Red Wedding, Pt. 3

The figure was already waiting. Human. Armed. Entirely out of place, and certainly not a guest.

And then, the moment they saw her—

"Oh, thank God, you sensed my Aura. Good, good."

Elisa’s stomach tightened.

This wasn’t a test.

They were expecting her.

The assassin’s eyes darted behind her, scanning the banquet hall below. Their fingers twitched, just barely.

“Do I know you?”

Elisa kept her stance steady, her fingers resting lightly on the balcony railing. The assassin hesitated, searching her face—looking for something.

Then, with a sharp breath, they reached up, undoing the ties of their cowl.

The fabric fell away, revealing a face Elisa hadn’t seen in years.

Wide, familiar eyes. A scar across her brow that hadn’t been there before.

"It’s Pauline!"

The one who had forged the dagger with her.

The one who had stood beside her and Uriel, working late into the night, whispering plans, strategies, what-ifs.

The one who had been there when it all started.

Oh, shit.

"How… how did you get past the guards?"

Pauline scoffed, crossing her arms. "What, you don’t think I was smart enough to bribe some demons?"

Elisa frowned.

"It was easy," Pauline continued. "If they can come out ahead, anything’s game. Even selling out info on their leader for a measly few gold."

"You’re lucky none of them were covert spies sniffing out assassination plots."

Pauline rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. They’re probably more concerned about their fellow demonkin than a couple of scheming humans. Arrogant pricks. Some allies they make."

“Why are you here?"

She took a step closer. "I’m here because your Aura Device was spiking like a damn siren. Whatever’s happening, it has to end here and now. To hell with the plan if you die."

Then, her voice dropped lower, harsher. "He laid his hands on you, didn’t he?"

"I…"

"Where is the blade?"

Elisa’s pulse stuttered.

"We can finally end this part of the family line once and for all."

Her fingers twitched.

Where was the blade, indeed?

Where was she, in these five years?

The answer should have been simple.

Say it. Say something.

But all that came out was air.

Pauline’s face twisted with frustration. "Elisa, please. We are running out of--"

"The blade was used on me."

…

“Fuck. Shit, Elisa. I… Gods…”

She squashed creases onto her face. “Godsdamn it all!”

Elisa exhaled slowly, trying to keep her own emotions in check. "I don’t remember the last five years. When I woke up, he said he found me lying on the bathroom floor with the Blade lodged in me."

Pauline’s head snapped up.

"He’s lying, obviously!"

Elisa flinched at the sheer certainty in her voice.

Pauline took a sharp step forward, eyes blazing. "Nobody else knew of its existence but me and Daniel! No one else saw the process of it even being made! And you’re telling me that somehow, five years into your stay with the Blac’hils, someone just happened to find it? No. He found out. And he used it on you. You should have figured this out the moment you woke up!"

Elisa’s stomach tightened.

The logic made sense.

But something about it was wrong.

"Why would go through the trouble of keeping me alive after the fact?" Elisa’s voice came out steadier than she felt. "Why not just kill me?"

Pauline let out a sharp, humorless laugh.

"You know how undead are. How the Blac’hils are. They love to torture for the fun of it, just like how the invasions were for the fun of it. To assuage themselves of their own self-importance."

She doesn’t know, though.

Elisa had no proof that Kael wasn’t the one who did it. How could she?

Every rational thought screamed that Pauline was right. Kael had the blade. Kael was the only one who could have found it.

Manipulated her. Told her the marriage and their young and budding relationship was indeed all sunshine and rainbows.

But—

Somewhere, in the deepest part of her mind, she knew.

The servants didn’t act like he was.

The court didn’t act like he was.

The memory she didn’t have told her he wasn’t the one.

But that didn’t matter to Pauline.

"It can’t have been. There's more to it than that."

Pauline let out a sharp breath. "So you’re telling me there’s a betrayer in our circle? What a load of—"

She scoffed. "Elisa, you are clearly not alright. A blade like that would cripple anybody. Either way, it doesn’t matter. It defeats the point."

Her eyes darkened. "We are killing him and getting out of here. After all he did, you deserve that, at least. It will be another Blac’hil curse, we get out safely, and the Concordant will come into fight on our behalf. No worries."

"I don’t think it’s a good idea right now."

Pauline’s jaw clenched. "No shit. When is it ever?"

She stepped closer. "We don’t have the luxury of picking and choosing when to kill the Count—only if we can. And that time is now. Go get the Blade. I can re-enchant it. Weaker, but should do the job once I lace some more of it with poison."

Elisa hesitated. "You can’t. He’s left the castle. Emergency business."

Pauline’s lips curled into a thin, humorless smile.

"I know."

Elisa’s stomach dropped.

Pauline took her time with the next words, savoring them.

"We staged a blockade."

Elisa’s breath hitched.

"Nobody is getting in or out until he returns. And when he does—we scatter. This will buy us enough time."

\\

The trip was quick.

Didn’t need to scout for long when the moonlight illuminated the smoke so clearly.

Kael’s boots hit the dirt, the scent of burned fur and iron thick.

A grisly scene.

Werewolves—torn apart, left in undignified heaps. Their bodies still smoldering from whatever magic had been used against them. Demonkin of Kael’s employ, lying in a heap with the rest of them. Looked to be an explosion of sorts. Magical, judging from the hue of the blast.

He had heard of many such devices in the Concordant invented by those places of learning and innovation during the lull period in the Demon-Humanoid conflict.

His jaw tightened.

The attack must have been violent. Quick.

And yet—

The human bride was still alive.

She knelt in the dirt, her white ceremonial attire stained dark, her hands trembling over the body of her fallen fiancé.

She didn’t sob. Didn’t scream.

She just stared.

Frozen, like the moment had swallowed her whole.

Kael stepped closer, his voice even but flailing a little. "What... happened?"

She didn’t react immediately.

“I saw them. They were humans. They thought they were slick, the bastards.”

"Tell me. Everything."

The bride swallowed, eyes flickering over the bodies, the broken ground, the wreckage of what was meant to be a simple passage.

"Had hoped to remain inconspicuous, so we took the long way. Doesn’t help we were the only ones coming from the south. We saw the smoke first, thought it was a campfire—then suddenly, there were arrows, spells, and the carriages tipped over. We barely had time to react."

Kael’s gaze darkened. "And they left you alive?"

“We took a lot with us. But it seemed so fast, and there were no gashes. They were covered with magic, the corpses. Like collateral damage.” She let out a shaky breath. "I wasn’t supposed to be in the front. They didn’t know I was here. I only survived because—"

Her voice hitched.

"Because he shielded you."

She didn’t nod. Didn’t need to.

Her hands clenched into blood-streaked fabric.

"He loved me."

A political marriage—one that, against all odds, had been real to her.

And now…

Kael stood, looking out toward the darkened road ahead.

"We need to move. Before more of them come for us."

The bride finally looked up.

Her face was raw and red and streaked with the essence of loss, but behind it—

Was a fury.