The crackling of the flames in the hearth swirled and swirled, but their heat could not penetrate the frostiness of Elara's room. Outside, the snowstorm howled against the castle walls, as if nature itself conspired to cage her within this fortress of treachery. She sat at her desk, quill in hand, staring at the parchment before her. A letter meant for the northern allies, a plea masked as trade negotiations—Alistair's plan.
But as her eyes drifted over the words, her instincts gnawed at her. Trusting Alistair felt like holding a blade by its edge. She had none of the proof, none of the answers, only a suspicion which had taken hold in the marrow of her brain since the assassin's call.
Was it paranoia, or truth whispering to me?
The quiet knock at her door made her tense. Elara slid the unfinished letter under her papers and straightened.
"Enter."
The door swung open, and there stood Miri, her devoted handmaiden standing with a little tray. Two steaming cups rested on its surface.
Tea, Your Highness," Miri murmured, her smile sweet and friendly.
Elara nodded, though her eyes lingered on the tray longer than necessary. Poison. A subtle killer, and one favored by spies. The thought struck her like a phantom blade. Miri had been at her side for decades, long before the very throne became a battleground. However, trust was no longer an option that Elara could afford.
Just put it on the table there," Elara told her, struggling to keep her voice from getting shaky as she motioned with her hand to the table by the window. "I'll drink it later."
Miri paused, concern flickering across her face. "Your Highness, you haven't eaten all day—"
"I'll drink it later," Elara repeated sharply.
Miri flinched but dipped her head. "Of course, Princess. If you need anything, call for me." She disappeared just as she'd appeared, her tread swallowed in the hallway's icy abyss.
Elara breathed out slowly, her hand automatically flitting over the butt of the sword strapped to her thigh. She got up from her desk, the quiet whisper of her cloak the only sound in the room as she moved in front of the tray. The fragrance of the tea was inviting, yet she did not reach out for it. On the contrary, she took up the cup and put a single drop into a silver dish on the table.
She waited.
Seconds later, the silver village started to darken, black veins crawling across its top like a death affliction.
Her pulse thundered in her ears. Poison.
The Jade Lotus is already within your walls. They had struck—quietly, insidiously. However, it was not just a message; it was a "standard" (the nerves, the skin, the muscles, the brain) so it was a test.
Who would try to kill me?
Miri? Elara's chest ached at the idea, but dues could be paid. Or had someone else slipped the poison into her chambers, using Miri as an unknowing pawn?
She needed answers.
The Dungeons.
The torchlight flickered weakly against the damp stone walls, illuminating the face of the spy kneeling before Elara. Blood crusted his lip, and bruises bloomed across his cheek, evidence of Bael's "interrogation.
"Speak," Elara commanded, her voice as cold as the steel dagger she held. Her patience had long frayed.
The fellow looked up, his smile a ghastly mockery. "The Sect doesn't break so easily, Princess."
Bael loomed behind the man, his gauntlet-clad fist clenched. "He's been holding out for hours, Your Highness. He knows something."
Elara inclined her head just a fraction, but her eyes remained fixed on the operative. "Tell me," she said softly, stepping closer. The man's smirk faltered as she came down to his level and her point item kissed the neck. "Who sent you? Was it the Jade Lotus? Or someone in my court?"
The spy's Adam's apple twitched with swallowing, the blade just grazed his flesh. For a moment, Elara thought he would remain silent.
Then, he whispered, "You're looking in the wrong place."
Elara frowned. "What do you mean?"
A weak laugh escaped his lips. "The Sect does not fight alone, Princess. You run behind phantoms while the fire burns beneath your soles. Your trusted ones will bury you before winter's end."
Elara's jaw tightened. "Names. Give me names, and I'll grant you a clean death.".
However, the man only smiled wider, tooth bared grotesque like the smile of a predatory animal. "You'll know soon enough, Your Highness. When the snow turns red."
Elara's fist clenched around the blade, and rage built up in her breast. But before she could press for more, the spy's body jolted. His eyes got bigger, his jaw dropped open in a choked scream, and then he fell forward.
A dart protruded from his neck.
"Assassins!" Bael barked, drawing his sword. Guards poured into the room, their armor colliding with their own bodies in the pandemonium. However, Elara's eyes moved to the barred window high in the 'dungeon' wall. A faint shadow disappeared into the night.
The Jade Lotus had silenced him.
Bael muttered an expletive and his blade sparkled in the torchlight. "They won't stop, Princess. They're watching us."
Elara sheathed her dagger, her mind racing. The Jade Lotus wasn't working alone. They encompassed her walls, her court, and now their fingers had reached her chambers.
Trusted ones will bury you.
Her blood chilled. The warning wasn't lost on her.
"We burn out the rot," she said quietly, her voice resolute. "No matter where it hides."
The Courtyard at Dawn.
Snow had fallen overnight, blanketing the castle in quiet serenity. However, standing atop the balcony and looking down into the courtyard, there was no tranquility within Elara. Soldiers of Bael assembled for the north ride by Alistair's command. They were to secure reinforcements under the guise of trade—but she hadn't forgotten the poison.
She turned to Bael, who stood beside her. Not a word even escapes the walls concerning the attack on my life. Do you understand?"
Bael nodded grimly. "Aye, Princess. But you can't hide this forever. The court will notice your suspicions."
"Let them notice," Elara said, her eyes hard. "And let them wonder who I suspect."
She descended the balcony steps and strode toward the stables where her horse awaited. Miri had prepared it herself—another small test of loyalty.
Bael followed closely behind. "Where are you going, Your Highness?"
Elara saddled her horse whose cloak trailed behind like black waves on the back of the saddle. "To the Silver Fang Clan. If the Jade Lotus is a showpiece, this means, I cannot, I need to isolate my own allies.
Bael frowned but nodded. "I'll ready an escort—"
"No," Elara interrupted. "This journey will be made in shadows. The fewer who know, the safer I'll be."
She looked toward the horizon, where the storm clouds were beginning to gather again. Danger brewed across the land, and trust had become a luxury she could no longer afford. The weight of her kingdom rested on her shoulders alone.
The Jade Lotus would learn the cost of challenging a coronet of ice.
And the conspirators in her chamber would have her sword first before winter's morn.