, Lord Valerius. And I am offering you the truth."
She let her gaze drop to his lips, then back to his eyes, a silent, potent promise of intimacy. "I am bound to the Queen. But I am drawn to power. And you, Lord Valerius, are a man of power."
She pulled her wrist free, a subtle, deliberate act of defiance that only fueled his desire. "Find me tomorrow night, Lord Valerius. In the West Gallery, after the court retires. Come alone. And I will give you the first piece of the truth. A piece that will lead you directly to the Enforcer's secrets."
She turned and walked away, leaving him standing by the fireplace, his face a mask of warring emotions. She had planted the seed of treason, fueled his ambition, and offered him the ultimate prize. The seduction had begun.
She found Cyrus waiting for her in the shadows of the hall outside the salon. He stepped out, his silver eyes fixed on her, cold and unreadable.
"You were reckless," he stated, his voice low and harsh. "You gave him too much. You offered him the truth."
"I offered him a lie he wants to believe," Elara countered, her voice steady. "I offered him the perfect narrative: the loyal Heir, bound to the Queen, but secretly resentful of the Enforcer who holds the leash. I made him believe I am his key to the throne."
She stepped closer to him, her eyes challenging his. "I made him want me, Cyrus. I made him want the power I represent. And I made him believe that you are the only thing standing in his way."
She reached out, her fingers brushing the cold velvet of his coat. "The lesson is complete. I have seduced the viper. Now, tell me. What is the first piece of the truth I am to give him?"
Cyrus looked at her, his silver eyes burning with a cold, focused intensity. He reached out, his hand closing around her wrist, his grip like iron.
"The first piece of the truth," he said, his voice a low, rough growl, "is the location of the vault. You will tell him that the logs are hidden in the lower dungeons, in a warded cell. You will tell him that only my blood can open it."
Elara's breath hitched. "You are giving him the location of the logs? The logs that contain the names of the children?"
"I am giving him a lie that will lead him to a trap," Cyrus corrected, his eyes dark. "The logs are safe. The vault is warded against all but my blood. But the cell outside the vault... that is where the real lesson begins. You will lead him to the cell. And you will watch as he learns the true price of treason."
He released her wrist, the cold contact lingering. "The game is set, Elara. You have seduced the viper. Now, you must learn to control its venom."