Blades & Lies

The music swirled around them, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows across the ballroom floor. But Evelyn wasn't focused on the dance anymore.

Alistair Veyne was watching them. Watching Damien.

And Damien had noticed.

Evelyn felt the subtle shift in his posture, the way his grip on her waist tightened just slightly—not out of intimacy, but control. A silent warning.

She played along, maintaining the fluid movements of the waltz, though her heart was pounding in her chest.

Alistair knew something.

She could see it in the way he studied Damien, not as a stranger, but as a man who recognized another piece of a puzzle.

How?

Why?

The pieces weren't fitting together yet, but Evelyn knew one thing:

They had to get ahead of this.

The song ended, and Damien smoothly released her, bowing slightly with that infuriating smirk still in place. Evelyn curtsied out of reflex, but her mind was elsewhere.

Alistair was already moving.

The moment they stepped away from the dance floor, he was there, waiting—blocking their path.

His expression was unreadable, his cold gray eyes flickering between them before finally settling on Damien.

"Aldric," he said smoothly. "I don't believe we've been formally introduced."

Damien tilted his head slightly, that lazy, arrogant smirk still in place.

"Haven't we?" he mused. "I feel like I already know you."

Alistair's lips twitched. "Do you?"

Evelyn tensed.

This wasn't just conversation.

This was a battle of words, of veiled threats and hidden truths.

Damien shrugged. "You carry yourself like someone who enjoys hunting things far more dangerous than animals."

Alistair chuckled, folding his hands behind his back. "And you carry yourself like someone who's been hunted before."

Evelyn saw it.

The flicker of something in Damien's eyes.

Too quick, too well-masked for anyone else to notice.

But she did.

Alistair had just confirmed it.

He knew something.

And Damien knew that he knew.

Evelyn stepped forward, her tone light but sharp. "You seem very interested in my husband, Lord Veyne."

Alistair turned his gaze to her, smiling slightly. "Shouldn't I be? He's quite the mystery."

Damien chuckled. "Oh, I like him," he murmured to Evelyn. "Very charming."

Evelyn barely resisted the urge to elbow him.

Alistair watched them for a moment longer before finally stepping aside. "Enjoy the rest of your evening," he said smoothly. "I'm sure we'll speak again."

Evelyn took Damien's arm, leading him away before anything else could be said.

But she could still feel Alistair's gaze on them as they left.

This wasn't over.

Not even close.

The moment the door shut behind them, Evelyn rounded on Damien.

"Talk."

Damien sighed, rolling his shoulders as he removed his coat. "About what?"

"You know what."

He shot her a grin. "Darling, we just had the most delightful dance, and you're already back to interrogating me? I'm starting to feel unappreciated."

Evelyn folded her arms. "Alistair Veyne recognized you. Why?"

Damien hesitated.

A fraction of a second.

Not long, but long enough for Evelyn to notice.

"I have a very recognizable face," he said smoothly.

"Liar."

He exhaled dramatically, flopping into one of the chairs near the fireplace. "I don't know what you want me to say, Evelyn. Some men just take an interest in me."

Evelyn scowled. "This isn't about interest, Damien. He knows something about you. About your past."

Damien's smirk wavered.

For the first time tonight, he looked tired.

She softened slightly. "Damien."

He didn't respond for a moment. Just sat there, staring into the fire.

Then, finally—softly, almost too quiet to hear:

"I was hunted once."

Evelyn's breath caught.

She stepped closer, her voice gentler now. "By who?"

Damien exhaled, rubbing his temple. "By the people who locked me up."

The truth slammed into her.

The prison.

The one beneath Velthorne Manor.

The one Damien had been staring at the night before.

Velthorne had locked him away.

And now—Alistair Veyne knew it.

Evelyn knelt beside him, searching his face. "How much does he know?"

Damien tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling. "Enough to be dangerous."

A chill ran through her.

That meant Alistair could use it against them.

That meant their cover was cracking.

She clenched her fists. "Why did Velthorne imprison you?"

Damien let out a breath of laughter, but there was no humor in it.

"Oh, Evelyn," he murmured. "If I told you, you might actually start feeling sorry for me."

Her stomach tightened.

Because she already did.

Evelyn sat in silence for a long time, watching the way the firelight flickered over Damien's face.

Something about his expression—the way he looked at the flames like they might swallow him whole—sent a shiver down her spine.

"You said you were hunted," she said quietly.

Damien didn't respond.

She pressed on. "By the people who locked you up."

He let out a breath. "Yes."

She frowned. "Why?"

Damien finally turned to face her, silver eyes glinting with something unreadable.

"Because they sent me to die," he said.

Evelyn's pulse spiked. "What do you mean?"

Damien leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "The mission that got me thrown into that prison… it wasn't a failure."

Evelyn's breath hitched.

"What?"

"It was a setup." His voice was cold, bitter. "Velthorne sent us after that dragon. Told us it was dead. That all we had to do was retrieve its body."

Evelyn swallowed. "But it wasn't dead."

Damien's lips twisted into something that wasn't quite a smile. "No. And she died for it."

Evelyn's chest tightened.

The pieces were coming together.

Damien and the girl from his past… sent on a suicide mission.

Betrayed.

And when she died, they blamed him.

Evelyn stared at him, her heart pounding.

"Damien…"

His smirk returned, but this time it was empty. "That's why Alistair knows me, love." His voice was almost too soft to hear. "Because he was there."

Evelyn froze.

Alistair Veyne.

He had been there.

And now—he had found Damien again.