Page 30 of Sweet Venom Of Time (Blade of Shadows #6)

“Are you sure this will work?” Winston’s ponderous voice dragged through the room like something dead being pulled through the streets. “He’s stopped every trap we’ve set for him.”

Doubt.

His skepticism was a burden I had neither time nor patience for.

I did not hesitate. “Certainty is a luxury we cannot afford,” I said, my voice an edge of steel wrapped in velvet.

I had to project confidence and sell the lie as truth.

“But mark my words, he won’t pass this by. He will be there.”

I let the certainty settle, let it dig into their doubt like a parasite.

“He wants to stay abreast of the Harbingers of Temporal Terror.”

At the mention of their society’s name, I saw the faintest twitch in Lord Winston’s expression—pride, greed, anticipation.

I held his gaze—unyielding.

Lord Alexander, ever the grand puppeteer of his sick theater, grinned.

A grin that could curdle blood.

“And they shall all be witnesses,” he declared, his voice ripe with amusement as he turned toward Winston.

My stomach twisted.

Something was coming.

Something worse.

“When I announce your betrothal and elevate you as my successor, Phineas.”

Silence.

A slow, thick, suffocating silence.

Then—Lord Winston’s lips stretched into a twisted parody of joy.

“I can hardly wait,” he wheezed, the air souring around him, thick with his perverse satisfaction.

The edges of my vision blurred. Elizabeth.

This was their game.

Their twisted, rotting plan.

“To display my beautiful bride and finally capture the Black Wraith.”

His clouded, milky eyes gleamed with disgusting glee.

“We’ll torture him before the society—no, before all the societies!”

Lord Winston’s breath rattled, his ravenous anticipation thickening the air. “It shall be a spectacle to remember!”

I did not flinch.

I remained still.

A statue shaped from flesh and bone.

They spoke of me. Planned my demise. They wove their intricate web of death without realizing their target sat right before them.

“Elizabeth will prepare a powerful poison…”

Her father’s voice slithered through the room, each syllable drenched in smug certainty.

“Something from her mother’s teachings. We’ll use it on him once he’s captured. Let it rot him slowly—from the inside out.”

Rebellion surged through me, icy and honed, like steel drawn in silence.

“A poison fit to kill a god.”

Alexander’s lips curled in malice.

“The Black Wraith will beg for death long before it comes—and we’ll be there to witness every second.”

A pause.

Then, the final nail in their wretched plan.

“I have also invited Mathias Alistair to witness this event.”

Mathias.

The name hung in the air like a curse.

A slow, bone-deep shiver crept down my spine.

The room felt suddenly smaller.

The walls seemed to inch closer, the weight of his name suffocating.

Mathias’ arrival would complicate matters significantly—a new variable in a game where I was already balancing on a knife’s edge.

I could not afford his attendance.

I could not afford this trap tightening around me.

But before I could fully absorb the gravity of this revelation?—

The door creaked open.

A servant entered, head bowed, shoulders tight with unease.

“Lord Alexander, I have news.”

The quiet tremor in his voice slithered through the chamber, setting every nerve on edge.

Lord Alexander’s gaze snapped toward the messenger, his lips peeling back in a snarl.

“What is it?”

A beat.

Then—

“We have received word that all your hideouts have been destroyed.”

The words dropped like stones into a still lake.

A slow, suffocating silence swallowed the room.

Then—

Lord Alexander’s face twisted, the slow shift from scorn to unbridled fury morphing him into something truly monstrous.

His fist slammed onto the desk, quills and parchments scattering like fallen soldiers.

The room rattled with the force of his fury.

A guttural roar tore from his throat, shaking the walls of his decaying empire.

Beside him, Lord Winston lurched to his feet, his bloated body swaying precariously, his jowls quivering as if the foundations of his world had been uprooted.

His voice rose in blind panic, full of rage and disbelief.

“How!” he bellowed, his spittle flying into the stagnant air. “How did this happen?”

The servant, already trembling beneath their scrutiny, stammered through his panic, his forehead slick with sweat.

“They were caught off guard, my lord,” he stuttered. “The attackers knew precisely where to strike… The men who stood watch—perished. Every last one of them. There was no one left alive.”

The room thickened with silence.

Death had come for them, swift and absolute.

A cruel satisfaction twisted deep in my gut.

My men had done their work.

Ruthless. Precise. Efficient.

Lord Alexander’s breathing came heavy, his nostrils flaring like a beast poised to charge.

Then, he faced me, his eyes frigid and unflinching, slicing through the tension like steel.

“Lord Hassan, I must leave,” he muttered, his tone all edges and finality.

