Spies and allies
She took a slow breath, feeling the air shift as she summoned her magic. In the blink of an eye, she vanished from her room.
When she reappeared, it was inside a small, dimly lit chamber in the servant's quarters. A single candle flickered on a wooden table, its glow barely illuminating the space. Against the far wall, sprawled across a straw-filled mattress, lay the very man she sought.
The traitorous guard snored loudly, oblivious to the danger now looming over him.
Lysara lifted her fingers with a flick of her wrist, and a bucket of water resting in the corner rose into the air. With a mere thought, she overturned it onto him.
The guard jolted awake, sputtering as cold water drenched his clothes and sheets. His confusion was short-lived—his eyes went wide with horror as he saw the shadowy figure standing before him. Before he could scream, his mouth sealed shut as if an invisible hand had clamped it closed.
"Did you think you could betray the kingdom and go unnoticed?" Lysara's voice was smooth, deadly quiet.
The man struggled, trying to speak, but no words escaped his lips. His body trembled violently as he scrambled back against the bed frame.
Lysara didn't need an answer. She already knew.
With a mere flex of her power, pain surged through his limbs. His fingers curled unnaturally, his joints twisting at angles they weren't meant to. His muffled scream was swallowed by the silence she had forced upon him.
"You were careless." She tilted her head, watching as he writhed. "Your loyalty was cheap."
The man's eyes pleaded, wide with terror.
"But lucky for you, I am generous," she continued. The pain abruptly stopped, his limbs snapping back into place. He gasped soundlessly, fresh sweat breaking across his brow. "Tell me everything."
He nodded frantically, his body trembling as he gestured wildly, desperate to be heard. Lysara allowed his voice to return.
"P-Princess," he gasped, his voice hoarse. "It was Hadrien! He approached me, promised wealth, power! I—I never meant to—"
Lysara raised a single hand, and the bones in his arm twisted again. He choked on a scream.
"Lies will only make this worse for you."
His breath came in ragged gulps as he sobbed, the pain leaving him shaking uncontrollably. "Please! I swear, I only passed small messages! I never harmed anyone! I—I was greedy, stupid, but I swear my loyalty to you! I will serve only you!"
Lysara's eyes bore into his, unreadable. The man's desperation was palpable, his fear thick in the air. He truly believed he would die tonight.
And perhaps, he should.
But dead men couldn't be useful.
"I will allow you to live," Lysara said finally, her voice low and commanding. "But from now on, you work for me. You will feed me every whisper that drifts through this castle. Every move Hadrien makes, every word uttered in shadows—you will bring them to me."
The man nodded rapidly. "Yes! Yes, I swear it! Please, just let me live!"
She crouched before him, her voice barely above a whisper. "If you betray me, I will not just end you—I will erase every trace of your existence, and no one will even mourn you."
His breath hitched, and he nodded again, eyes full of unfiltered terror.
Satisfied, Lysara knocked him unconscious with a flick of her wrist. Then, just as quickly as she had arrived, she disappeared.
Back in her chambers, she stood by her window, exhaling slowly. Her hands trembled slightly—not from fear, but from the exhilarating rush of control. Of power.
She had won another piece of the game.
A Different Kind of Conversation
Elsewhere in the castle, Evelyne sat across from Laurien, arms crossed, studying the foreign prince with scrutiny.
"You still haven't explained why you're lingering in front of my door so late at night," she said dryly, her tone caught between amusement and suspicion.
Laurien offered a sheepish smile. "I couldn't sleep."
She raised an eyebrow. "And so you chose to wander the halls like a restless ghost?"
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Something like that."
Evelyne sighed, shaking her head. "Well, since you're here, I suppose I can humor you with small talk."
Laurien grinned. "I'll take what I can get."
As the conversation flowed, Evelyne found herself more entertained than she expected. Laurien's manner was easy, his humor lighthearted. He had a way of making even the simplest stories amusing, painting tales of his homeland with grand gestures and exaggerated expressions that made her stifle small smiles.
Despite herself, she found it… nice.
After a while, he leaned back, watching her with a thoughtful look. "I don't think I've seen you smile genuinely all night. Not even once."
She blinked at him, startled by the observation.
"Is that so?" she mused.
"It is." His expression softened. "I'd like to see it someday."
For a moment, she was at a loss for words. She quickly masked it with a small scoff. "You assume a lot, Prince Laurien."
"I do," he admitted, eyes glinting mischievously. "But sometimes, assumptions turn out to be right."
Evelyne rolled her eyes but found herself fighting the smallest of smiles. "Goodnight, Laurien."
He dipped his head in mock politeness. "Goodnight, Evelyne."
As she closed the door behind her, she stood for a moment, listening to his footsteps retreat down the hall. A strange warmth settled in her chest—unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome.
Perhaps, she thought to herself, this night hadn't been such a waste after all.