Blades & Lies

Evelyn had been in many noble estates before, but Velthorne Manor felt more like a fortress than a home.

The grand hall stretched before them, lined with towering stone pillars, each adorned with crimson banners that bore the Velthorne crest—a serpent entwined around a dagger. A fitting symbol, she thought, for a man whose loyalties were as slippery as a viper's movements.

Their host, Lord Castien Velthorne, led them deeper into the estate, his steps measured, his presence imposing.

Evelyn kept her expression composed, but she was already memorizing exits, counting guards, mapping out the quickest route to escape should things go wrong.

Beside her, Damien hadn't spoken much since their arrival.

She hadn't forgotten his reaction on the Gryphor—hadn't missed the way her words had shaken something loose inside him.

And yet, now, he had switched back into the perfect nobleman, his smirk easy, his movements relaxed, as if he didn't have a single care in the world.

But Evelyn knew better.

And she hated that she was starting to want answers.

"Quite the estate," Damien finally said, breaking the silence as they entered a lavishly decorated parlor room, where a long oak table was set for dinner. "It must take quite the army to maintain it."

Lord Velthorne poured himself a goblet of dark wine, watching them with the gaze of a man who sized up everyone as a potential threat.

"It does," Velthorne replied, swirling his wine. "But power attracts power, Lord Aldric. And a man without a strong defense is a man waiting to be devoured."

Evelyn took a seat across from him, keeping her tone polite but firm. "A fair statement. And does that mean you consider Veridorn's throne your strongest defense?"

Velthorne's blue eyes flickered toward her, amused.

"A direct woman," he mused. "I admire that."

Damien chuckled. "She has her moments."

Evelyn didn't look at him, but she kicked him under the table anyway.

Velthorne took a slow sip of his wine. "To answer your question, Lady Aldric, I am… practical about my alliances. The throne is strong—today. Tomorrow?" He smiled faintly. "Who can say?"

There it was.

A careful way of saying he had no true allegiance.

And that made him a very dangerous man.

A knight without loyalty. A noble without a king.

A man who could sell them out in an instant if it benefited him.

Evelyn exchanged a glance with Damien, whose silver eyes gleamed with intrigue.

Oh, he was enjoying this.

Of course, he was.

"So," Velthorne continued, placing his goblet down. "Tell me, what does King Verrin really want?"

Evelyn chose her next words carefully.

"The king values loyalty," she said, "and he rewards those who prove it."

Velthorne tilted his head. "A vague answer."

Damien smirked, leaning back in his chair. "We've only just arrived, my lord. We wouldn't want to overwhelm you with politics so soon. That wouldn't be very hospitable of us, would it?"

Velthorne chuckled. "Indeed not."

But Evelyn could see it—he didn't trust them yet.

Not that she blamed him.

Because she didn't trust him either.

After dinner, they were escorted to their chambers—a shared one, of course, to maintain the illusion.

The room was grand, the walls lined with dark velvet and golden embroidery. A massive fireplace crackled with low-burning embers, casting flickering shadows against the polished wooden floors.

And at the center of it all—

A single, very large bed.

Evelyn sighed. "Of course."

Damien grinned as he removed his coat, tossing it over a chair. "Try not to sound too excited, love. People might start to talk."

She ignored him, walking toward the window instead. The view overlooked the estate's vast courtyards, where guards patrolled the perimeter.

Velthorne's security was tight. Too tight for a mere nobleman.

Something else was going on here.

And she was going to find out what.

Damien stretched, making a show of settling into the bed, arms folded behind his head. "You know, for a spy, you're terrible at pretending to be happy in our marriage."

Evelyn scoffed. "And you're too good at it."

He turned his head to look at her, and for once, there was something almost serious in his expression.

"Is that what you think?" he asked.

Evelyn frowned. "What?"

"That I'm pretending?" His voice was light, almost teasing, but there was something beneath it. Something unreadable.

Evelyn's throat tightened, but she didn't let herself react.

She turned away from the window, crossing her arms. "You tell me."

Damien watched her for a moment, then chuckled softly. "If I told you, love, I'd ruin all the fun."

Evelyn rolled her eyes, moving toward the chair instead of the bed. "I'll take the couch."

Damien smirked. "Cold-hearted as ever."

She ignored him, resting her sword on the small table beside her as she sat down, leaning back against the cushions.

But as the fire crackled in the silence, Evelyn knew one thing for certain—

She wasn't the only one watching carefully tonight.

Damien was hiding something.

And sooner or later, she was going to figure out what.