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For a moment, neither of us speaks. The hush accentuates the soft patter of rain beginning to drum against the fortress walls. In this small, private bubble, she looks more vulnerable than I’ve seen her before—eyes shadowed, brows drawn.

A surge of conflicted emotion rushes through me.She’s dangerous, yes. But also alone in a place that would kill her for existing.I step forward, pressing a hand lightly against her upper arm. Her breath catches, and I see the flick of fear and something else in her eyes.

“I’m not your enemy,” I murmur. “Not right now.”

She trembles beneath my touch, but she doesn’t pull away. “You’re still a Dark Elf prince playing a twisted game. That’s… something I can’t forget.”

“I don’t ask you to forget. Just to see that we both stand to gain from cooperation.” My voice drops, unbidden softnesscreeping in. “I won’t let them tear you apart. It wouldn’t be good politics.”

Her lips twist wryly. “So it’s all about politics?”

A breath hitches in my chest. “Yes,” I say, even though a small voice inside of me asks if that’s entirely true. I linger a moment too long, feeling the heat of her skin through the fabric. Then I withdraw my hand, adopting a neutral stance. “Rest for now. We’ll reconvene in the morning. By tomorrow evening, I need something tangible to appease the council.”

She nods stiffly, a flicker of tension crossing her face. “I’ll… see what I can piece together without betraying everyone I care about.”

I incline my head. “A fine line to walk, indeed.”

Her expression flickers with a hint of grim humor. “I’ve been walking fine lines my whole life.”

Without another word, I turn to the door, pausing only to glance back at her. She stands in the dim lamplight, cloak falling in subdued folds around her slender frame. The flickering glow catches on her stormy eyes, and an unfamiliar pang resonates in my chest.Don’t get drawn in,I remind myself, forcibly shutting down the swirl of conflicting desire.

I exit the chamber, the wards rippling closed behind me. The guards out front straighten at my appearance, though they say nothing. Rain drums on the fortress’s high windows, an incessant patter that mirrors the rush of my turbulent thoughts. I head toward my own quarters, mind sifting through all that must be done.

I have a tenday to present the council with progress. Lysandra has a day to decide how she’ll handle the farmland rebels. In the meantime, her powers loom like a lit fuse, threatening to detonate.

When I reach my private suite, I’m not surprised to find Rhazien waiting inside, arms folded. He lifts his gaze, tension etched into his stance. “So? The council’s demands?”

I toss my cloak onto a nearby chair. “They give me a tenday. Either produce results or they’ll intervene.”

Rhazien grimaces. “That’s not much time.”

“Plenty, if Lysandra cooperates. She’ll feed me a lead on the rebels soon.”

He arches a brow. “You sound confident.”

I force a dry laugh. “Confidence is the only currency we have right now.”

He steps forward, lowering his voice. “Word on the corridors says Eiroren caught wind of a rumor that Lysandra might?—”

“I know,” I cut in, rubbing my temple. “Her illusions. The enthrallment. The council’s sniffing around. If they confirm anything beyond typical human abilities, we’re finished.”

Rhazien exhales slowly. “Be careful, my prince.”

I shoot him a pointed look. “Always. But we need to accelerate plans. Have someone quietly spread the notion that Lysandra’s rebellious spirit is fading—that she’s cooperating more each day. That should quell immediate suspicions of hidden magic.”

He nods. “I’ll see it done.”

A pause hangs between us. Then he clears his throat. “And… your personal dealings with her? Are they in check?”

My gaze snaps to his. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, cautiously. “Just that some say your interest goes beyond politics. I’m only concerned about your focus. She’s a human, after all. And a rebel at that.”

I grind my teeth, a flush of anger creeping up. “My reasons are my own. So long as I achieve the goal—keeping the council at bay—my ‘personal dealings’ are irrelevant.”

He bows slightly, though his eyes still hold a trace of concern. “As you say. I’ll leave you to it.”

With that, Rhazien departs, footsteps fading into the corridor. Alone now, I stand in the middle of my chamber, staring at the runic patterns on the walls. My thoughts swirl back to Lysandra’s face moments ago, how her defiance wavered, revealing a glimpse of genuine fear.