Chapter 54: A Throne of Daggers

The nobles had shown their hand.

They didn't want Jarek gone—not yet. Instead, they wanted him bound, controlled. A figurehead who would sit on Rookhaven's throne while they pulled the strings from behind velvet curtains.

Jarek had no intention of letting that happen.

The question was—how long could he keep them at bay before they made their move?

A City Under Watch

Over the next few days, Jarek expanded his grip on the city.

Sylva's network of spies tripled in size, planting ears in noble halls, merchant guilds, and the barracks of the city guard. Tobias took over fortifying Vale Manor, stationing loyal men at key points, ensuring no one could make a move against Jarek without paying for it in blood.

But despite his growing power, something felt… off.

The streets had grown too quiet.

No riots. No assassins in the dark. No rival factions making plays for control.

Rookhaven had settled into a strange, uneasy peace.

Jarek didn't trust it.

He had ruled the underworld long enough to know—silence wasn't peace.

It was the sound of blades being sharpened in the dark.

A Shadow in the Streets

One evening, as Jarek returned from inspecting the city guard, he noticed something odd.

A figure in a gray cloak, lingering near the alleyways.

They weren't a beggar, nor a common thief. They moved too smoothly, their posture too disciplined.

A spy.

Jarek gave no sign that he had noticed. Instead, he continued walking, his senses sharpening.

He took a detour through the winding streets of the market district, testing to see if they followed.

They did.

His smirk deepened.

Amateurs.

With a sudden burst of speed, Jarek ducked into an alleyway, scaling a crate and pulling himself onto the roof in a single motion. He crouched low, watching as the figure hesitated below.

Now that he had a better look, he noticed something else.

The cloak was made of fine fabric—noble quality.

And beneath it, the glint of a dagger hilt.

Jarek's eyes narrowed.

Not just a spy. An assassin.

And not just any assassin—a well-paid one.

Jarek leaped from the rooftop, landing behind the figure before they could react. His dagger was at their throat in an instant.

"Who sent you?" he whispered.

The assassin stiffened. Then, to his surprise, they chuckled.

"Fast," they admitted. "Faster than I expected."

Jarek frowned. Something about the voice was strange. Feminine.

He pulled back the hood—

And his breath caught.

A woman, no older than twenty, with jet-black hair and piercing emerald eyes. A scar traced the corner of her jaw, and despite the blade at her throat, she smirked.

"Well," she said. "Are you going to kill me, Duke Thorn?"

Jarek studied her. She wasn't afraid.

Which meant either she was insane—

Or she had a plan.

A Dangerous Proposal

Jarek didn't loosen his grip, but he eased the pressure of the blade.

"Who sent you?" he repeated.

The woman tilted her head. "No one."

He didn't believe her.

She sighed. "Alright, fine. Consider this a test."

Jarek's patience thinned. "A test from who?"

The woman's smirk widened. "Me."

She suddenly moved—fast—but Jarek was faster. He pinned her arm, twisting her wrist until the dagger she had tried to pull clattered to the cobblestones.

Her smirk never faded.

"You're good," she admitted. "Better than I expected."

Jarek's eyes remained cold. "Why are you here?"

The woman exhaled, as if bored. "I wanted to see if the man who took Rookhaven was worth the rumors."

Jarek studied her. She was too well-trained to be some random assassin.

Which meant she was either lying—

Or someone had sent her to gauge his strength.

He stepped back, releasing his grip. "And?"

The woman rolled her shoulder. "You pass."

Jarek raised a brow. "Pass what?"

She grinned. "The first test."

Jarek wasn't amused. "You're playing a dangerous game."

The woman shrugged. "So are you."

She turned, stepping back into the shadows. "You'll be hearing from me again, Jarek Thorn."

And then—

She was gone.

The Game Begins

Jarek returned to Vale Manor deep in thought.

He didn't know who the woman was.

But she wasn't just another assassin.

She was something else.

And the fact that she had come to him meant one thing—

The real threats hadn't even begun to reveal themselves.

Sylva met him in the hall. "Something happened?"

Jarek nodded. "Find out if any assassins have entered the city recently. Someone's testing me."

Sylva frowned. "A rival?"

Jarek exhaled. "I don't know yet."

Tobias leaned against the doorframe. "Sounds like fun."

Jarek didn't smile.

For the first time since taking Rookhaven, he felt it.

A shift in the air.

Something was coming.

And he wasn't sure if he was ready for it.

The Council's Decision

The next morning, another summons arrived.

The noble council had reached a decision.

They wanted an official meeting.

A formal gathering in the grand hall of Vale Manor, where Jarek would sit at the head of the table as Duke—for the first time.

It was a declaration. A power move.

The nobles wanted to see if he would play their game.

Jarek's fingers curled around the invitation.

He smirked.

Fine.

If they wanted a game—

He'd play.

And he wouldn't lose.