The Web Tightens

The moment I returned to the Valcrest estate, I knew I was being watched.

It wasn't the usual way a noble daughter was observed—by servants, by whispering guests, by overbearing fathers ensuring their pawns played their roles correctly. No, this was different.

This was the kind of watching I knew too well. The kind that came from the shadows, from the hidden corners where enemies lurked with knives unseen.

Someone was observing me. And I needed to find out who.

I stepped inside, keeping my movements unhurried, feigning ignorance. If I made it too obvious that I suspected something, whoever was tailing me would disappear before I could lure them into the open.

As I made my way through the corridors, I caught a flicker of movement—there. Just at the edge of my vision, where candlelight barely reached. But when I turned my head, the space was empty.

They were good.

I was better.

I moved deeper into the house, choosing a path that led toward the back gardens. The heavy drapes along the halls shivered faintly, despite there being no wind. Someone was following me closely.

I reached the doorway leading to the moonlit gardens and hesitated, just long enough to let my shadow believe I was unaware. Then, in a swift movement, I turned sharply—and caught a glimpse of a hooded figure slipping behind a column.

A smile curled at my lips.

Got you.

Instead of confronting them immediately, I played my role. I stepped onto the garden path, making sure to move toward the darkest corners, where the torches didn't fully reach. I was setting a trap.

And they took the bait.

The moment I reached the secluded bench at the garden's center, a soft rustle came from behind me. A warning. A mistake.

I struck first.

Whipping around, I grabbed the intruder's cloak, yanking them forward before they could retreat. A sharp gasp escaped them as I slammed them against the stone railing, pressing my forearm against their throat.

Then I saw their face.

A woman. No older than me.

Wide, startled eyes met mine—deep brown, glinting with the flickering torchlight. Her mouth parted slightly, as if debating whether to scream or fight back. But she did neither.

Because she recognized me.

I could see it in the way her pupils dilated, the slight tremor in her fingers.

Who are you? I wanted to ask. How do you know me?

But I already had a hunch.

Instead, I tightened my grip. "You left me a letter," I murmured.

Her lips parted further, but no sound came.

I tilted my head, lowering my voice to something colder. "And now you're watching me. That makes me wonder—are you truly an ally, or are you something else?"

The woman exhaled sharply, then—to my complete surprise—she smirked.

"You haven't changed," she whispered.

It was like a blade pressed against my skin.

I had changed. I was supposed to be a different person now. No one should have recognized me so easily.

My grip faltered slightly, and in that instant, she moved.

With a swift, practiced motion, she twisted free from my grasp, stepping back just out of reach. I caught the faintest glimpse of a dagger at her hip before she raised her hands in mock surrender.

"I won't fight you," she said softly. "Not when we're on the same side."

A calculated statement. She wanted me to trust her.

I didn't.

But I also wasn't going to let her slip away now that I had her cornered.

I studied her, watching the way her weight shifted onto the balls of her feet—ready to run at any second. She was trained, but she wasn't reckless.

"Tell me who you are," I said.

A pause. Then, she exhaled and pulled back her hood, revealing sharp cheekbones and tanned skin. "My name is Livia," she said. "And I was once one of your spies."

Silence.

A slow, eerie kind of silence that settled in my bones, making my fingers curl into fists.

One of my spies.

One of my spies.

She had worked under me. Served in the network of informants I had once commanded in my past life.

Which meant…

She knew who I truly was.

I stepped closer, voice quieter than before. "Prove it."

She didn't hesitate.

"You told me once," she said, "that loyalty is a currency. That people only serve for as long as they are paid in coin, fear, or belief. And that the only ones worth keeping—are the ones who believe."

I remembered saying that.

I had said it years ago, when I first started building my empire in the shadows.

And now, standing before me in this new life, was a piece of my past. A reminder that my power had once stretched far beyond what anyone had realized.

Livia let the silence stretch before adding, "I believed in you then. And I believe in you now."

I studied her. "You knew I had died."

A slow nod. "We all did."

A beat of silence. Then, carefully, she asked, "How?"

How was I standing before her now? How had I returned?

I didn't answer.

Instead, I asked my own question. "Why send me a warning? Why not reveal yourself sooner?"

A flicker of hesitation crossed her face. "Because I needed to be sure. There are… whispers."

I narrowed my eyes. "Whispers?"

She exhaled, glancing over her shoulder before stepping closer, lowering her voice. "Someone else is moving in the shadows. Someone powerful. And they do not want this marriage to happen."

A chill crawled down my spine.

I had assumed that the biggest threat to my survival was Cairon Everhart himself. That I only had to play the game carefully enough to outmaneuver him.

But now—

Now, I was starting to realize that the game was much larger than I had anticipated.

And I was no longer the only player.