He turned, boots striking the stone.

“Phineas. With me.”

His cloak billowed behind him, his movements driven by fury and desperation, the wretched bulk of Lord Winston tottering in his wake.

And just like that?—

They were gone.

Alone at last, I allowed myself a moment of grim pleasure.

Their empire was crumbling—brick by venom-soaked brick.

And I had laid the foundation for its ruin.

But I had no time to relish their downfall.

Now, I needed to slip away.

I must secure the Noctyss flower from Elizabeth’s alchemy cottage—before she unknowingly placed a dagger at her throat.

Before her poison could find its way into mine.

A brush with death by her hand was a fate I intended to avoid at all costs.

Without a backward glance, I strode from the room, my boots soundless against the plush carpet. The hunt had begun.

Each step carried me closer to the cottage.

Closer to the flower.

Closer to her.

The night air was crisp, coiling around me like an omen. Above, the stars watched, indifferent to the sins unfolding beneath them.

The cottage stood ahead, bathed in pale moonlight, its edges softened by shadows. The damp earth swallowed the sound of my approach, my movements as silent as the secrets that lingered in the air.

Through the window, I saw her.

Elizabeth.

She moved with a fluid grace, her hands gliding over vials and beakers with effortless meticulousness.

A siren among potions.

And for a fleeting moment, I was merely a man ensnared by her beauty.

But time was a unyielding master.

And I was no fool.

Without hesitation, I burst through the door.

The impact shattered the stillness, sending a jolt of surprise through her slender frame. A gasp escaped her lips, and a vial slipped from her fingers, shattering against the wood floor in a cascade of glittering fragments.

She whipped around, wide-eyed, her chest rising and falling in quick succession.

“Oh, Lord Hassan, you frightened me.”

Her voice trembled, betraying the force of her surprise.

“How did you find this place?”

I stepped forward, with quiet dominance.

“Your father told me,” I said smoothly, my gaze flicking over the room, searching—hunting.

Where was it?

The Noctyss.

I let my eyes linger on her, feigning curiosity as my hands grazed over the cluttered wooden worktables.

“So, I see you’re still going to join the society,” I mused, tilting my head slightly as if amused by her reckless ambition. “Still determined to become an alchemist.”

Her chin lifted in a silent challenge—defiance woven into elegance.

But I was already moving, prowling through the space like a hunter in a gilded cage. The room was a maze of glass and shadow, the air thick with the scent of herbs and something darker—something more potent.

And then?—

There it was.

The Noctyss.

Sealed in a glass container, resting among an array of innocuous flora. Untouched from the last time I’d seen it. Unassuming. Deadly.

I lifted the Noctyss flower into the candlelight, slowly turning the sealed glass container in my hand.

The inky petals gleamed, their edges tinged with an unnatural iridescence, shimmering like something pulled from the depths of an abyss.

“My, my,” I murmured, feigning ignorance, the weight of the moment pressing between us.

Elizabeth moved with the same fluid elegance as the melodies I played upon my harpsichord.

Deadly. Controlled. It was a calculated step in our unspoken game.

She closed the distance swiftly, her gaze locked onto the prize in my hand.

“Lord Hassan, may I please have the flower?” Her voice was smooth, but there was an undercurrent of urgency she could not quite conceal. “It is rare and delicate, and I want to ensure its safety.”

I tilted my head, watching her, studying her.

“It seems we have returned to formalities, Lady Alexander,” I mused. “If I remember correctly, we once shared a passionate kiss, and you called me by my first name.”

Her composure faltered, if only for a moment.

Then—she stiffened.

“That was a mistake, Lord Hassan.”

A tremor laced her voice, though she fought to mask it.

“I don’t know what came over me that day, but I assure you it won’t happen again. Now, please, may I have the flower back?”

Lies.

Her words were deliberate, yet her demeanor betrayed her.

Her swift, instinctive movements.

The way her fingers flexed—not just with desperation, but something deeper.

Something she refused to acknowledge.

Our stolen kiss meant more to her than she dared admit.

I let the moment drag on, my gaze lingering on her, my silence speaking louder than words.

Then—a slow, knowing smirk.

“Apologies, my lady,” I murmured, my tone polite yet laced with mock amusement.

But my true interest had shifted.

As my eyes roamed the cluttered wooden table, they landed on something more intriguing.

A book.

The Sacred Alchemy of Solaris: Secrets of the Celestial Forge.

The title alone sent a ripple of intrigue through me. It was time for another peek.

Without hesitation, I hurriedly plucked it from the table, flipping through its pages.

