──────────────⋆˖☽ ​𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑼𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝑻𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒉 ☾˖⋆──────────────

My gaze lifted, a fraction of an inch, but it was enough. Mikaeus shifted his weight from one foot to the other, a betraying ripple in his otherwise stoic posture as he waited. The silence stretched, thin and fragile.

“Yes,” I finally breathed, the word tasting like a concession. “We can talk.” My eyes fell away from him, finding refuge in the intricate patterns of the marble floor.

“Thank you,” he said, the relief in his voice subtle but present. “Mira, Celia. You are dismissed.”

“Yes, my lord,” they replied in practiced unison, their heads bowing as one. As they turned, I watched Mira hesitate for a single, charged moment. Her gaze rested on Mikaeus, an expression of fierce, protective suspicion etched onto her face. Before I could fully dissect it, she was gone, following Celia from the room.

“Allow me to escort you,” Mikaeus offered. A smile touched his lips but died before it could reach his eyes. It was the kind of smile that didn’t warm; it merely rearranged the features of his face. “We can speak on the way.”

I gave a short, jerky nod, my attention snagged by the unyielding bindings on my wrists. It’s not like I have a choice.

The walk began in a silence that was not peaceful, but a heavy, suffocating weight. He was the one who wanted to talk, so why wasn’t he speaking? The quiet frayed my nerves, each step echoing in the cavernous hall. I let out a soft, impatient sigh, the sound unnaturally loud. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

He stopped so abruptly I nearly walked into him. He turned, his golden eyes locking onto mine. “Alanah, I am truly sorry about what happened with Emeric.”

The air left my lungs. It’s not okay, my mind screamed, a frantic, silent rebellion. 

Mikaeus is a monster, I told myself, clinging to the anger. It was a shield. But a sliver of doubt, cool and persistent, wedged itself beneath the armor. Is he? Or is he merely allied with one? I gave my head a slight shake, trying to dislodge the thought. It didn’t matter.

“It’s fine,” I heard myself whisper, the lie catching in my throat. “We already finished this discussion.”

Mikaeus remained motionless, his expression a mask. “Very well,” he said finally, his tone clipped and precise. “It will not be mentioned again.”

He started walking again, his long strides forcing me into a near-jog to keep pace. Was that it? Was a hollow apology all he had wanted? We reached the foot of the grand staircase, its pale stone spiraling up into the upper floors.

As we ascended, my eyes were drawn once more to the massive painting on the landing: the man with the dragon, who looked so much and yet so little like the man in front of me. I watched the straight line of Mikaeus’s back, the fiery red of his hair a living flame against the cold, dead stone. An unbidden question escaped my lips.

“Has your hair always been this color? And your eyes… have they always been gold?”

He glanced over his shoulder. For a fraction of a second, his composure fractured, and surprise—raw and unguarded—flashed in his eyes. Then the mask of indifference slammed back into place. He turned away and continued climbing. I scurried to catch up, reaching the landing as he did.

“It runs in the family,” he stated, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly.

The answer was a wall, solid and impenetrable. I knew, with absolute certainty, that he was hiding something behind it. “Why your family?”

Just as I spoke, a butler glided past, pausing to give a short, respectful bow. The brief interruption seemed to steel Mikaeus’s resolve, giving him a moment to forge his response.

“The Aurelian family,” he began, his voice measured and devoid of emotion, “has always worked with dragons.”

“What does that have to do with your hair?” I pressed, refusing to be deflected. His gaze slid away, and I pushed harder, my voice laced with a new, sharp edge. “So, even after their so-called ‘curse,’ you all just kept working with them?” The thought was so absurd, so pathetic, my mind screamed the word.

His brow furrowed. “Yes,” he said, his steps slowing to a halt. “We do. There is more at play here than you can possibly understand, Alanah.” He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a low, intense murmur. “And that isn’t what truly matters right now.”

Frustration, hot and potent, boiled in my gut. This endless dance of half-truths was leading me nowhere. “Then what does matter, Mikaeus?” I snapped, my voice rising. “You tell me nothing!”

“You are here because we need you,” he said, his voice infuriatingly steady. His calm was a placid lake, and my anger was a stone skipping violently across its surface.

“Why?” I demanded, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. “Why me? I don’t even want to be here!”

