The room was thick with tension, silence wrapping itself around the space like an oppressive shroud. Gwen stood before me, her hands twisting nervously in the folds of her gown, waiting for something—anything—from me. I let the silence stretch, savoring her discomfort. Let her stew. It was always better to make them come to you when they thought they had the upper hand.
I leaned back against the chaise, crossing my legs leisurely, my eyes narrowing as I studied her. She was desperate. Desperation made people stupid, reckless. I could use that.
"You're asking me to destroy what little happiness Seraphina has found," I said slowly, savoring each word. "To pull the strings in such a way that neither of them would see it coming."
Her breath hitched. "Not destroy... redirect," she whispered, her voice soft but laced with pleading. "For her own good, for the kingdom's good."
I tilted my head, eyes gleaming with cold amusement. "How noble of you."
She flinched, and I smiled. It wasn't just jealousy that brought Gwen here—it was fear. She feared losing everything to Seraphina and Dragonir's bond. She wanted to break them, but she also wanted to appear like a martyr doing it. How quaint.
Gwen took a hesitant step forward, her eyes wide with the weight of the plea. "You know this isn't just about me. Seraphina has... weaknesses. If Dragonir stays with her, the kingdom will suffer."
The kingdom. Always the kingdom with her. How convenient.
I uncrossed my legs slowly, letting the fabric of my gown slide like liquid silk as I rose. Her gaze followed me, her breath hitching when I moved closer, each step deliberate, predatory.
"You think I don't know her weaknesses?" I said, my voice a low purr. "I've watched her falter, watched her second-guess her every step. And you—" I circled her like a shark, letting my fingers trail just close enough to brush the air by her shoulder, "you come to me, asking for my help, not because you care about the kingdom, but because you want to rip them apart."
Her lips parted, a denial forming, but I held up my hand.
"Don't lie, Gwen. It doesn't suit you."
Her face flushed, shame battling with resolve. She looked down, avoiding my gaze. That was the moment I knew I had her.
I stepped in closer, leaning in just enough that I could feel her trembling. "Do you really think Seraphina will thank you for this? When it's all over, do you think she'll see you as her savior?"
She didn't answer, and I laughed softly. "She'll hate you," I whispered, my breath hot against her ear. "She'll hate you because, deep down, she knows you've always wanted Dragonir. And you're too weak to admit it."
I saw the shudder race down her spine. Fear. Perfect.
"But I'm not weak, Gwen," I continued, my voice dropping to a razor-sharp edge. "I'll help you. But not for the reasons you think."
Her eyes snapped to mine, wide, hope flickering in their depths. She thought she'd won. Poor, naïve girl.
I reached out, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear, a gesture almost tender. "I can give you a concoction. Something that will suppress their powers, their connection." My voice softened, gentle as poison. "Just a few drops. They won't feel the pull of their siren abilities... they'll be normal. Vulnerable. And then, you'll have your chance to play the dutiful friend, swooping in to comfort Dragonir while Seraphina crumbles."
Her eyes widened, and for a moment, I saw the spark of hope flicker into something more—something darker. She liked the idea. Good.
I stepped back, pacing slowly, each movement calculated. "But... here's the catch," I added, letting the silence draw out for a heartbeat. "You will need to gain her trust. Play the concerned friend, weave yourself into her life even deeper than before."
Gwen nodded eagerly, like a puppet on strings. "I can do that. I've already—"
"No," I cut her off sharply. "You haven't. You've been obvious. Pathetic." My voice was steel now, cold and brutal. "If you want this to work, you need to be smart. You need to make her believe that you're the only one who cares about her, the only one who sees her struggle. And when she breaks—because she *will* break—you will step in and offer her salvation. But you must be careful not to let Dragonir suspect. He's not as blind as she is."
Gwen nodded again, more slowly this time, the weight of my words settling into her bones.
I smiled—a small, dangerous smile. "Good. Then here's what we'll do." I moved toward the shelves on the far side of the room, pulling down two vials, their contents shimmering under the flickering candlelight.
I held them up between us, letting the liquid inside swirl like smoke trapped in glass. "This one," I gestured to the vial in my left hand, "is for Seraphina. Slip it into her drink, and her powers will dull, her connection to Dragonir will weaken."
"And this?" Gwen asked, eyeing the other vial.
I smirked, stepping closer until we were nearly nose to nose. "That one's for you."
Her breath caught. "For me?"
"Yes," I purred. "A little insurance. To make sure you don't get any clever ideas." My smile widened as her face paled. "You see, Gwen, I need to know that you're as invested in this plan as I am. And if you betray me... well, let's just say this little vial will make sure you lose more than Dragonir."
Her lips trembled, but she nodded, her resolve shaky but still intact. Good. She would do.
I pressed the vials into her hands, my fingers lingering just a moment too long, feeling the cold sweat on her skin. "Remember," I whispered, my voice dripping with venom, "one wrong move, and it's not just Seraphina who will suffer. Understand?"
"Yes," she breathed, her voice barely audible. "I understand."
I stepped back, watching her, my heart thrumming with the thrill of the game I had just set into motion. She would play her part, and when it was done, I would have what I wanted: Seraphina under my control, and Gwen... well, she was already broken, whether she knew it or not.
"Good," I said, a wicked smile curling my lips. "Then let the fun begin."
As Gwen left, clutching the vials like a lifeline, I turned to the window, staring out into the darkened night. The game had only just begun, and I had all the pieces right where I wanted them.
Let them all think they could play me. In the end, they would realize that I had been pulling the strings all along.
And when they did, it would be too late.