Chapter 21: Between Blade and Heart
The storm still battered the windows of the council chamber, its howl a constant reminder of the chaos outside. Elias stood between the Regent and Isabella, sword in hand, but the real battle now was not with steel—it was with trust.
The Regent's gaze held him like a hook. "You've proved your worth, Elias. I cannot lead this realm without those who can see through shadows and strike when needed. Stand with me, and I will give you purpose beyond vengeance."
Her words were calculated, as if she had measured his soul and found the thread to pull. But Isabella's eyes, dark and unreadable, lingered on him in a way that made the air between them feel charged—dangerously so.
Elias knew the Regent's offer was more than an invitation; it was a binding chain. Once he accepted, every enemy of hers would be his, and every crime she committed would stain his hands.
He took a slow step forward. "If I stand with you, it's not for titles or gold. It's because this realm is bleeding, and I've seen too much of what happens when power is left to the wrong hands."
The Regent's lips curved, neither a smile nor a smirk. "Then perhaps we are alike after all."
Isabella's voice cut through the tension. "Or perhaps you're walking into the wolf's den willingly."
The Regent's eyes flicked to her, sharp as a drawn blade. "And yet, my dear Isabella, here you stand, still serving me after all these years. Why is that?"
For the briefest moment, something flickered across Isabella's face—something that might have been guilt. "Because some debts are paid in blood, not coin," she said quietly.
Elias filed that away. He wanted to ask her then and there what debt she owed, but this was not the place.
A distant horn blared through the storm. The Regent stiffened. "The southern envoy has arrived—unexpected and uninvited."
Her tone made it clear this was no mere diplomatic visit. She gestured to Elias. "You will accompany me. If they mean to threaten, I want you at my side when I remind them whose hall they stand in."
Isabella stepped closer to Elias, her hand brushing his wrist just long enough for him to feel the tremor there. "Watch her," she whispered so softly only he could hear. "And watch your back."
The great hall had been hastily cleared of feast tables, replaced with a long carpet leading to the dais. Torches blazed against the walls, casting flickering shadows that made the hall feel more like a battlefield than a place of diplomacy.
The envoy entered—a tall, severe man in crimson robes, his hair tied back, his eyes like cold iron. He bowed minimally to the Regent.
"Your Grace," he said in a voice that carried without effort, "the South brings warning. The rebellion is no longer confined to Bellmoor. If you continue your campaign, the southern lords will unite—not in your favor."
The Regent smiled as though he had told her the weather. "And if I were to step aside? Would your lords unite behind peace?"
The envoy's expression did not change. "They would unite behind a ruler who does not bleed the realm dry."
Murmurs swept the gathered court. Elias felt the tension building like a drawn bowstring. This was more than posturing—this was an open challenge to her rule.
"I have bled for this realm," the Regent said, her voice hardening. "Every drop I shed is one less the wolves will take."
The envoy took a step forward. "And yet you keep feeding them."
It was too much. The Regent's guards moved, but faster still was a figure darting from the side—blade drawn, aiming for the envoy's throat.
Elias moved on instinct. His sword caught the assassin's mid-strike, steel shrieking against steel. The hall erupted in shouts as the attacker twisted away, disappearing into the shadows behind the pillars.
Isabella was already moving, her dagger in hand, eyes locked on the darkened archway where the figure had fled. Without a word, she slipped after them.
Elias wanted to follow, but the Regent's voice snapped him back. "With me, Elias! The envoy must not leave—we have questions."
The choice clawed at him. Follow Isabella into danger and perhaps finally uncover her truth, or stay with the Regent and hold his place at her side. Either choice would leave one path untended—and possibly lost forever.
He chose the Regent. For now.
The envoy had drawn a concealed dagger of his own, but two guards pinned him before he could use it. Elias searched him quickly, finding a small scroll sealed with black wax—the mark of the southern rebel council.
The Regent took it, eyes narrowing. "So the South's envoy comes armed and carrying treason in his sleeve. Take him to the lower cells. I will deal with him myself."
Elias caught the faintest curve of her lips as she turned away—a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
Hours later, the hall was quiet again, save for the groan of the storm. Elias found himself in the empty library, the fire casting long, lonely shadows. Isabella entered without knocking, her cloak damp with snow.
"You let him take you from the chase," she said, not accusing, but not without bite.
"You didn't give me much choice," Elias replied. "And what did you find?"
Her gaze held his for a long moment. "Enough to know we're running out of time."
He stepped closer. "Then tell me what you're not saying."
Her voice softened. "If I do, you'll have to decide whether to protect her… or kill her."
The fire cracked between them. Elias searched her face, trying to read the truth there, but found only shadows.
She reached out then, fingertips brushing the cut on his shoulder from earlier. "You're bleeding again."
"Just a scratch," he said.
"Even scratches can kill, if ignored," she murmured.
And then she was gone, leaving him alone with the fire, the storm, and the growing weight of choices he did not yet understand.
Outside, the wind screamed against the keep's walls like a warning, and Elias knew that before the snow melted, one of the two women he now stood between—the Regent or Isabella—would be dead.