Elizabeth reacted instantly.

She stepped around, reaching for it, but I shifted my grip, holding it just out of her reach, amusement curling at the corners of my lips.

“Lord Hassan, return the book to me,” she demanded, her voice firmer now—a thread of real frustration bleeding through her carefully composed mask.

I ran my fingers along the worn edges of the cover, my curiosity piqued.

“Hmm, it seems quite intriguing to me,” I mused. “I’ve never seen one like it before,” I lied.

Elizabeth’s breath hitched—not from frustration, but something more.

A flicker of fear.

She knew this book was no ordinary text.

It was dangerous. Secretive. Forbidden.

Her fingers clenched.

Then—she abandoned formality entirely.

“Please, Amir,” she whispered, urgency crackling between us. “Give me back my book. It belongs to our society. It’s not meant for you.”

A slow smirk curled at my lips.

“Hmm. You called me Amir. How forward of you.”

I let the weight of my name settle between us, watching as realization flickered in her eyes.

She was slipping.

She was unraveling.

And she knew it.

I flashed her a mischievous grin. “I must insist on being addressed by my first name from now on.”

Her lips pressed into a firm line, determination burning behind her gaze.

“Give it to me, Amir. Its secrets are dangerous.”

Dangerous?

She didn’t know the half of it.

But I couldn’t resist the game.

“Oh, love. Now you care about me and how deadly this book is?” My voice dipped, laced with amusement. “Yesterday, you wanted to murder me. What are you going to do if I don’t return it? Kill me?”

The space between us shrank, charged with unspoken desire.

With every lunge she made to retrieve the book, our dance grew more perilous.

My power surged.

Shadows coiled. Darkness obeyed.

I vanished in the blink of an eye—only to reappear across the room.

Elizabeth stumbled, reaching out—but I was already gone.

A cloud of dark mist curled around my form, shifting through the dimly lit space as I moved effortlessly between the shadows.

Each time she reached for me, I was elsewhere.

Each time she grew close, I disappeared.

Elizabeth’s brow furrowed, her breath shallow as she spun to find me again.

“How are you doing that?” she asked, her voice tinged with awe and disbelief.

I gave her a slow smile.

Then—I vanished again.

She spun around, breath catching, frustration simmering beneath her skin. Her pulse thundered.

When I reappeared, her voice trembled—cracked with weariness.

“Amir… please. Give me back my book.”

Her hands reached for me.

“I beg of you.”

The desperation in her eyes and the unguarded urgency in her voice sent a flicker of satisfaction through me.

Our little game reached its crescendo.

She lunged again—this time, with more force.

Her body pressed against mine, heat searing through the fabric between us, her breath tangled with mine.

The contact was a spark to dry kindling.

A fire ignited in my veins, dark and unrelenting.

Yet—just as quickly as she touched me, I was gone.

The shadows obeyed, slipping me away from her grasp as I reappeared across the room, the book still in hand.

“Amir, please stop!”

Her voice broke, frustration spilling into exhaustion.

“It’s been a long and tiring day.”

The pleading echoed in my ears, laced with something deeper than weariness—a frayed edge to her resolve.

But still, I could not escape the magnetic pull between us.

We collided in a tangle of limbs and unspoken desires, the fight dissolving into something far more dangerous.

Then—we fell.

The world tilted beneath us, and suddenly, she was atop me, her breath shallow, her luscious form pressing down against mine.

A jolt shot through me—raw, electric, darkly intoxicating.

Too close. Too warm. Too much.

The fire between us crackled in the air, unresolved, scorching, waiting to be consumed.

“Alright,” I relented, my breath uneven, the proximity searing through my senses like an open flame.

Slowly, I surrendered the book, my fingers lingering a fraction too long against hers.

A hesitation.

A silent confession in touch alone.

I helped her up, though my hands were reluctant to let go.

She straightened, adjusting herself, but my gaze had already fallen elsewhere.

The Noctyss flower.

An opportunity. A risk. A prize.

With a sleight of hand honed by years of deception, I plucked the delicate, deadly bloom and slipped it into the folds of my cloak.

She wouldn’t notice.

Not yet.

“I won’t bother you anymore, love,” I murmured, stepping back toward the door, my voice smooth, easy—a lie dressed as reassurance.

Each step was heavy with the weight of untruths.

This was not our last encounter.

It could never be.

Our fates were bound too tightly, our desires too dangerously entwined.

With the poison secured, I stepped into the night, leaving behind a storm of emotions that raged as fierce as any tempest.

But the truth was torturous.

I couldn’t get Elizabeth Alexander out of my mind.