Chapter 49

The corridors of the palace were silent at this hour, the flickering torchlight casting long, shifting shadows across the polished marble floors. Aeliana moved carefully, her silk robe whispering against her skin as she walked. She had dismissed her attendants for the night, preferring solitude. The weight of the evening's victory still lingered in her thoughts, a quiet triumph-but also a warning.

She had exposed Lord Saryon, forced him into a corner before the court. That alone had been dangerous. But it wasn't just Saryon who had taken notice. There were others, watching from the dark, calculating what her presence meant.

And some had decided she had gone too far.

Aeliana turned a corner, heading toward her chambers, when she felt it-a presence. The air behind her shifted, too slight for the untrained to notice, but she had learned to be wary in this place. She froze for a fraction of a second, then pivoted just as something cold and sharp slashed through the air where her throat had been.

The dagger missed by a hair's breadth.

Adrenaline surged through her, her body moving before her mind caught up. She stumbled backward, barely dodging a second strike. The figure before her was clad in black, their face obscured by a mask, their movements swift and merciless. This was not a warning. This was an execution.

Aeliana had no time to think. The assassin lunged again, blade gleaming in the dim light, aiming for her ribs. She twisted, grabbing a nearby candelabrum from the wall and swinging it instinctively. The heavy brass struck the assassin's shoulder with a sickening crack, forcing them back.

They hesitated. Aeliana saw it-the briefest flicker of surprise. They had expected her to be helpless.

Rage flared in her chest.

She was not helpless.

The assassin recovered quickly, coming at her again, this time feinting low before slashing upward. Aeliana barely avoided the strike, the blade grazing her arm, a hot sting spreading across her skin. She hissed but refused to falter.

They moved in a deadly rhythm-strike, dodge, counter. Aeliana's breath came in sharp gasps, her heart hammering. She was losing ground, her body tiring, but she refused to die like this.

Not in a hallway. Not in the dark.

With a desperate burst of strength, she feigned a stumble, drawing the assassin closer. The moment they moved in for the kill, she struck-driving the broken edge of the candelabrum into their side. The assassin let out a sharp, muffled grunt, staggering back.

Blood.

She had hurt them.

For a moment, the masked figure wavered, their breathing ragged. Aeliana prepared to strike again, to finish it-

But then, they were gone.

A flicker of movement, a twist of shadow, and the assassin vanished into the darkness of the palace.

Aeliana stood frozen, her chest rising and falling, her arm bleeding onto the cold floor.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Then-

Heavy footfalls. A rush of movement.

And suddenly, Tharx was there.

She had seen him angry before, had witnessed the quiet menace in his voice when dealing with traitors, the calculated cruelty in his punishments.

But she had never seen this.

His golden eyes blazed, wild and furious, scanning the hall, the darkness, her torn sleeve, the blood. His jaw clenched so tightly she thought it might crack.

"Who?" His voice was low, raw, barely restrained.

Aeliana swallowed, steadying herself. "Masked. Fast. Trained." She exhaled shakily. "I wounded them, but they escaped."

Tharx's expression did not change, but the temperature in the corridor seemed to drop.

The torches flickered violently, casting his shadow long against the walls as he turned to the guards who had arrived behind him.

"Seal the palace," he ordered, his voice sharp as a blade. "No one leaves. I want the assassin found now."

The guards scrambled into action, disappearing down the halls. Aeliana could still feel his fury pressing against her, suffocating in its intensity.

But then-

His hands were on her.

Not rough, not brutal, but urgent. His fingers brushed against her wound, his thumb trailing over the blood on her arm. She tensed, expecting cold detachment, but when he looked at her again, his mask had shattered.

For the first time, Tharx did not bother to conceal the sheer, unfiltered rage in his eyes.

"You could have died," he said, and there was something dangerous in his voice-not toward her, but for whoever had dared to do this.

Aeliana had no answer to that.

She had known there would be consequences for stepping into the court's power struggles, but this this was something else.

She had nearly been murdered in the halls of the palace.

A place that was supposed to be safe.

Her hands trembled before she clenched them into fists. "They don't just want me gone," she whispered, realization settling like ice in her chest. "They want me dead."

Tharx's gaze did not waver. "They're afraid of what you might become."

Aeliana's breath caught.

Not just an obstacle. Not just an inconvenience.

A threat.

She had always known the court was dangerous, but she had underestimated how quickly it would turn against her.

Tharx exhaled, his grip tightening on her wrist, grounding her. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, but no less deadly.

"They made a mistake," he murmured. "They failed."

There was something final in the way he said it.

And Aeliana knew-whoever had sent that assassin would not live to try again.

The palace burned with quiet violence in the hours that followed.

Tharx's orders had been swift, merciless. His interrogations left no room for hesitation. The guards dragged nobles and servants alike into questioning chambers, their faces pale with fear. No one was safe from scrutiny.

Aeliana watched from the shadows as the court trembled beneath his wrath.

This was no mere punishment.

This was a lesson.

She was no longer just a woman in Tharx's palace.

She was a force worth killing.

And that meant she was a force worth fearing.