Threads of Deception

Evelyn's hands itched for her sword.

She had seen Velthorne manipulate people before—seen him bend truth into lies and lies into loyalty—but this was different.

This was personal.

Damien stood beside her, his usual smirk nowhere to be seen. His silver eyes flickered between Velthorne and Alistair, cold and calculating.

Velthorne's smile didn't waver. "I had my reasons, of course. The kingdom needs warriors who can endure impossible odds. I simply… provided the stage for such a test."

A test.

He had sent them into a trap, watched as Damien and the girl fought for their lives—and when only Damien came back, he locked him away.

Evelyn's blood burned.

"Is that what you tell yourself?" she said, voice low and sharp. "That you did something noble?"

Velthorne tilted his head. "Not noble. Necessary."

Evelyn almost drew her blade right then and there.

Alistair, however, was still watching Damien.

The tension between them was suffocating.

"You knew," Damien finally murmured, his voice unreadable. "Didn't you?"

Alistair's jaw clenched.

Damien let out a breath of laughter. Empty. Bitter. "You were part of it. You let it happen."

Alistair didn't deny it.

Evelyn's heart pounded in her chest.

She had expected Velthorne's callousness, but Alistair—the man who had looked at Damien with recognition, with something dangerously close to guilt—

"You let her die," Damien said softly.

Alistair's fists clenched.

Velthorne chuckled. "Let's not be dramatic. She died because she was weak. The mission was never meant for her."

Damien moved.

Evelyn barely had time to react before he was on Velthorne—fist colliding with his jaw so hard the sound echoed through the courtyard.

Velthorne staggered, but his smirk never fully left.

Damien stood over him, breathing hard, silver eyes dark with something terrifying.

"If you ever say her name again," he murmured, voice low and dangerous, "I'll kill you."

Velthorne wiped his lip, checking for blood.

Then, he laughed.

Evelyn's grip on her sword tightened.

Damien wasn't the only one ready to kill him.

Velthorne straightened, unbothered. "There it is," he mused. "That fire. That rage. That's why I let you live, Damien. You have so much potential."

Damien didn't move. Didn't speak.

Velthorne gestured toward the guards stationed near the courtyard's edge. "Shame you wasted that punch. You're still under my roof, after all."

Evelyn's heart dropped.

The guards weren't holding back anymore.

They were moving.

Hands on their weapons.

Velthorne had expected this. Planned for it.

Evelyn and Damien were surrounded.

Damien's smirk finally returned, but it was sharp, dangerous.

He stepped back, stretching his fingers. "Oh, good. I was hoping we'd get to the part where we fight."

Evelyn exhaled, forcing herself to think.

If they fought here, they might win. But not without consequences.

And if Velthorne wanted them alive, he had other plans.

She hated playing his games.

But if she wanted to win—she needed to play smart.

She caught Damien's eye and shook her head slightly.

Not now.

Not yet.

Damien's smirk flickered, but after a tense moment, he took a step back.

Velthorne watched them both with interest.

"Smart," he murmured. "You'll need that intelligence in the coming days."

Evelyn hated the way he said that.

Like he had already decided their fates.

"What do you want?" she asked, voice tight.

Velthorne smiled. "What I've always wanted." His gaze settled on Damien. "To see what you're truly capable of."

Damien didn't react.

Evelyn, however, clenched her fists. "And if we refuse?"

Velthorne chuckled. "Then you'll both become far less useful to me."

The threat was unspoken. Clear.

Damien exhaled through his nose. "So you're offering us what? A deal?"

Velthorne nodded. "Something like that."

Evelyn hated this.

But she also knew one thing:

They needed more time.

They couldn't win this fight yet.

She glanced at Damien, forcing herself to speak through clenched teeth. "Then tell us the terms."

Velthorne's smile widened.

And Evelyn had a terrible feeling they had just stepped into another trap.

Before he could answer, Alistair spoke first.

His voice was cold, sharp—but filled with something else this time. Something deeper.

"She was my daughter."

Silence.

Evelyn's stomach dropped.

She turned her head, staring at him. Damien did the same.

For a moment, Velthorne's amusement faltered.

Damien's jaw tightened.

Alistair's fists were still clenched, his entire body rigid with barely contained emotion. "She wasn't supposed to be there. I told her to stay out of it. But she wanted to prove herself." His voice shook, just slightly. "And you sent her to die."

Velthorne exhaled slowly. "And you let it happen."

Alistair's entire body tensed, his breathing sharp and ragged. "I tried to save her."

Evelyn could barely process it.

The girl—the one Damien had risked everything for, the one who had died on that mission—

Had been Alistair's daughter.

Damien's hands curled into fists.

Something inside him was breaking.

Velthorne's gaze slid back to Damien, an amused gleam returning to his eyes. "I imagine this makes things more… complicated."

Damien took a slow, measured breath. Then he smiled.

It wasn't his usual smirk.

It was something darker.

"Not really," he said smoothly. "I already hated you."

Velthorne chuckled. "Good. Hate makes men stronger."

Damien turned to Alistair, his expression unreadable. "And what about you?"

Alistair didn't respond.

His entire body was still locked in place, his face carved from stone.

But Evelyn saw it now.

The rage. The guilt.

The weight of knowing that he had stood by while his own daughter was sent to die.

And Damien—who had carried the blame for so long—

Now knew the truth.

Evelyn exhaled.

They weren't just standing in a trap.

They were standing in the middle of a powder keg, seconds from explosion.

And when it went off, Velthorne would regret ever setting it.