Chapter 30: All This Drama, and I Haven’t Even Had Dessert

“Well,” I said sweetly, “isn’t this cozy? Elyndor and Myrrin. We can do this the easy way or the bloody way. Elyndor, darling, if you’ve allied yourself with Virelia—no, better yet, with Princess Lyra—you already know what they say I can do. Or at least what the gossip says I am. So unless you’d like me to twist this pretty doll’s head right off her shoulders, I’d recommend you start talking.”

“Elf bastard,” Myrrin spat, her voice as perpetually pissed-off as ever. “Don’t you dare say a word to this snake.”

“Oh, come now, Myrrin,” I purred, tightening my grip on Aelith just enough to make her gasp. “Don’t be such a wet blanket. Let’s chat a little before the blood starts spraying. Or better yet, why don’t you run along and tell Lyra to find someone else to obsess over? I’m honestly getting tired of her fixation on me. Though—” I tilted my head with a wicked smile, “I do understand. I am probably the most beautiful woman alive. These curves? Scandalous.”

Her nostrils flared like a bull ready for slaughter. “You wretched harpy. Keep running that mouth. I can’t wait for the day I drive a stake through you, top to bottom.”

“Myrrin,” Elyndor snapped, sounding horrified. “No! That wasn’t the deal!”

But pint-sized rage was already shaking with fury. “To hell with the deal! I don’t care about the elf girl—kill her!”

Ah, perfect. Nothing like a hot-headed assassin throwing subtlety out the window.

Except then… the doors burst open.

“Enough!” A voice rang out, feminine and enchanting, the kind that dripped with honey and fairy dust.

I groaned out loud. “Oh, fantastic. Just what I needed. As if my life wasn’t complicated enough already.”

Lyra.

The Princess of Veloria. The jewel of her kingdom, adored, feared, and despised in equal measure. Long hair that trailed nearly to the floor, a gown so decadent it could have ransomed a thousand slaves, and that smug, knowing smile that made me want to claw her perfect face.

“Rissa, darling,” she sang, her tone so sweet it curdled in my ears. “How long it has been. I’ve heard endless stories about you since the day you fled the palace. I’ve missed you terribly. Why don’t you come back to me?”

Behind her, Myrrin actually snorted, arms crossed, jaw tight. For once, she kept her mouth shut.

“Lyra,” I said, flashing teeth like a wolf. “As you can see, I’m already occupied. This gorgeous elf happens to enjoy being grabbed by the throat—don’t ask, it’s a kink thing. So, no, I can’t come crawling back to you. You see, I’m with someone else now.” I leaned into Aelith’s ear, smirking. “Sorry, sunshine, we’re official now.”

It was petty. It was acidic. It was absolutely the stupidest possible thing to say to a princess who could have me executed in three syllables. And I enjoyed every second of it.

Lyra’s laugh rippled through the hall, graceful and amused. “Ah, Rissa. I always knew I could never keep you to myself.” She tilted her head, eyes glittering like sharpened glass. “But sometimes we must do things we don’t like. Don’t make this more difficult. Let the elf go and come with me. She doesn’t matter. Kill her if you wish.”

I felt Aelith stiffen in my arms. A sharp pinch in my waist—subtle, but clear.

Yes, sunshine, I thought, I know. If you truly were “nobody,” they wouldn’t all be sweating bullets right now.

I flicked my gaze at her, just enough to let her see my smirk, the silent promise that I understood. I knew exactly how valuable she was. And I wasn’t about to give that card up so easily.

“Look, Lyra,” I said, shifting Aelith just enough to keep her coughing prettily, “I know the elves of Liraen aren’t exactly the movers and shakers of the world. Politically speaking, you’re small fish in a very large pond. And with this… charmingly useless scrap of leadership you’ve got—” I flicked my chin toward Elyndor, “—well, I’ve seen it firsthand. The only elves worth worrying about are the ones from Xytherra. Gods help us all if they ever decide to meddle in human affairs. Am I right?”

Lyra didn’t flinch. Poker face. No denial, no agreement. Just that eternal smile plastered across her lips. Which, of course, told me I’d hit the bullseye.

And then her voice—silken, but with that tremor of anger slipping through the cracks. “Rissa. I am growing tired of your whims. You are mine. My precious weapon. The blade that will cut this rotting world into pieces. Mine and no one else’s. If I must sever every limb on your body to keep you at my side, I will. Don’t test me.”

“Oh, finally,” I drawled, delighted. “There she is. The real Lyra. See, this version? I’d marry. Though, sweetheart, you might want to invite me to dinner before you start chopping off arms and legs. It’s traditional.”

Her mask slipped further, the predator peeking out. “Fighting you is a waste of time, Rissa. I know you could slaughter half this hall if even a fraction of what I’ve heard is true. That you’ve… started to control your power. But I also can’t sit idly by and wait for you to grow stronger. That would be a problem. Which is why I spent years studying you. Learning you. Finding the one thread that binds you. Your mouth may be reckless, but your weakness… is the people you care about.”

I gave her my best wolf grin. “Guilty. I do have a heart—black, rotted, dripping with worms, but it’s in there somewhere. But guess what? Before you barged in, I already teleported my little puppies far, far away. Well out of reach. So… now what?”

Lyra’s smile didn’t falter. That was worse than if she’d snarled. “Now? Nothing. As I said, you’ll come to me eventually. I only came here for this moment. To watch your face when I said what I needed to say.”

I didn’t understand the game, not entirely. But I knew one thing—if I was a snake, Lyra was the queen of vipers. And she was coiling tighter.

“Margo,” she purred. The name slid from her tongue like poison. Her smile went lascivious, cruel.

I held my expression steady, a perfect poker face. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Not a blink, not a crack. But inside? The fire caught. Now, I was angry.

“Let’s go,” Lyra commanded.

And just like that, she turned. Every soldier of the Holy Order followed. Even Myrrin, snapping at her heels like a rabid dog on a leash. They all walked out, as if this were merely intermission.

I released Aelith gently, dusting off her gown like the perfect gentleman. Of course, I hadn’t truly hurt her; we’d both been playing our parts—me, the monster, her, the delicate damsel. We both knew the rules.

But now? Now the real game was beginning. The elves were going to tell me everything. And Lyra? Oh, sweet, venomous Lyra. She thought she’d pulled me onto her chessboard. She had no idea I was about to flip the whole damned table.