The two days leading up to the gala were a study in surreal duality. My mornings belonged to Rowan. We built forts out of silk cushions, had picnics on the floor of the solarium, and watched movies on a screen that materialized out of a wall. I poured every ounce of my focus into being his mother, shielding him with a bubble of normalcy and love, all while a silent, frantic clock ticked down in my mind.
My afternoons were for war. I drilled with Joric's holographic simulations, my reaction times and tactical movements growing sharper. I spent hours in the library with Silas's books, cross-referencing information about Coven rituals and mental shields, preparing for my own quiet interrogation.
On the afternoon of the gala, Lena, the head housekeeper, appeared at my door. Behind her, two maids wheeled in the garment bags I had seen before.
"Lord Dravos thought you might require some options for the evening," she said, her kind eyes sparkling.
Her presence was a calm, grounding force. As she directed the maids to display the gowns, she moved with an unhurried grace. My eyes were immediately drawn to a dress: the one of deep, severe crimson. The color of blood and power. The color of House Dravos.
"That one," I said.
Lena's smile was warm and knowing. "An excellent choice. It requires a woman of confidence to wear it."
As she helped with the fitting, her touch was gentle and professional, but her words were personal.
"He has not attended a gala in years," she said quietly, her eyes meeting mine in the reflection of the tall mirror. "Not since... before. He detests them. The empty pleasantries, the political maneuvering. He is only going tonight for you."
"He's going because it's part of a military operation," I corrected, my voice cool.
"Perhaps," Lena conceded, a small smile playing on her lips. "But I have seen him prepare for war before, Mrs. Corbin. It has never before involved consulting with a Parisian couturier." She smoothed the silk over my shoulders. "Be careful tonight. The court is like a tranquil sea of sharks. They smile while they bite."
Her quiet warning resonated more than any of Joric's blunt assessments.
Just as she finished, Rowan ran in, stopping dead when he saw me.
"Whoa, Mommy," he breathed. "You look like a queen from a story."
I knelt to his level, my heart aching with love for him.
"Do I, sweet boy?"
He nodded seriously.
"Is Mr. Rhyian going to be your prince?"
My breath caught. I didn't have an answer. But I felt a presence at the door and looked up to see Rhyian standing there, already dressed in a flawless black tuxedo. He had heard. The longing on his face was so naked, so profound, it was like a physical blow.
Lena, ever perceptive, stepped smoothly into the breach. "Mr. Rhyian is your mother's very important bodyguard tonight, little one. He's going to make sure no one bothers her."
Rhyian's gaze met mine over our son's head, a silent 'thank you' passing between us.
Later, after Rowan was settled for the evening with Lena, who had offered to stay with him, I began my real preparations. In the silent marble bathroom, I laid out my true armor. The gown was a disguise. With precision, I made a small incision in the thick inner seam along my right thigh, creating a hidden sheath for my stiletto. It vanished into the folds of the crimson silk. I fastened a diamond earring into my ear, its clasp containing my comms link.
A soft chime at the door announced the final piece. A nervous-looking vampire footman presented me with a simple, elegant black clutch on a silver tray. He wouldn't meet my eyes. I took it. It was heavier than it looked. Inside was the carved relic box, humming with a faint, contained energy. Silas's shielding spell was in place.
I stood before the full-length mirror. The woman who stared back was a paradox. She wore the silks of a courtier, the jewels of a queen, and the hidden weapons of an assassin. The crimson dress felt less like a gown and more like a battle standard. I was no longer a pawn. I was not bait. Tonight, I was a player...