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Esmyra

T he masquerade ball was a chaotic bloodbath. Frantic guests in ornate masks fled in every direction, their once-impeccable gowns torn as they stumbled over upturned tables and broken bodies. Esmyra raced through the mayhem as everything she had come here for unraveled before her very eyes.

She swallowed her panic.

Ducking beneath a fallen banner, her heart stammered as she halted to catch her breath in the shadows near an archway. The sounds of clashing steel and panicked cries echoed through the corridors.

Esmyra smoothed her hair back and took a deep breath, willing her breathing to calm, knowing the chaos would work in her favor if she played her cards right. No one would notice one frightened woman in a sea of fleeing nobles.

Pushing forward, she wove her way through the remaining guests, her demeanor calm and composed despite the surrounding madness. She caught the eye of a guard—tall, broad-shouldered, and still clutching his sword with trembling hands as he stood at the base of a staircase.

Perfect .

She staggered toward him, feigning exhaustion and fear, her voice breathless. “Please… help me .”

The guard’s eyes widened at her disheveled appearance. “My lady…are you hurt?”

“No,” Esmyra whispered, her tone soft and pleading. She let her hand graze his arm, her touch delicate. Her eyes met his. “Can you help me get out of here?”

Her voice carried the slightest hum of power, the magic beneath the surface so subtle he was oblivious to being pulled in as she discreetly worked a hymn into her words.

His grip on his sword loosened as his eyes softened, gazing into hers as they shifted. “Yes…yes, of course,” he said, his voice growing more distant as the enchantment took hold.

Esmyra offered a soft, grateful smile, satisfaction rolling through her as she felt the control settle in. “Thank you,” she breathed, taking his hand in hers. “But…before we go, I need you to take me somewhere.”

The guard blinked, his brows pulling together. “Where?”

“What I seek lies in the upper chambers of the castle,” she whispered, leaning closer, her lips almost brushing his ear. “Do you know where King Rowe sleeps?”

A subtle nod was her answer, and she suppressed her grin.

“‘Tis vital. You must take me there.”

He hesitated for a moment, and she sensed the rational part of his mind trying to fight through the fog of her spell. But it was no use. Her power held him too tightly. With a nod, he sheathed his sword and motioned for her to follow.

“This way,” he said, his voice monotone, like a puppet whose strings she’d taken hold of.

Esmyra followed him up the grand staircase, slipping away from the chaos below. The further they ascended, the quieter the sounds of the main floor became.

The guard led her through a set of double doors, their heavy wood creaking as they opened to reveal a private hall, where at its opposite end she could make out an elaborate door of what she assumed to be the king’s chambers.

“No private guards at the door?” she whispered aloud.

“No, miss. The royal family was taken to a safe room under heavy guard until the madness below subsides.”

“And he’s to return this evening?”

“Indeed. I suspect he will be up once the castle is cleared.”

“Aye,” she answered with a sly smile.

Esmyra stalked down the hallway, her gown billowing behind her on a phantom breeze. The door to the king’s chamber opened with ease. She turned to the guard a final time as he stood at her back. “Return to your post at the castle staircase. Speak of this to no one,” she commanded.

The man’s back straightened, and without a word, he turned on his heel from her and marched down the hall from which they came. Once he left her sight, Esmyra waltzed through the chamber’s doors.

The room was luxurious, though far from welcoming. Rich tapestries adorned the stone walls, and the massive bed was draped in silks the color of her crimson gown. The only source of light in the abandoned chamber was the fire crackling low in the hearth.

She crossed the space swiftly to find that beyond the first wall, the room expanded to a small study fit for a king, where endless books and parchments covered a large wooden desk.

The room’s shadows embraced her as she moved towards it, hidden from view of the door.

Pulling out the chair that more resembled a small throne, she sat at the king’s desk as she awaited his return.

Her heart beat steadily as she listened for any sign of movement in the corridor.

Truthfully, she barely had a plan. Compel him was the obvious choice. Force him to release her father to her, and then they would be free, but not before she slaughtered him for the attempt on her father’s life. And then she would do the same to his fire-wielding son being held on her ship.

