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Chapter 63 – Proof in the Dark
The council wing was still alive with muted voices when Elira slipped back into the upper corridors. Her cloak was streaked with dust from the cellars, her heartbeat still hammering from the chase. She couldn't let Kairo see her like this—not before she had the right words.
But she wasn't the only one moving quickly tonight. Two guards swept past her, their torches flaring in the narrow hall.
"Have you seen Lady Elira?" one asked. "Lord Kairo wants her in his study now."
Elira kept walking, nodding as though she'd just come from the lower quarters. "On my way there."
They hurried off, and she turned toward Kairo's study, forcing herself to breathe evenly. She needed to control this conversation, or it would turn into an interrogation.
Inside, the chamber was lit only by the low fire in the hearth. Maps littered the table, weighted with daggers and inkstones. Kairo stood behind the desk, his coat thrown over a chair, sleeves rolled to the elbows. He looked like a man who hadn't rested in days.
When she entered, his eyes snapped to hers, sharp as drawn steel.
"Where were you?" he demanded. No preamble, no greeting.
"I was checking the cellars," Elira said calmly, stepping into the glow of the fire. "You ordered doubled watch. I wanted to make sure no one was using the old passages."
Kairo's gaze narrowed. "Alone?"
"Yes."
"Convenient," he said, voice soft but dangerous. "Because Lysander just came from the lower gate swearing someone was down there meddling with the stores."
Elira kept her expression neutral, though her stomach knotted. So he's already moving to cover himself.
"Did he say who?" she asked.
"No." Kairo circled the desk, stopping close enough for her to feel the tension in his breath. "But he implied it wasn't an enemy."
Elira met his eyes steadily. "Then he's lying."
The silence between them stretched. Kairo's hand tightened on the edge of the desk. "Careful, Elira. That's an accusation."
"It's also true," she said. "I followed him tonight. He's working with whoever left that seal at the gate."
For a moment, there was no reaction—only the faint crackle of fire. Then Kairo stepped back, studying her like a man weighing whether to believe or destroy her.
"You have proof?"
"I heard him," Elira said. "In the cellars. Planning something. They want to force your hand, Kairo. And they don't care who burns in the process."
Kairo exhaled slowly, turning away to stare at the fire. His shoulders were rigid, but his voice, when it came, was calm. Too calm.
"If this is true," he said, "I can't move against him openly. Not yet."
"Then what do we do?"
Kairo looked back at her, and there was no mistaking the steel in his eyes now. "We watch. We let him think he's ahead. And when he makes his move…" A faint, cold smile touched his lips. "…we close the gate behind him."
Elira nodded, but the unease in her chest didn't ease. Lysander was already dangerous, and now he'd know someone had been in the passages. Which meant he'd start watching her just as closely.
And if she slipped, even once, he wouldn't hesitate to finish what he'd started.
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Elira left Kairo's study with her cloak pulled tight, her mind still running through every word they'd exchanged. He believed her—enough not to dismiss her outright. But belief wasn't proof, and without proof Kairo wouldn't risk destabilizing the council.
The corridors of the keep were quiet now, the hour deep enough that even the watch moved in subdued silence. Elira descended toward her quarters, but halfway down the stair she caught movement in the shadows below.
Lysander.
He was leaning casually against the wall as though waiting for someone, his composure perfect. "Long night," he said softly, voice carrying just enough to reach her without echoing.
Elira kept walking, her expression cool. "For everyone."
"I imagine Kairo wasn't pleased." His eyes glinted in the dim torchlight. "He doesn't like it when his people wander off alone."
She stopped two steps above him, tilting her head just slightly. "You sound like you're warning me."
"Consider it advice," Lysander said. He pushed off the wall with unhurried grace. "The keep is full of dangerous corners. Some of them… don't lead back to the surface."
Their eyes locked. For a heartbeat, no one moved. Elira felt the weight of his meaning—half threat, half test.
"I'll keep that in mind," she said evenly.
"Good." He smiled faintly, but there was no warmth in it. "We wouldn't want you getting lost."
He walked past her up the stair, his footsteps unhurried, his back exposed as though he didn't consider her a threat at all. Elira waited until he disappeared around the corner before letting out the breath she'd been holding.
If Lysander already suspected she'd been in the passages, then she had even less time than she thought. She couldn't just watch him—she had to find something tangible, something Kairo couldn't ignore.
Later that night, sleep refused to come. Elira sat at her small desk, sketching from memory the emblem on the crates: a wolf wreathed in iron vines. It didn't belong to Vale or any of the known houses loyal to him. It was older. Hidden.
And Lysander had access to it.
A knock at her door made her stiffen. Not loud, just two measured raps. When she opened it, no one was there—only a folded scrap of parchment lying on the floor.
She crouched and unfolded it carefully. A single line, written in Lysander's sharp hand:
You're not as quiet as you think.
Elira's pulse spiked. No signature. No threats. Just a reminder that he was already watching.
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Elira slipped the note into her cloak and left her quarters without lighting a lantern. The corridors were nearly empty at this hour, but she moved as though every shadow carried eyes.
Kairo's study door was still lit from within when she reached it. She didn't knock—just eased it open, knowing he'd be awake.
He looked up from a table littered with reports, his hair unbound, his coat thrown aside. "Again?" he said quietly, though his eyes sharpened at her expression. "What now?"
She crossed the room and set the folded note on the table. "This was at my door."
He opened it, scanning the single line. His jaw tightened. "Lysander."
"No one else writes like that," Elira said. "He knows I followed him tonight. He's warning me off."
Kairo's hand curled around the note until it crumpled. "Or he's baiting you to overreact."
"Either way," she said, "we don't have long before he makes his move. He's planning something fast, Kairo. I heard him say it himself."
Kairo studied her face for a long moment, weighing her words. Then he crossed to the wall, sliding open a concealed panel she hadn't seen before. Behind it, maps and coded ledgers were stacked in neat order.
"You're certain you weren't followed here?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Then we do this carefully." He spread a blank sheet on the table, drawing a quick sketch of the keep. "If Lysander suspects you, he'll start feeding false leads. Let him. We'll use his own game against him."
Elira frowned. "You're setting a trap?"
"I'm giving him something to reach for," Kairo said. "Something too tempting to ignore. When he takes it, we'll know who he's working with."
Elira leaned closer, voice low. "And if he moves before you're ready?"
"Then," Kairo said, meeting her gaze, "we make sure he never walks out of these walls."
A sharp knock broke the tense silence. Not the measured rhythm of a guard—this one urgent, insistent.
Kairo swept the map under a ledger and opened the door a crack. One of his sentries stood there, pale-faced.
"Lord Kairo," the man said, "Lysander's asking for you. He says it's urgent—something about a breach at the north gate."
Kairo shut the door slowly, his expression unreadable. "A breach. Convenient."
Elira felt her pulse spike. "It's a trap. He's trying to draw you out."
"Or test whether you've told me anything," Kairo murmured. He grabbed his coat and belt knife, motioning for her to follow. "Either way, we'll play along."
As they left the study, Elira caught the faintest shift of movement down the hall—a figure retreating into the shadows. Watching. Waiting.
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