‎‎📖 Bound by Fate, Tied by Love
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‎🌹 Chapter 20: A Game of Masks
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‎The estate's grand council chamber had never felt so alive. Dozens of nobles filled the long hall, their voices rising in a cacophony of debates, accusations, and polished courtesies laced with venom. Sunlight streamed through tall stained-glass windows, painting the marble floor in shifting hues of red and gold.
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‎Isabella stood near Adrian at the head of the chamber, her hands clasped tightly, her expression calm though her heart raced. This was not a banquet of dancers and laughter—this was war disguised in silks and scrolls.
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‎Lord Harrington leaned toward Adrian, his voice sharp but controlled. "They are circling, my lord. Like vultures. Your enemies smell blood after the banquet attack."
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‎"Let them choke on it," Adrian muttered.
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‎But Isabella heard the undertone of frustration in his voice. If he lashed out too harshly, the lords might see weakness cloaked in anger. That was the trap Chloe's father had set, she realized—to make Adrian appear unstable, unfit to hold power.
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‎And then Chloe entered.
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‎She glided into the chamber with the poise of a queen, sapphire silk trailing behind her. Every head turned, every whisper hushed. She moved as if the chamber already belonged to her. Her father, Lord D'Aubrey, followed at a measured pace, his expression carved from stone.
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‎"Lord Adrian," D'Aubrey intoned, his voice smooth as oil. "We are deeply troubled by the… incident that occurred in your hall. It speaks poorly of your ability to maintain order within your own house."
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‎Whispers surged immediately. Isabella's stomach knotted. This was the moment Harrington had warned her of: the beginning of a public trial masked as council.
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‎Adrian's jaw tightened. "The serpent faction strikes at all who oppose them. To twist their actions into a reflection of my weakness is an insult not only to me but to the stability of the realm."
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‎"Well said," Chloe purred, stepping forward. "And yet…" She turned, her golden hair gleaming in the light. "It is curious, is it not, that the assassins chose their moment so well? To strike at a banquet, in front of so many noble eyes. Almost as though…" Her gaze flicked to Isabella. "…they knew precisely who would be there."
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‎The implication hung heavy in the air. Gasps fluttered like startled birds.
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‎Isabella felt her chest tighten, but she held her ground. This was not fear—it was her test.
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‎Adrian's hand twitched toward his sword, but before he could speak, Isabella stepped forward.
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‎"If your words mean to suggest I was the cause," Isabella said, her voice clear, "then let us look closely at what happened."
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‎Every eye turned to her. Chloe's smile faltered.
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‎Isabella continued, her tone measured but firm. "The assassins struck at me, yes. And I did not cower. I fought. I stood beside Adrian. And I survived. If the serpent faction thought me weak, they were mistaken. If they thought Adrian unguarded, they were proven wrong. And if you, Lady Chloe, wish to imply that I was their true target—" Isabella's gaze sharpened, "—then you admit I am already important enough to threaten them."
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‎A ripple surged through the chamber. Nobles exchanged glances, weighing her words. Some nodded, impressed. Others frowned, unsettled.
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‎Chloe's lips curved again, but tighter this time. "Importance does not always equate to strength, my dear. Sometimes it merely makes one a convenient pawn."
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‎"Then it seems," Isabella replied smoothly, "that last night proved I am no pawn. Pawns fall. I did not."
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‎For a heartbeat, silence reigned. Then a lord near the center chuckled softly. Another nodded in approval. The tide had shifted, if only slightly—but enough for Chloe to notice.
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‎Her smile did not break, but her eyes burned with venom.
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The council continued, but Isabella's words lingered like a spark in dry wood. When debates turned to alliances and trade routes, lords glanced her way with newfound respect—or wariness. When Adrian spoke, his voice carried greater weight, bolstered by her quiet defiance.
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‎Lord D'Aubrey pressed on, seeking cracks. "Your house cannot stand against the serpent faction alone. You should cede authority of the southern borders to mine. I will ensure their protection."
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‎Adrian's eyes narrowed. "You would strip my power under the guise of protection."
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‎"Call it what you will," D'Aubrey said smoothly. "But strength divided is no strength at all."
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‎Before Adrian could retort, Isabella spoke again. "And yet, was it not your banners absent from the banquet? Your guards missing from the hall?"
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‎A murmur rippled through the chamber. D'Aubrey stiffened.
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‎Isabella's voice remained calm. "If you wish to speak of protection, my lord, perhaps you should first explain why you chose not to offer any when blades were drawn in the heart of this estate."
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‎Gasps filled the room. Adrian's storm-gray eyes flicked to her, stunned but proud. Harrington's lips curved in the faintest smirk.
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‎D'Aubrey's composure cracked for a heartbeat. "I left early to secure my daughter's safety."
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‎"Of course," Isabella said smoothly. "A father's instinct. But the realm cannot afford leaders who leave when danger rises. The realm needs those who stay."
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‎The murmurs grew louder, tilting the chamber in her favor.
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‎Chloe's smile faltered fully this time.
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‎---
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‎When the council adjourned, the nobles departed in clusters, whispering, debating, recalibrating their allegiances. Isabella stood tall at Adrian's side, though her legs trembled beneath her gown.
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‎As the chamber emptied, Chloe approached. Her smile was brittle, her voice sweet. "Impressive, Isabella. I had not expected you to speak with such… clarity."
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‎"It seems you underestimated me," Isabella replied softly.
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‎Chloe leaned close, her words a hiss meant only for her. "You won the day. But this game is not played in days. It is played in years. And I have been playing far longer than you."
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‎Isabella met her gaze without flinching. "Then perhaps it is time someone changed the rules."
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‎For the first time, Chloe's mask slipped. Her eyes narrowed, sharp as daggers, before she swept away in a swirl of silk.
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‎That night, in the quiet of their chambers, Adrian pulled Isabella into his arms. His touch was fierce, his breath unsteady.
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‎"You silenced them," he whispered, awe lacing his voice. "You stood before them all and silenced them."
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‎She leaned into him, exhaustion crashing over her. "I only said what was true."
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‎"No," he said firmly. "You said what needed to be said. That is rarer. And more dangerous."
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‎He kissed her then, not with solemnity but with fire, as though her defiance had sparked something fierce within him. She clung to him, her heart pounding not from fear, but from something deeper—something that felt like destiny fulfilled.
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‎When they parted, Adrian rested his forehead against hers. "They will come harder now. Chloe, her father, the serpent faction—they will see you as more than a weakness. They will see you as a threat."
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‎Isabella closed her eyes, steadying herself. "Then let them. I will not break."
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‎Days turned into nights, and word of the council spread beyond the estate. Messengers carried whispers to distant lords: of Isabella's defiance, of Chloe's falter, of Adrian's strength reinforced by a woman who refused to bow. Some laughed at the notion of a lady's words changing the tides of power. Others whispered of a new force rising at Adrian's side.
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‎But beneath the surface, the serpent faction stirred. Assassins had failed. Now subtler games would begin.
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‎And in the shadows of the great estate, Chloe watched and planned, her smile returning like a blade drawn slowly from its sheath.
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