A Pact in the Dark: Chapter 13
Aric's smirk never faded. Lady Isadora's offer was tempting — power, influence and a woman who understood how to play the game.
But he wasn't a fool. And all alliances came with a price.
He edged in a little closer, whispering into her ear. "And what precisely do you want from me, my lady?"
Isadora's fingers drew little circles on his chest. Testing. Teasing.
"Loyalty," she murmured. "Discretion. Strength." Her emerald green eyes shimmered with mirth. "And, of course, a willingness to … indulge."
Aric chuckled as he held her wrist gently. "You assume I can be tamed."
She cocked her head, her lips curling into a knowing smile. "No, my dear Aric. "I guess you could let you loose."
A challenge. A promise.
Aric released her hand and stepped away. "Fine. I will play your game, Isadora." His silvery eyes flashed in the moonlight. "For now."
By the next morning, whispers filled the castle.
The duel had made an infamy of Aric. Now, there was weight — and danger — in his name.
But not everyone was pleased.
In the Duke's private chambers, Vaelis stood at the window, his fingers steepled. His most loyal knight knelt next to him with several broken ribs.
"My lord," said Sir Reynard raspily, "that man is no simple warrior. He's… something else."
The Duke's face was a blank screen. "I know."
A pause.
Reynard swallowed. "Do I pay you to arrange for an accident?"
The Duke's lips curled, almost into a smile. "No. Not yet."
He turned, eyes cold. "But if he goes too far … cut him down."
Reynard bowed his head. "As you command, my lord."
By noon, Aric was staring back into the noble court or the vultures that'd be watching this room with him.
But one particular noblewoman proved uneven.
A deep crimson silk figure with raven-black hair braided into an artful crown. Her golden gaze bore down on him like a predator eyeing its quarry.
Selene tensed beside him. "Damn," she muttered. "Lady Evelyne Blackthorne."
Aric arched a brow. "She looks like trouble."
"She is trouble," said Selene under her breath. "Among the top few of those women who can compete with Isadora in both beauty and influence. And unlike her… Evelyne likes to destroy her rivals, not seduce them.'"
Before Aric could answer, Evelyne was next to him, her stare sharp, knowing.
"You must be the infamous warrior who polished Sir Reynard's nose," she said, her voice as smooth as silk.
Aric smiled lazily. "And you must be the woman who gets off on other people failing."
A slight smirk curled on her mouth. "Only when they deserve it."
The tension crackled. Someone else was in the game now.
And Aric would need to decide — was she another obstacle … or an opportunity?