It wasn’t long before the heavy tread of boots approached, followed by the creak of the door. With a wicked grin, Esmyra silently crossed her legs on the king’s desk, her scarlet gown flowing down to the floor as she waited.

“Just guard my fucking door along with my heir’s,” the king barked.

A throat was cleared. “And what of Captain Draevyn? He’s yet to be found. Likely chasing after the culprits, perhaps?”

Esmyra had to suppress her snort.

“Draevyn can handle himself. Protect my heir . That’s a fucking order!”

A moment later, the door slammed, and the room was silent once more, aside from the small crackling embers of the fireplace. She watched from the shadows of the study as the king came into view, pouring himself a glass of wine on a small bedside table before throwing it down his throat.

“Fucking mongrels, these other kingdoms,” he grumbled, and her brows furrowed. King Rowe shoved out of his finery coat and carelessly threw it aside before walking up to the fire, staring into its flames.

Esmyra sat perfectly still as she observed the king.

Her anger brewed at the sight of him standing there, unguarded and entirely alone.

It would be easy to kill him—nothing, really.

It would barely even take half a thought.

But he held what was most important to her, the only family she had, and if she killed him in this moment, there was a chance she would never find a way to free her father—not with those velsinyte cells in play.

“Highness,” she greeted, her voice smooth as velvet.

The king stiffened, his body slowly pivoting to face her as she remained sitting at his desk in the dark. Esmyra lifted a hand and gave him a dainty wave.

“Who are you?” he demanded, voice booming. “If you’re here for a cock to suck, you will need to leave. The castle was under attack tonight, and I have no interest in entertaining a common whore in my bed.”

Esmyra tsked in disgust as she stood. “No need for such nasty words, King,” she said, her tone gentle but firm as she watched his stare drift to the door, likely ready to call for his men. “I’m not here for your cock…though if you keep this up, I may just pin it to the wall.”

His jaw ticked as she took a confident step toward him.

“However, I’m not here to provide entertainment, either,” she continued. “And you will not call for your guards that stand just beyond your door.”

The king’s sharp gaze narrowed on her, suspicion etched into every line of his face. “Who are you? How did you get in here?”

She stepped closer, the glow of the fire catching the strands of her dark hair as her lips curled into a knowing grin. “My name is Esmyra,” she said simply. “And I’m here because we both hold something the other wants.”

He barked out a harsh laugh. “And what exactly is it that you think I want, Esmyra ?” he spat her name as if it brought his tongue a bitter taste.

Esmyra tilted her head, her eyes shimmering in the firelight as she took another step forward. “Power over the realm. Wealth greater than any kingdom. And perhaps… your son returned to you?”

Liquid fire lit in the king’s stare, and for a moment, she wondered who the phoenix in the royal family truly was.

“My son?” he growled.

He pivoted to face the door, but she was in front of him in an instant.

Her voice lowered to a seductive whisper, laced with her magic, as she gazed into his frantic eyes.

“Perhaps I should’ve introduced myself properly a moment ago.

My name is Esmyra Blackwood , and I have come to retrieve my father.

You will not call for your guards. You will remain as you are. ”

The king took a hesitant step back from her as he gazed into her shifting eyes, their glow casting across his stout face. “Blackwood has a daughter?”

His eyes looked her up and down curiously, and then he took a step into her, catching her off guard.

“And if your eyes are any tell, a daughter with power. Extraordinary power, it seems—one believed to have been lost to our world. Now tell me, have I found the true beast of the deep that answers to Blackwood’s call? ”

Esmyra’s heart pounded against her ribs, each thump echoing in her ears, as she desperately tried to use her compulsion on the king.

Her magic reached out again, trying to grip his mind, but it was like water slipping through her fingers or trying to hold air.

No matter how aggressively her power lashed out at him, it wouldn’t work.

The man remained entirely normal—alert and knowing, refusing to fall under her spell.

It had never occurred before, and something she certainly wasn’t prepared for.

The king lifted his hand directly before her face. A ring carved from stone adorned his middle finger. Her heart sank with dread when she realized what it was.

A ring of velsinyte.

“How—” she stuttered, but he cut her off.