The ballroom of House Viremont glittered with golden chandeliers and velvet masks.
Laughter rang from painted lips.
Wine flowed like blood in goblets held by trembling hands.
But beneath the music and lace, everyone knew the truth:
This wasn't a party.
It was a war.
A war of glances. Of whispered promises. Of poisoned favors wrapped in silk and smiles.
And at its center stood the man who did not belong.
Kael.
He wore a simple black mask, unadorned. Modest. Anonymous.
And yet, he was the most dangerous figure in the room.
Dukes eyed him from behind jeweled veils.
Countesses whispered his name like a curse… or a prayer.
"That's him," one noble murmured, voice trembling behind her feathered disguise.
"The man who silenced Lord Grevar with a letter. The man who made the Empress listen."
Kael moved through the room like a shadow. Every step calculated. Every nod deliberate.
He was not here to be seen.
He was here to see.
Evelyne appeared at his side, her mask a midnight phoenix, her presence magnetic.
"The Viremont heir is watching you," she said, eyes scanning the room. "He's nervous."
"He should be," Kael murmured, sipping wine he would never drink. "By the end of the night, he'll beg for my protection."
Evelyne tilted her head. "And the Baroness?"
"She'll offer herself to me before the music ends."
"And the Hero?"
Kael's eyes flicked upward toward the grand balcony.
There he stood.
Auron.
Clad in ceremonial silver. Polished, perfect… and utterly lost.
Auron watched the masquerade unfold, his hands clenched on the marble rail.
None of them knew the truth.
Not the priests who praised him.
Not the nobles who feared him.
Not even the people who once loved him.
He had killed in the name of faith.
And now that faith had begun to slip through his fingers.
And yet, there he was.
Kael.
Standing below like a phantom from the underworld, weaving loyalty and fear with the flick of a hand.
Auron felt it—jealousy. Suspicion.
"What are you?" he whispered. "A man? Or a mirror?"
Back in the ballroom, Kael turned to the Duchess of Lysara, her eyes hidden behind a crimson mask.
"You look troubled, Your Grace," he said gently.
"My estate is threatened. Bandits along the coast. No support from the Crown."
"Unacceptable," Kael said, placing a hand over hers. "I'll send men tomorrow."
The Duchess blinked. "You would?"
"The Empire cannot afford to lose beauty. Or loyalty."
Her breath hitched.
He had her.
Later, as the music swelled, Evelyne returned to Kael's side.
"Two offers of alliance. Three desperate favors. A spy exposed. And a secret letter from the Empress herself."
"Good," Kael said. "What of Auron?"
Evelyne's voice lowered. "He hasn't moved. But he's watching. He knows you're a threat."
"No," Kael said with a faint smile. "He thinks I'm a threat. I want him to believe that."
"Why?"
Kael's voice was ice.
"Because paranoia eats faster than poison."
The Hero turned from the balcony.
He had made his decision.
If Kael was the spider, then he would burn the web.
Even if it meant burning himself with it.
To be continued…