The silence between us stretched, a thin, invisible thread poised to snap. Cairon Everhart regarded me with unreadable eyes, his stance relaxed yet unnervingly controlled.
I had spent my past life studying men like him—men who wore power like a second skin, who calculated every move long before they made it. He was dangerous. More dangerous than I had given him credit for before my death.
And yet, he did not recognize me.
I kept my expression composed, letting my lips curve into the perfect, demure smile of a noblewoman greeting her betrothed. "It is an honor to finally meet you, my lord."
His eyes flickered with something fleeting. Disinterest? Amusement? I couldn't tell. "Likewise, Lady Valcrest." His voice was deep, smooth as a blade slipping between ribs. "Your reputation precedes you."
I tilted my head slightly. "Oh? And what reputation is that?"
A pause. Just long enough for my pulse to tick up a notch. "A quiet one," he said at last. "You've kept yourself hidden from court politics. Uncommon for a Valcrest."
I laughed softly. "Perhaps I have nothing of interest to offer the court."
His lips twitched—barely. "Perhaps."
I had spent years perfecting the art of manipulation, of playing at innocence while weaving traps in the shadows. But now, I was stripped of my former influence, forced to rebuild my empire from nothing. And that meant keeping Cairon Everhart close.
The evening dragged on in a whirl of noble pleasantries, false smiles, and carefully veiled glances. Lord Valcrest, ever the proud merchant of his daughter's virtue, paraded me through the hall, ensuring every guest understood my value as a bargaining chip.
I endured it with the patience of a predator biding its time.
But Cairon watched me.
Not with affection. Not even with curiosity. His gaze was sharp, assessing—measuring my worth in ways I could not yet decipher.
When the final toast was raised, and the guests began to filter out into the night, my father leaned in, voice lowered. "You have pleased him."
I did not look at him. "Did I?"
"He has requested a private walk with you in the gardens."
My fingers curled around the silk of my gown. I lifted my gaze, finding Cairon already waiting by the terrace doors, his expression unreadable beneath the dim glow of lanterns.
I had faced death at his hands once before.
Now, I walked toward him willingly.
The night air was crisp, carrying the scent of autumn leaves and the faintest trace of burning wood. The gardens of House Valcrest stretched before us in carefully manicured beauty, winding paths lined with towering hedges and flickering torches.
I did not speak first.
Neither did he.
We walked in silence, the gravel crunching beneath our feet. Then, finally—
"You are not what I expected."
I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. "Is that so?"
His gaze remained fixed ahead. "You do not seem afraid of me."
I slowed my steps slightly. "Should I be?"
Another pause. Then, a quiet chuckle—low, amused. "Most are."
The world knew Cairon Everhart as a ruthless tactician, a man who carved his path with blood and steel. He was feared, respected. And yet, I had already died by his hands.
Fear was a luxury I could not afford.
"I think," I said, voice soft, "that people fear what they do not understand."
His steps faltered for the briefest moment. Then, he turned to me fully. "And what do you think you understand about me, Lady Valcrest?"
I met his gaze, letting the weight of my unspoken truth settle between us. "Nothing yet."
Something passed between us then, something neither of us could name. But before it could linger, before it could take root, another voice shattered the moment.
"My lady!"
I turned just as the maid from earlier rushed toward me, breathless. "Your father requests your presence immediately."
Cairon's gaze lingered on me for a fraction longer before he inclined his head. "Another time, then."
I dipped into a curtsy. "Another time."
As I followed the maid back inside, my mind raced. Something was wrong.
I could feel it in the air.
And when I stepped into the drawing room to find my father pacing, his face drawn tight with worry, I knew my instincts were right.
Lord Valcrest turned to me, eyes sharp with accusation. "What have you done?"
I blinked. "Excuse me?"
He thrust a letter into my hands, the wax seal broken, the parchment crumpled. My eyes flickered over the words, heart pounding.
Lady Elara Valcrest,
It has come to my attention that your engagement to Lord Everhart may not be as advantageous as once thought. I must warn you—his allegiance is not as it seems.
Burn this letter. Trust no one.
—An ally.
I read it twice. Then a third time.
And then I looked up at my father, carefully masking the storm rising in my chest.
Because the letter had not been addressed to him.
It had been addressed to me.
And that meant someone—someone in this world knew who I truly was.