Aubrey
His body was a wall of muscle and rage, pinning me to the stone. The warmth of the ballroom felt a world away. Out here, in the cold moonlight, there was only this man, this predator, and his eyes that promised violence.
“I will ask you one more time,” Kaelen snarled, his voice a low growl that vibrated through my bones. “Who told you to call me that?”
“No one told me,” I said, my voice steady despite the furious pulse I could feel beating in his wrist, so close to my face.
“Liar,” he hissed. “Only one person ever used that name. And she is dead.”
“I know,” I said softly. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
The words seemed to stun him more than a physical blow. The pressure of his body lessened, just for a second. His fury was replaced by a dangerous confusion.
“What game are you playing, little dove?” he asked, his voice laced with suspicion.
“This is no game,” I repeated, my gaze unwavering. “This is about survival. Yours.”
He let out a short, harsh laugh. “My survival does not concern a spoiled lady from the south.”
“It should,” I said, pressing my advantage. “Because your brother, our future king, has made arrangements to end it. Permanently.”
His face became a mask of stone again. The flicker of emotion was gone, replaced by the cold, hard apathy of a seasoned killer. “Roderick is a peacock, not an assassin. He lacks the courage.”
“He doesn’t need courage when he has coin,” I countered. “He has hired a man. A specialist from the eastern continent.”
“You are lying,” he said, but there was a new tension in his shoulders. I had his full attention now.
“Am I?” I asked. “The order has already been given. In three months, when you are inspecting the border garrisons near the Dragon’s Teeth mountains, you will be killed. An arrow that looks like it came from a northern rebel. No one will question it. They will call it a tragedy. Roderick will pretend to mourn.”
I watched the truth of my words land. His jaw tightened. The scar on his face seemed to stand out, a stark white against his skin. He knew. He might not have known the details, but he knew his brother was capable of this.
“And why would you tell me this?” he demanded, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “What do you gain by warning me?”
“I want him dead,” I said, my voice as cold and sharp as a shard of glass. “I want Roderick to pay for his sins.”
Kaelen stared at me, his eyes searching my face for any hint of deception. Then, with a fluid motion, his hand went to his belt. A flash of steel appeared in the moonlight.
He pressed the blade of a dagger against my throat. It was not a theatrical gesture. It was a simple, brutal statement. The metal was icy cold against my skin.
“This is not a game, little dove,” he breathed, his face inches from mine. His eyes were flat, merciless. He was testing me. He expected me to cry, to beg, to faint.
I did none of those things.
I thought of the fire. I thought of the searing pain as it consumed me, the agony that went on for an eternity. This cold little line of pressure on my neck was nothing. It was a mercy compared to what I had already suffered.
Slowly, deliberately, I leaned forward. The blade bit into my skin, just enough to draw a single, warm drop of blood that trickled down my neck.
Kaelen’s eyes widened in shock. He did not pull the knife away. He held it steady, his arm like iron, but his mask of indifference was shattered. He had not expected this.
“I told you,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “I am not afraid. Not of you. Not of him. Not of death.”
He stared at the drop of blood, then back at my eyes. He saw something there that intrigued him, something that disturbed him.
“What do you want?” he finally asked, his voice rough.
“An alliance,” I said, the words clear and precise despite the dagger at my throat. “You are the Wolf of the North. A commander. A warlord. Roderick fears your strength, which is why he must kill you from the shadows like a coward.”
“Go on,” he prompted, his voice tight.
“I have knowledge,” I continued. “I know the court. I know its secrets, its weaknesses. I know every move Roderick and his allies will make before they even think to make them. I am a strategist. Together, we can destroy them.”
He pulled the dagger back a fraction of an inch, just enough so I could speak more freely. “You would betray your own class. Your own family. For what? Revenge?”
“Justice,” I corrected him. “And power. Roderick plans to take the throne for himself. But the throne is not strong enough for a snake like him. It needs a wolf.”
“You want to make me king?” He sounded incredulous, almost amused.
“I will help you take the crown,” I clarified. “I will clear the path for you, expose every traitor, and place every loyal man where he needs to be. I will give you the kingdom on a silver platter, Prince Kaelen.”
“And in return?” he asked, his gaze intense, searching.
“I want only one thing,” I said, my voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “When the time comes, I want you to bring me Roderick’s head.”
Silence stretched between us. The sounds of the ball seemed to be coming from another world. He stared at me, truly seeing me for the first time. Not as a silly noble girl in a strange dress, but as something else. Something as broken and dangerous as he was.
He slowly, deliberately, lowered the dagger. He wiped the tiny spot of my blood from the blade with his thumb before sheathing it.
“You are either the cleverest woman I have ever met,” he said, his voice a low rumble once more. “Or you are completely mad.”
“Does it matter,” I asked, “so long as I am useful?”
He did not answer. He took a step back, putting space between us. The intensity of his presence lingered, a phantom weight in the air.
“Your warning has been noted,” he said finally, his tone formal and distant. He was closing himself off again, retreating behind his walls.
“Is that all?” I asked, a hint of disappointment in my voice. “I offer you a crown and you offer me a nod?”
“I offer you your life,” he countered, his voice hard. “You came to me with treason on your lips and a secret you have no right to know. I should kill you where you stand just to be safe.”
“But you won’t,” I said. It wasn’t a question.
“No,” he admitted, a dark and curious light in his stormy eyes. “I will not. You are far too interesting to kill.”
He turned without another word and walked away, melting back into the shadows from which he came. He did not reenter the ballroom. He simply disappeared into the darkness of the gardens.
I stood alone on the terrace, my heart finally beginning to pound in my chest. I raised a trembling hand to my neck. My fingers came away slick with a small smear of red.
He hadn’t said yes.
But he hadn’t said no.
The Devil’s Bargain had been struck. And I had sealed it with my own blood.
