The horses' hooves echoed through the darkened woods, their steady rhythm cutting through the still night. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and pine, and the moonlight filtered through the thick canopy, casting eerie shadows on the path ahead. Asher kept his eyes sharp, his senses heightened, as they approached Lord Valden's estate.
Alaric, riding beside him, seemed unperturbed, though his usual confidence had taken on a more guarded edge. His golden eyes flicked toward Asher, the only sign of the tension simmering beneath his calm exterior.
"Tell me, assassin," Alaric said, his voice low, "what's your plan if we run into trouble?"
Asher's lips curled into a small smile, a flash of teeth in the moonlight. "Trouble?" he repeated, his tone almost mocking. "I'm not the one who made the mistake of walking into enemy territory."
Alaric's gaze sharpened, though his expression remained composed. "I'm well aware of the risks. But your presence here is more than just a precaution. I need you to act."
"I'll act," Asher said, his voice cool and detached. "When the time comes."
The estate loomed ahead, an imposing fortress of stone and iron, its towers reaching toward the heavens like dark fingers. Despite its grandeur, there was something cold and foreboding about the place. Asher couldn't shake the feeling that they were stepping into the jaws of a trap—one carefully set by a man who knew how to play the game of politics.
Alaric pulled his horse to a halt at the base of the estate's gates. The guards standing watch eyed them warily, but when Alaric raised his hand, they bowed low, offering no resistance.
"Your Majesty," one of the guards said with a respectful nod. "Lord Valden is expecting you."
"Lead the way," Alaric ordered, his voice firm and commanding.
They dismounted, and a servant hurried forward to take their horses. The heavy doors of the estate creaked open, revealing a vast hall adorned with ornate tapestries and chandeliers that gleamed in the flickering candlelight.
As they entered, Asher's senses tingled. The air was thick with the scent of rich perfumes, but beneath that, there was something darker—something that didn't belong. His instincts screamed at him to stay alert, but Alaric seemed unbothered, his stride confident as he led the way deeper into the heart of the estate.
Lord Valden was waiting for them in a lavish sitting room, his back to the fire, his hands clasped behind his back. He turned as they entered, his sharp eyes assessing Alaric with the practiced gaze of a man who had lived in the shadows of power for years.
"King Alaric," Valden greeted him, his voice smooth but tinged with a challenge. "I must say, I didn't expect you to come in person."
Alaric didn't flinch. "You made your threat, Lord Valden. I'm here to hear your terms."
Valden's lips curled into a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Ah, so direct. Very well, then. I'll be equally blunt. I want your throne."
Alaric's gaze remained steady. "And you think you can take it?"
"I don't think, Your Majesty." Valden stepped forward, his presence like a predator closing in on its prey. "I know."
Asher remained by the door, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of danger. He could feel the tension between the two men, like a rope pulled taut, ready to snap.
"You're in a precarious position," Valden continued, his tone a mix of amusement and disdain. "You've made enemies of the nobles. You've betrayed your family's legacy. And now, you've aligned yourself with an assassin who—how shall I put this—was once a tool of your enemies."
Alaric's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.
"You've grown too confident, Alaric," Valden said, his voice almost a purr. "You've forgotten how to fear. And that, my dear king, is your greatest mistake."
"And what do you expect me to do?" Alaric asked, his voice low and controlled.
"I expect you to leave the throne to me," Valden said, stepping closer. "And if you refuse, I'll expose your secret. The Shadow Court will be your undoing, King Alaric. Your assassin will be the noose that tightens around your neck."
Alaric's hand twitched at his side, but his composure remained intact. "Do you think you can control the Shadow Court? They're not your pawns to move."
Valden's smile grew, almost predatory. "Perhaps not. But I don't need them to control you. I just need your weakness. And right now, your weakness is standing right next to you."
Asher tensed, the words cutting through the room like a blade. He could feel the weight of Valden's gaze on him, the sharpness in his eyes.
"You're playing a dangerous game, Lord Valden," Asher said, his voice cold. "And you've already lost."
Valden's smile faltered for a moment, but he recovered quickly. "Is that so? We'll see. In the end, it's not just your king you need to worry about. It's the kingdom itself."
A cold silence fell between them, the tension thick enough to cut through. Alaric's gaze never wavered from Valden, but Asher could sense that the king's mind was already working, calculating his next move.
"I'm done with your threats," Alaric said, his voice like steel. "If you want the throne, come take it. But know this, Valden: I won't go down without a fight."
Valden's smirk returned, but there was something darker behind it now, a glint of malice in his eyes. "We'll see, Your Majesty. We'll see."