Elara rose before dawn.
She didn't bother with the perfume. She didn't ask for the silks. She didn't reach for the gold pins that crowned a duchess's hair.
She only asked for ink.
Tessa entered quietly, arms full of parchment and a quill polished silver.
"All of them, my lady?" she asked, uncertainty flickering across her face.
Elara didn't look up from the desk. "Yes. Every name I told you to memorize."
The maid bowed and vanished like mist. By the time the sun crept over the mountains, four letters sat sealed before her—each with different wax, different wording, different power.
Some carried promises.
Others carried warnings.
She slid the third letter across the table toward Tessa.
"Deliver this one to Lady Brannoc of the Isles. In person."
Tessa blinked. "Should I say anything?"
"Yes." Elara didn't hesitate. "Tell her I'll owe her two favors."
"Two?" the maid echoed softly.
"One to protect a knight." Elara paused. "And one to ruin a snake."
She leaned back in her chair. The candle beside her had burned low—but her eyes only burned brighter.
This time, she wouldn't be caught in someone else's trap.
This time, she would lay her own.
—
The garden was wet with morning dew. The jasmine vines clung to the stone archways, fragrant and soft.
He stood beneath them like he always did—draped in gold, arms lazily crossed, eyes sharp despite the late hour.
"You're up early," Auren said as she passed.
"I didn't sleep."
His brow lifted. "Nightmare?"
Elara's gaze stayed forward. "A memory."
He watched her. The way she didn't flinch, the way her voice didn't shake—it unsettled him more than fear ever could.
"Was it a good one?" he asked, quieter now.
She stopped walking.
"It was the kind that teaches you how to survive."
The silence stretched, heavy with things left unsaid.
Auren exhaled slowly. "Do you still believe I let you go?"
That made her pause—but only for a moment.
"Not yet," she said. "But ask me again tomorrow."
And then she walked away—leaving him with nothing but his reflection in the morning frost.
—
Lady Brannoc arrived two days later, cloaked in quiet confidence.
Cladus stood behind Elara as she extended the sealed parchment.
"I assume you read it?" Elara asked.
Brannoc's lips twitched. "Twice."
"Let it fall into the wrong hands," Elara said. "Preferably the most poisonous ones."
"And if they suspect it's bait?"
"They won't." She smiled faintly. "Greed makes even snakes blind."
Brannoc said nothing—but her fingers curled tightly around the scroll. And then she left, taking the first thread of the trap with her.
—
The fire crackled low that evening.
Elara sat alone in her chamber, the edges of her silk robe trailing over the carpet like whispers. Her thoughts spun as fast as the wind outside her windows.
In the corridor, Cladus stood watch.
He hadn't moved in hours.
The door was slightly ajar—just enough for her voice to reach him.
"Do you trust me, Cladus?"
There was no hesitation.
"Yes."
She didn't turn. But her voice slid through the darkness like a blade unsheathed.
"Then don't protect me."
A breath. A heartbeat.
"Help me burn them."