His smile spreads slowly across his aristocratic features, revealing teeth too sharp for human comfort.
"How refreshing."
The door closes behind Bram with a soft click that sounds unnaturally final. Mistress Cordwin hastily packs her measuring tape and fabric samples, her movements sharp with barely contained nervousness.
"He never should have come in." I pull my dress back over my head, fingers working the laces with controlled precision."And you never should have let him see me without my outer dress."
Vaelra's composure cracks like thin ice. "It doesn't matter what he sees now. You'll belong to him soon enough."
The words linger in the air between us, brutal in their simplicity. Mistress Cordwin pauses in her packing, clearly uncomfortable witnessing this family discord.
"The fitting is done." I smooth my skirts and walk toward the stairs without another glance at either woman.
Behind me, Vaelra's voice rises. "Ilyra, we're not finished discussing?—"
I climb the steps two at a time, leaving her words to echo in the empty space below.
Darkness settlesover the settlement like a familiar blanket, and with it comes the familiar chill that announces Azrathiel's presence. He materializes from the shadows beside my window, his gold-flecked eyes reflecting the moonlight streaming through the glass.
"You summoned me?"
"Not exactly." I turn from where I've been sitting on my narrow bed. "But I need to tell you something."
His attention sharpens, and I find myself studying the way starlight catches on his obsidian skin. The ember-veins beneath the surface pulse faintly, like a heartbeat made visible.
"Bram came during the dress fitting today. Watched me while I was... barely dressed." The words taste bitter. "Touched my face. Spoke about me like I was livestock he'd already purchased."
Something shifts in Azrathiel's expression. The gold flecks in his eyes dim until they're almost black, and the celestial chainmarkings across his shoulders begin to glow with a heat I can feel from across the room.
"He touched you."
It's not a question. The temperature around him drops several degrees, and frost begins forming on the window glass behind him.
"Yes." I wrap my arms around myself, though I'm not sure if it's from the cold or from the memory of Bram's fingers beneath my chin. "He was... evaluating his investment."
Azrathiel says nothing for a long moment. The silence is fat, filled with the sound of ice crystallizing on glass and the distant crackle of power barely held in check.
"This displeases me." His voice carries the weight of judicial pronouncement.
"I didn't summon you to retaliate," I say carefully. "I just... needed someone to know what happened. Without my father, I have no one. And I know you're only here out of obligation, but… I suppose that's better than nothing."
He nods once, a sharp movement that somehow conveys both understanding and dismissal. Then he's gone, leaving only the scent of smoke and the slowly melting frost on my window.
Word reaches us by midday.Bram's personal guard—a massive dark elf who's served his house for decades—collapsed during morning patrol. High fever, violent tremors, speaking in tongues that make no linguistic sense.
The settlement's healer can find no cause. No injury, no poison, no disease she recognizes. Just a healthy warrior reduced to babbling incoherence overnight.
I watch Vaelra pace our main room, wringing her hands as she processes this development. Bram's protection depends onhis strength, and his strength flows through the loyalty of his guards.
But I know better. I know exactly what happened, and more importantly, I know I never ordered it.
Azrathiel acted without my command. The contract binds him to my will, yet he chose vengeance on my behalf without instruction.
The realization settles in my chest like a stone dropping into still water, sending ripples through everything I thought I understood about our arrangement.
14
AZRATHIEL