Chapter 5: Hearts and Daggers
The parchment on the desk was littered with names, motives, and loose connections. My thoughts were sharp, but the picture was still incomplete. Duke Renar Calderon sat at the center of my suspicions, his name circled in bold strokes. Yet, while the duke was the most obvious suspect, obvious wasn't good enough. The truth was rarely that simple in politics—or murder.
I needed to probe the waters carefully. The wrong move could expose me, while the right move might draw the conspirators out of the shadows. And I had only three days to balance the scales.
The soft knock at the door came earlier than I expected. My guard, a young knight with nervous eyes, announced the visitor with a tone that barely hid his unease.
"Lady Seraphina Calderon requests your presence."
Ah, Seraphina. The eldest daughter of Duke Renar. A woman renowned for her sharp wit, impeccable manners, and ability to wrap unsuspecting nobles around her little finger. The fact that she had come to see me was telling.
"Send her in," I said, rising to my feet.
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Seraphina entered the room like a storm in a silk gown, her every step deliberate. Her honey-blonde hair framed a face that seemed carved to perfection, and her piercing green eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made even seasoned diplomats falter.
"Lord Erenhart," she said, her tone cool and measured. "I trust the accommodations are sufficient for someone accused of treason?"
I smiled faintly. "A bit drafty, but the company makes up for it."
She arched an elegant brow, clearly unimpressed by my attempt at humor. "I'll be blunt," she said, taking a seat across from me. "My father has concerns about the accusations against you. Concerns that, if left unaddressed, could lead to unnecessary conflict."
So, this wasn't a social visit. Seraphina was here to gauge my intentions—or perhaps to plant the seeds of her own agenda.
"And what sort of concerns would those be?" I asked, folding my hands neatly on the table.
She leaned forward slightly, her gaze sharp. "Lady Aria's death has left a power vacuum, one that many are eager to exploit. If you're innocent, as you claim, then someone has gone to great lengths to use you as a pawn. My father simply wishes to ensure that his interests—and those of the crown—are protected."
Her words were carefully chosen, revealing nothing while implying everything. But I wasn't so easily outmaneuvered.
"I appreciate your father's... concern," I said, matching her tone. "But as I see it, Lady Aria's death benefits very few—and threatens far more. If your father truly seeks to protect the crown, he'll find that we have a common enemy."
Seraphina's lips curved into a faint smile. "A compelling argument. But words alone won't clear your name. If you have evidence to support your claims, now would be the time to share it."
"I'm working on that," I said. "Though I must admit, your visit has inspired me. Perhaps you could offer some insight into the political landscape as it stands? After all, no one navigates court intrigue better than the Calderons."
Flattery was a dangerous weapon, but Seraphina was a woman who thrived on being seen as indispensable.
She tilted her head, considering me for a moment before replying. "Perhaps. But I expect something in return."
"Name your price."
Her smile deepened, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of genuine amusement in her eyes. "I'll let you know when the time comes."
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After she left, I allowed myself a moment to breathe. Seraphina Calderon was both a threat and an opportunity. If she suspected her father's involvement in Aria's death, she might be willing to help me—if only to protect her own position. But if she was complicit, she'd likely try to lead me astray.
Either way, I needed to keep her close. And that meant playing a game I was all too familiar with: feigning interest while keeping my true intentions hidden.
I turned my attention back to the parchment, adding Seraphina's name to the growing web of suspects.
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The second visitor of the day came as a surprise.
"Erenhart," said the guard, his tone unusually formal. "Sir Damien Valcrest has requested an audience."
Damien. Aria's childhood friend, a man who had loved her with a devotion that bordered on obsession. If anyone wanted me dead, it was him.
When Damien entered, his anger was palpable. His dark eyes burned with unspoken accusations, and his hand rested on the hilt of his sword as if daring me to make a wrong move.
"You've got some nerve," he growled. "Sitting here like a prince while Aria's body lies cold in the ground."
I stood, keeping my expression neutral. "Damien. I'm sorry for your loss."
"Don't you dare speak her name," he snapped, his voice shaking with fury. "You killed her. You took her from us."
"Did I?" I asked, my tone calm despite the tension in the air. "Or are you just looking for someone to blame?"
Damien's hand tightened on his sword, but he didn't draw it.
"Think, Damien," I continued, stepping closer. "If I wanted Aria dead, why would I leave so many loose ends? Why would I stay in the palace, knowing the risk of being caught?"
His jaw clenched, but I could see the cracks forming in his resolve.
"You loved her," I said softly. "So did I. The difference is, I want to find the truth. Can you say the same?"
Damien stared at me, his anger warring with something deeper—doubt, perhaps. Finally, he spoke.
"You have three days," he said, echoing the prince's words. "If you don't find the truth by then, I'll kill you myself."
---
As Damien stormed out, I allowed myself a small smile. Two moves had been made, and the board was beginning to shift.
Seraphina and Damien were both pawns, but with the right pressure, they could become knights—or queens.
The question was, who would betray me first?
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