Blades & Lies

Evelyn gripped the reins tightly, her knuckles white as she adjusted to the creature's movements. She had ridden battle stallions, flown on skyships, and once even jumped off a castle wall onto a moving carriage—but riding a half-dragon gryphon was an entirely new kind of madness.

Behind her, Damien sat far too comfortably, one arm lazily wrapped around her waist as if he had no concern for the fact that they were hundreds of feet in the air.

"You can loosen up a little, love," he mused, his breath annoyingly warm against her neck.

Evelyn clenched her jaw. "If I loosen up, we die."

Damien chuckled, the vibration of his laugh sending a very unwanted shiver down her spine.

"You're doing fine," he murmured, leaning slightly forward. "Besides, if we do fall, I'll catch you."

Evelyn exhaled sharply. "You are not helping."

"Would you rather I whisper sweet nothings into your ear?"

Evelyn almost let go of the reins out of sheer frustration.

Damien laughed at her silence, clearly enjoying himself. "You know, if we're supposed to be newlyweds, we should work on our… closeness."

Evelyn took a deep, steadying breath.

"This is a mission," she said through gritted teeth. "Not a honeymoon."

"Ah, but to everyone else, it is," Damien pointed out. "And if we're going to be convincing, we might as well make an effort."

Evelyn ignored him, focusing instead on the landscape ahead.

The kingdom of Veridorn lay just beyond the mountain pass, its towers and banners barely visible through the morning haze. It was a land shrouded in mystery, a kingdom known for its cutthroat nobility, deadly politics, and a ruler who trusted no one.

And now, Evelyn and Damien were about to walk straight into it.

By mid-afternoon, they had reached the outer gates of Veridorn, where a small group of armored sentries awaited them.

Evelyn took the lead, slipping effortlessly into her role. She descended gracefully from the Gryphor, smoothing down the folds of her cloak before extending a gloved hand toward Damien.

He took it without hesitation, his grip warm and firm as he stepped beside her.

The guards eyed them suspiciously, their expressions unreadable beneath their steel-plated helmets.

"State your names and business," one of them commanded.

Evelyn inclined her head, her expression polite but composed. "Lady Evelyn Aldric and my husband, Lord Damien Aldric," she said smoothly. "We have been sent as emissaries from the court of King Aldric to discuss matters of diplomacy."

At her side, Damien smiled charmingly, his arm settling around her waist in a way that looked natural but far too comfortable. "We were told to expect a warm welcome," he added.

The guards exchanged glances.

A moment later, one of them stepped forward, eyes narrowing as he inspected them carefully. "You will be escorted to the castle. Any weapons must be surrendered at the gate."

Evelyn forced a smile, even as she felt her stomach twist. Surrendering her weapons was not an option, but refusing outright would only raise suspicion.

She glanced at Damien, who arched a brow, clearly amused by the predicament.

"Of course," he said easily, reaching beneath his coat to remove a pair of daggers, flipping them expertly before handing them over. "My lady?"

Evelyn hesitated for only a fraction of a second before unclasping the sword at her waist and handing it over with careful reluctance.

The guard inspected them one last time, then gestured toward the city gates. "Follow us."

As they walked through the towering archway, Damien leaned close, voice low.

"You're armed, aren't you?"

Evelyn smirked. "What do you think?"

Damien let out a soft laugh, his grip on her waist tightening just slightly.

"I think this is going to be very fun."

The capital of Veridorn was a city of shadows and splendor. Towering spires loomed over labyrinthine streets, their blackened stone gleaming in the late afternoon sun. Narrow alleyways disappeared into darkness, filled with whispers of unseen figures, while the main roads bustled with nobles in rich silks and merchants hawking their wares.

But beneath the grandeur, Evelyn could feel it—the tension, the unseen danger that curled like smoke through the streets.

This was a city where alliances changed with a single whispered rumor, where a wrong step could mean exile or death.

And they were walking straight into the lion's den.

At her side, Damien seemed completely at ease, his expression one of idle curiosity as he took in their surroundings.

"Quite the welcome," he murmured. "I don't think anyone trusts us."

"They shouldn't," Evelyn replied. "We're foreign nobles with no history in their courts. If they trusted us immediately, I'd be worried."

Damien chuckled. "Spoken like a true knight."

As they approached the palace gates, a figure awaited them—a man in crimson robes, his gaze as sharp as a dagger's edge.

"Lord and Lady Aldric," he greeted, his voice smooth and dangerously polite. "I am Lord Veylen, royal advisor to His Majesty. It is my honor to welcome you to Veridorn."

Evelyn inclined her head. "A pleasure, Lord Veylen."

Veylen's eyes flickered between them, as if searching for something unseen.

"I trust your journey was pleasant?" he asked.

Damien smiled. "Absolutely. My wife and I enjoyed the ride immensely."

Evelyn felt her eye twitch.

Veylen studied them for a moment longer, then gestured toward the palace doors. "Come. The king is expecting you."

The royal palace of Veridorn was unlike anything Evelyn had ever seen. Unlike the grand marble halls of her homeland, this palace was a fortress of dark stone, its walls adorned with elegant yet menacing architecture.

The air inside was thick with the scent of incense and cold steel, the flickering candlelight casting long, eerie shadows along the corridors.

And at the end of the great hall, seated upon a throne of obsidian and silver, was King Verrin of Veridorn.

He was younger than Evelyn expected, his raven-black hair streaked with silver, his piercing gray eyes watching them with an unsettling stillness. He did not radiate the warm regality of King Aldric—no, this man was a predator.

"Ah," King Verrin said, his voice carrying through the chamber like the whisper of a blade being drawn. "The newlyweds have arrived."

Evelyn forced herself to remain calm, even as her instincts screamed that this was a dangerous man.

Damien, ever the flawless liar, simply bowed, a smile tugging at his lips. "Your Majesty," he said smoothly. "It is an honor."

King Verrin's gaze lingered on them, his sharp eyes flickering with something unreadable.

Then, with an almost bored expression, he said—

"Prove it."

Evelyn stiffened. "Prove what, Your Majesty?"

King Verrin tilted his head. "Your love, of course."

And before she could react—

Damien kissed her.