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Chapter 64 – The Breach That Wasn't
The night air over the north gate was knife-sharp, biting at Elira's cheeks as she and Kairo crossed the inner yard. Torches flared along the wall, but no alarms were sounding—not the kind of breach that sent soldiers scrambling.
Yet Lysander was already there. He stood near the gate tower with two sentries, his cloak drawn tight, his expression perfectly composed. Only the glint in his eyes betrayed that this meeting wasn't as urgent as he claimed.
"My lord," Lysander said smoothly as Kairo approached, "we have a problem."
Kairo didn't slow. "Show me."
The sentries stepped aside, revealing a section of the outer wall where the stone had been blackened by fire. Not breached—not even damaged enough to weaken it—but scarred. A torch had been set deliberately against the masonry, and then left to burn out.
"Someone tested the defenses," Lysander said. "Again."
"Not someone," Kairo corrected sharply, crouching to examine the soot. "This was staged. Whoever lit this fire wanted us to see it."
"Vale?" one of the sentries asked nervously.
Kairo ignored him, his gaze sweeping to Lysander. "Where were the watchmen?"
"Rotated off schedule," Lysander replied without missing a beat. "A gap I didn't authorize."
Elira stood slightly behind Kairo, forcing herself to remain silent even as her thoughts raced. He's setting the board, she realized. If Kairo questioned the gap too hard, Lysander could claim incompetence among the watch—and turn suspicion elsewhere.
Kairo straightened. "Double the guard," he ordered curtly. "No one passes this wall tonight. If there's another gap, I'll deal with it personally."
"Yes, my lord," Lysander said, giving a crisp bow. But his eyes slid briefly to Elira, cool and sharp, as though weighing whether she'd speak out here and now.
She didn't. Not yet.
As Kairo turned away, Elira caught a glint of something wedged between the stones—a small fragment of parchment, half-burned. She stooped to retrieve it before anyone noticed. The edges were scorched, but the emblem on it was unmistakable: the wolf and vine.
Kairo saw it too, but Lysander was already speaking, drawing his attention away. "This is escalating. Whoever's doing this is inside the walls. I recommend you start looking inward, my lord."
The words were casual, but the implication was clear. He's pointing at me, Elira thought grimly.
Kairo didn't answer immediately. He slipped the burned scrap into his coat as if it were nothing important and gave only a cold nod. "I'll handle it."
Lysander inclined his head slightly, hiding a faint smile, then turned back to the sentries.
As Kairo and Elira walked away from the gate, she spoke low enough for only him to hear. "He's moving faster than we thought. He wants you doubting everyone around you—starting with me."
Kairo's eyes were hard. "Then let him think he's winning. The higher he climbs, the further he'll fall."
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Kairo didn't speak until they were well clear of the north wall and back in the torchlit corridors of the inner keep. His expression gave nothing away, but Elira could feel the tension in his stride—the controlled, deliberate calm of a man calculating his next move.
In his study, he shut the door and barred it before pulling the burned scrap from his coat. "Same mark," he said, laying it flat on the table. "Wolf and vine."
Elira leaned closer, brushing soot from the edge. "It's not a message. It's a warning. They're telling you they're inside."
"Or they're telling me they think I'm blind," Kairo replied evenly. He reached for a decanter, poured water into a shallow dish, and pressed the parchment into it. Ink bled slowly through the scorch marks, revealing faint lines beneath the emblem—a set of numbers.
"Coordinates," Elira murmured.
"Storage vaults," Kairo confirmed. "Deep under the east wing. Few people even know they exist."
"Lysander does," Elira said.
Kairo looked up, eyes sharp. "Careful. If you keep repeating his name without evidence, it becomes suspicion, not truth. I can't act on suspicion."
"Then let me get you evidence," she said, voice firm. "He's already watching me. If I move first, I can make him slip."
"That's exactly what he wants," Kairo countered. "You disappear once tonight, he questions you openly next time. He makes you look guilty."
Elira straightened. "So what's your plan? Wait until he opens the gate himself?"
Kairo's jaw tightened, but he didn't snap. Instead, he unrolled a rough map of the keep and circled the vaults beneath the east wing. "We let him think this worked. I'll send him down there tomorrow under the pretext of an inspection. You'll follow—quietly."
"And if he brings allies?"
"Then we see them too." Kairo's gaze met hers, unwavering. "But you do not confront him. You do not draw a blade unless you have no choice. I want him alive long enough to tell me who's backing him."
Elira nodded reluctantly, though her gut twisted. If Lysander suspected this was a trap, he'd turn it back on them without hesitation.
As she turned to leave, Kairo caught her wrist briefly. His voice dropped low, almost soft. "Don't underestimate him, Elira. I have before."
She met his eyes, reading something unspoken there—regret, maybe, or warning deeper than words. Then he let go, and the steel returned to his posture.
"Get some rest," Kairo said. "Tomorrow, we start hunting."
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Lysander moved through the keep with the ease of a man who belonged everywhere and nowhere. His boots made no sound on the stone, his cloak blending into the deeper shadows of the eastern passage. He didn't head to his quarters. He went lower—past the council wing, past the barracks, into the half‑forgotten cellars beneath the east wing.
A single lantern burned in the far corner of the vault chamber. The scarred man from the night before was waiting, arms crossed.
"Well?" the man asked. "Did they take the bait?"
"They looked exactly where I wanted them to," Lysander replied, calm as always. He pulled off his gloves, flexing his fingers as though brushing off the night's conversation. "Kairo is cautious. He won't move without confirmation. But his suspicion's been planted—and Elira's already half‑snared."
The scarred man grinned. "You sure she heard enough?"
"She heard exactly what I wanted her to," Lysander said, kneeling beside a crate marked with the wolf‑and‑vine emblem. He pried the lid loose, checking the rows of black‑glass vials inside. "Kairo will send her to follow me tomorrow. That's when we tighten the net."
The scarred man frowned. "You're not worried she'll go straight to him?"
"I want her to," Lysander said, snapping the lid back in place. "The more she runs to him, the more he thinks she's being hunted. And when he finally acts, he'll expose himself—and anyone protecting him."
The scarred man shifted uneasily. "And if he catches you first?"
Lysander smiled faintly, a shadow curling at the edges of his expression. "Then we fall back to Vale's plan. But I'd rather take Kairo alive. He's more useful breathing."
He extinguished the lantern with a twist, plunging the chamber into darkness. Only the faint glimmer of torchlight from the passage showed his outline as he turned to leave.
"Be ready," he said softly. "Tomorrow, everything starts moving."
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