“Patience, Alanah. You will understand in time.”

I bit my lip to keep from screaming. “No. That means nothing. You speak in riddles, as if you don’t even know the real reason I was brought to this place.”

For the first time, his composure shattered. He flinched, a sharp, involuntary movement. “I do know,” he said, his voice tight with an emotion I couldn’t name. “But you aren’t ready to hear it. You—”

A frantic shout from down the hall cut him off.

“Mikaeus!”

A butler was sprinting towards us, his formal shoes slapping against the polished marble. He was pale, his chest heaving. “Mikaeus!”

Mikaeus’s calm finally evaporated. He seized the man by the shoulders. “What is it? Report!” The butler was trembling, his eyes wide with stark terror.

“The—” The man’s terrified gaze darted to me for a split second before snapping back to his master. He visibly censored himself. “Sir. We need you. Now.”

Before another word could be spoken, a second set of footsteps echoed down the corridor—heavier, deliberate, with a slight drag I recognized instantly. My blood ran cold.

Emeric.

He appeared at our side, his presence a suffocating weight. Mikaeus’s head snapped toward him, his gaze sharp and commanding.

“Can I trust you?” Mikaeus asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Emeric looked genuinely bewildered. “With what? Mikaeus, of course.”

“Good.” Mikaeus gave a single, sharp nod. “Take Alanah to her room. Do not leave her side until I return.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “And if you so much as touch a single hair on her head, I will hold you personally accountable.”

A cold dread flooded my veins, and my hands began to tremble. My gaze shot to Emeric. His expression had hardened into a mask of pure resentment.

“Are you serious?” Emeric hissed. “There’s an active situation. You need me.”

“No,” Mikaeus countered, his tone absolute. “You are injured. Your duty is to protect her. Walk her back.”

Emeric sucked a sharp breath through his teeth, the sound like tearing silk. “Fine,” he ground out.

My heart hammered against my ribs. He can’t leave me with him. He can’t. My fingers pulled instinctively at my bonds, a futile gesture of panic. What if he attacks me? What am I supposed to do?

As if reading my terror, Mikaeus met my gaze, his own expression softening for a fleeting moment. “You will be safe, Alanah. You have my word. He will not harm you.”

A hysterical laugh bubbled in my throat. His word? I risked a glance at Emeric and saw the undisguised hatred simmering in his eyes. This wasn’t a guard; this was a wolf ordered to watch a sheep, just waiting for the shepherd to walk away.

Unable to form words, I gave a numb, jerky nod.

When I looked back, Mikaeus was already gone, swallowed by the chaos down the hall. 

“Let’s go,” Emeric spat over his shoulder, not waiting for me. “Keep up.”

I hurried after him, my eyes drawn to the slight but noticeable limp in his gait. The phantom sensation of my foot connecting with his knee flashed through my mind, sharp and strangely satisfying. His left knee, I filed the information away. A weak spot.

“Move,” he snarled without looking back.

I broke into a jog, the silence between us stretched taut, vibrating with a raw, unspoken hostility. When we reached my room, he shoved the door open with a crash. The acrid smell of smoke billowed out, stinging my eyes and throat.

My heart leaped into my throat. I rushed past him, but the room was empty. The smoke wasn’t coming from inside; it was drifting in from the window.

I pressed myself against the glass. The afternoon air was choked with a thick, gray haze. A shadow passed overhead, and I looked up to see a dragon soaring past, its massive form momentarily eclipsing the sky. Its chest swelled with a terrifying, incandescent glow, and a torrent of liquid gold erupted from its jaws.

Are they attacking the town?

My eyes frantically scanned the unfolding chaos. Through the swirling smoke, I could see the flames weren’t consuming the streets. They were on the water. The massive, dark silhouettes of ships were burning in the harbor, their masts collapsing into the inferno.

A sudden awareness of Emeric’s presence directly behind me sent an icy shiver down my spine. He was too close. I could feel the heat radiating off his body. I spun around, putting my back to the window.

But he wasn’t looking at me. His green eyes were fixed on the destruction outside, his expression strangely distant, as if he were watching a memory unfold.

Then, his focus shifted. His eyes, cold and sharp as broken glass, snapped to mine.

“You,” he said, his voice laced with a sudden, chilling venom. “You are just like them.”

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