"Somewhere useful," Ophelia replied over her shoulder, her voice trailing back like a silken thread. "Somewhere she'll come. The guest chambers in the east wing."
As they navigated the winding passages, the sounds of chaos grew sharper. Bianca's suspicion bubbled over. "Are you sure this is a good place? We're heading right toward the heart of the guest wing."
Ophelia didn't slow down. Her answers were measured, each word a deliberate brick in the narrative she was building.
"Eris has a son, Bianca. Rael. With this level of chaos erupting, she won't stay to fight the mages or the guards. Maternal instinct is a predictable, powerful leash. She will come for him. She'll be vulnerable, distracted, and most importantly—alone."
A slow, predatory smile spread across Bianca's face. The logic was flawless. An ambush at the door of the nursery was the perfect trap.
