Blades & Lies

Evelyn barely slept.

Even after the banquet ended, after the nobles had finished their subtle interrogations and their veiled threats, after she had escaped to the supposed privacy of their quarters—her mind refused to rest.

She lay awake in the massive four-poster bed, the silk canopy above her feeling more like a cage than a luxury.

And, of course, there was him.

Damien.

The man who had kissed her without warning. The man who had spent the entire night teasing and playing the part of the devoted husband as if he had been born for deception.

And now, he lay far too comfortably beside her, arms behind his head, watching the ceiling with lazy amusement, completely at ease while she contemplated strangling him.

"You're staring, love," Damien murmured, voice thick with sleep and amusement.

Evelyn turned onto her side, scowling at him through the dim light. "I'm thinking of ways to kill you in your sleep."

Damien grinned, turning his head to look at her. "Romantic."

"Why are you even in this bed?" she snapped. "You could've slept on the couch."

Damien shrugged. "And miss the chance to cuddle with my dear wife?"

Evelyn resisted the urge to punch him directly in the throat.

"Keep pushing me, Aldric," she muttered. "And I will have you thrown out of that window before sunrise."

Damien laughed softly. "So violent. It's almost as if you're not enjoying this marriage."

Evelyn exhaled sharply and rolled away from him, pulling the blanket up to her chin like a barrier. "Go to sleep."

For once, Damien listened. Or at least, he stopped talking.

But as she stared into the darkness, Evelyn knew this mission was only going to get more complicated.

Especially with him constantly getting under her skin.

The next day, Evelyn and Damien were summoned once again—this time, to a private meeting with King Verrin.

The sun had barely risen when the royal attendants arrived at their door, dressed in deep crimson robes, their expressions carefully neutral as they escorted them through the dim corridors of the palace.

The tension in the air was palpable.

This was no ordinary summons.

This was something far more dangerous.

By the time they arrived at the king's private study, Evelyn was fully on guard, every instinct screaming that something was wrong.

King Verrin stood by the massive window overlooking the kingdom, hands clasped behind his back. The morning light made his silver-streaked hair gleam, but his expression remained as cold and unreadable as ever.

"Your Majesty," Damien greeted smoothly, bowing just slightly. "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

Verrin turned slowly, his gaze settling on them both with quiet intensity.

"I find myself in need of a favor," he said simply.

Evelyn stiffened. "A favor?"

Verrin smiled faintly. "A simple task, really. A diplomatic matter."

She didn't believe that for a second.

"Of course," Damien said easily, stepping forward with that infuriating smirk. "Anything for our gracious host."

Evelyn resisted the urge to kick him in the shin.

Verrin walked toward them, pausing just inches away, his piercing gaze flickering between them.

"There is a nobleman," he said finally. "Lord Castien Velthorne. A… problematic figure. He controls a significant portion of Veridorn's northern trade routes, but his loyalty to my throne is… uncertain."

Evelyn's stomach tightened.

She knew that name.

Velthorne was one of the wealthiest lords in Veridorn, a man whose alliances shifted like sand in the wind. If he truly was conspiring against the throne, then whatever Verrin was about to ask them to do would be far from simple.

"I require someone to… persuade him," Verrin continued, his voice smooth, almost bored. "Someone charming enough to win his trust. And someone… capable… enough to act if necessary."

His eyes landed on Damien and Evelyn in a way that made it very clear what he was implying.

Evelyn barely kept her expression neutral.

Verrin wanted them to spy on this lord. Maybe worse.

Damien, of course, looked absolutely delighted.

"Ah," he mused. "You need a couple to infiltrate his estate, win his favor, and determine whether he's a threat to your rule."

Verrin's lips curved slightly, but he said nothing.

Evelyn's fingers itched toward a nonexistent blade.

This was a trap. She could feel it.

But refusing outright would only raise suspicion.

So she did the only thing she could.

She smiled. "When do we leave?"

Later that evening, Evelyn and Damien rode through the dense forests leading to Lord Velthorne's estate, their Nyxian Gryphor carrying them swiftly through the misty terrain.

The moonlight filtered through the towering trees, casting eerie shadows along the narrow path. The air smelled of damp earth and pine, the distant hoot of an owl the only sound breaking the silence.

Evelyn adjusted her cloak, keeping one hand near the hidden dagger strapped to her thigh.

"This feels like a trap," she muttered.

Damien, riding behind her, chuckled softly. "Oh, it absolutely is."

Evelyn shot him a glare over her shoulder. "And you're smiling why, exactly?"

He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against her ear. "Because traps make things interesting."

Evelyn rolled her eyes, focusing ahead. "Just try not to get us killed."

"No promises," Damien murmured.

As they approached the towering gates of Velthorne Manor, Evelyn knew one thing for certain—

They were walking straight into another den of vipers.

And this time, there would be no easy escape.