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“Let’s talk, shall we?” I say, tracing a single finger along the rim of his goblet.

He is curious.

He is hungry.

And that will be his undoing.

I meet his gaze, slow and deliberate, letting a smirk ghost across my lips. “You aren’t the only one who wants to see the Dragon Queen fall.”

That gets his attention.

His fingers tighten around his goblet, his body leaning forward, the flickering light catching in his dark, predatory eyes. “Is that so?”

I tilt my head, letting the shadows of my silver hair cascade over my shoulder, my voice lowering to something smooth, dangerous, sweet as poison.

"She has ruled for too long. Has held power for too long. Perhaps it is time for her reign to end."

Aldric exhales a quiet chuckle, studying me as if deciding whether or not I am an enemy, an ally, or something far worse.

His mistake is thinking he has a choice.

I drag my fingers slowly along the polished wood of the table beside me, nails tapping against the surface as I feign indifference.

“I’ve spent weeks in her castle.” My voice drops lower, the weight of my words settling into the space between us. “I know her defenses. Her weaknesses. I know just how to bring her down.”

Aldric stills.

For the first time since I stepped into his tent, I see something shift behind his gaze—true interest, true greed.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, studying me. “And why, exactly, would you betray her?”

I let my smirk widen, trailing a tentacle idly across my thigh, knowing his gaze will follow. "Because she betrayed me first."

I exhale slowly, letting the lie settle, letting him see what he wants to see—a woman scorned.

We talk for what feels like hours. Of war. Of Nyxara and his soldiers, weapons, and strategies. His questions are sharp, but my answers are sharper—half-truths wrapped in silk and venom.

When he leans forward, intrigued, I lean forward too—just close enough for him to think he is winning me over.

Men always think they are winning.

And that is why they lose.

Finally, he exhales, swirling the deep red wine in his goblet. “You do not trust me,” he says.

I chuckle, low and sultry. “Should I?”

His smirk returns, slow and indulgent. “No.”

He likes this game.

And I intend to play it until the very end.

Aldric leans back in his chair, watching me with a calculating gleam in his eye, fingers tapping idly against the hilt of his sword.

“Well, you came to me, siren. So tell me, how do we end the Dragon Queen?”

I don’t answer immediately.