📖 Bound by Fate, Tied by Love
🌹 Chapter 27: The Serpent's Shadow
Night cloaked House Valemont in uneasy silence. The torches burned low along the walls, their flames guttering against the chill wind. From the battlements, the serpent's banners glowed faintly in the distance, a dark constellation across the hills. Their campfires dotted the horizon, patient and mocking, a predator's gaze fixed on its prey.
Inside the estate, rest did not come.
Soldiers lingered near the gates with hands clenched around weapons, their voices low and clipped. Servants walked the halls as though the stones themselves might betray them. Even the horses in the stables grew restless, stamping hooves against straw.
It was not only the memory of yesterday's blood that haunted them—it was the certainty of a serpent's whisper somewhere within these very walls.
---
Isabella sat in the great hall, her hands folded tightly in her lap. Before her, a group of villagers from the outlying lands huddled together, their faces pale with fear. They had fled to the estate for protection when word of Chloe's riders cutting the roads spread.
"You are safe here," Isabella told them gently, though she felt the tremor in her own heart. "House Valemont's walls will not fall. And neither will we."
A woman clutched her child tighter. "But my lady, the serpent's banners stretch further each day. And they say—" her voice faltered, dropping to a whisper— "they say one of the serpent's own walks among us already."
The words rippled like a stone cast in water.
Isabella straightened, her voice steady though her stomach tightened. "Then let the serpent hear me clearly: we are not afraid. Let them slither in shadows—we stand together, and shadows cannot break what light defends."
The villagers bowed their heads, some comforted, others merely silenced. But as Isabella watched them shuffle away, she could not shake the unease gnawing at her. Words could soothe, yes—but could they root out treachery?
---
The war council convened once more by candlelight.
Adrian stood at the head of the table, his storm-gray eyes hard as flint. Lord Harrington sat to his right, Captain Rourke to his left, both weary but alert. The map spread before them showed serpent banners tightening around the estate like a noose.
"They mean to starve us," Harrington muttered, tracing the cut supply lines with a bony finger. "Within weeks, we'll be short on food and arrows alike."
Adrian's jaw tightened. "Then we break the noose before it closes. But not with brute force. Chloe will expect that. We strike with precision, when she least expects it."
Captain Rourke leaned forward. "And what of the spy, my lord? If our plans are whispered to her, no precision will matter."
The chamber fell into silence.
Adrian's voice cut through it, low and cold. "The spy will be found. Already I have doubled the watches, rotated the guards, questioned every man at the gates. Sooner or later, the serpent will reveal its fangs."
Isabella, standing near the fire, spoke softly. "Fear grows heavier with each passing day. If you press too hard, the men may turn on each other before the serpent even strikes. You must be cautious, Adrian."
He turned to her, and for a heartbeat, the storm in his eyes faltered. "Caution is a luxury I can ill afford, Isabella. But I will try—for their sake. For yours."
The council ended with no easy answers, only shadows thicker than before.
---
That night, Adrian walked the ramparts, his cloak snapping in the wind. The serpent campfires still glowed in the distance, patient and waiting.
A soldier approached, saluting sharply. "Report from the northern gate, my lord. All quiet."
Adrian studied him. The soldier's helm cast his face in shadow, but his stance was steady, his voice firm. Adrian gave a curt nod and dismissed him. Yet as the man walked away, something pricked at the edge of Adrian's mind. Too steady. Too calm.
He followed in silence, his boots muffled by stone. The soldier moved through the courtyard, past the stables, toward the old well near the wall. Adrian's hand fell to his sword.
The man knelt by the well, glancing about quickly before slipping something into the loose stones. A small bundle, bound with twine.
"Stop."
Adrian's voice cut like a blade. The soldier froze, his hand still on the stone. Slowly, he rose, turning with a smile that chilled Adrian's blood.
"My lord," the man said smoothly. "I was only—"
Adrian's sword flashed free. "Do not lie to me. Who do you serve?"
The soldier's eyes gleamed in the torchlight. "The serpent has many fangs, Valemont. You cannot cut them all."
Before Adrian could strike, the man hurled a dagger from his belt, aiming not at Adrian but at the torch above. The flame sputtered out, plunging them into shadow. By the time Adrian's blade sliced the air, the spy was gone—vanished into the darkness.
Adrian cursed, his voice echoing. He tore the bundle from the stones, breaking the twine. Inside lay a parchment, marked with Chloe's serpent sigil.
The message read: Tomorrow, the gates will open from within.
The estate awoke to whispers of the failed capture. Some claimed Adrian had killed the spy, others that the traitor had fled into the hills. The truth—that the serpent still slithered within—spread like poison.
Isabella moved swiftly to calm the storm, speaking with soldiers, reminding them of loyalty and duty. Yet even as she spoke, her eyes searched every face, wondering which of them carried Chloe's dagger in their heart.
When she returned to her chambers, Adrian was waiting, the parchment clenched in his fist.
"They mean to open the gates," he growled. "Tomorrow. But who? Who among us dares it?"
Isabella stepped close, her hand brushing his arm. "We will find them, Adrian. But you must not let fury cloud you. Chloe counts on your anger. She knows it."
He turned, his storm-gray eyes fierce. "Then what do you suggest, Isabella? That we wait until the gates swing wide and her riders spill our blood in our own halls?"
"No," she said firmly. "I suggest we set a trap."
---
The plan unfolded under the cover of darkness.
Adrian ordered the guards rotated twice over, their loyalties tested. Scouts were placed in hidden alcoves near the gates, ready to spring at the first sign of betrayal. The message had said tomorrow—and tomorrow, Adrian meant to let the serpent bite, only to crush its fangs.
Isabella moved quietly among the soldiers, her words calm, her presence steady. But in her chest, her heart thundered. For if the trap failed, House Valemont would fall from within before a single serpent rider breached its walls.
---
The dawn came gray and heavy.
From the hills, the serpent banners stirred, as though they too sensed the tension brewing. The gates of House Valemont loomed tall, guarded by twice the usual number of men. Yet beneath the armor and discipline, unease coiled like a living thing.
Adrian stood in the shadows of the gatehouse, hand on his sword, eyes scanning every movement. Beside him, Isabella watched too, her breath shallow but steady.
Hours passed. The sun climbed higher. No serpent rider approached, no horn sounded. And still, the traitor did not move.
Whispers spread among the soldiers. Had the message been a lie? A trick to fray their nerves further?
Then—
A sudden crash echoed from the western wall. A barrel of oil, overturned and set ablaze. Soldiers rushed to smother the flames, panic rippling through the courtyard.
In that chaos, a lone guard slipped toward the gate mechanism, hand closing on the lever.
"Now!" Adrian roared.
The hidden scouts leapt from the shadows, seizing the man before he could move the lever. His helm clattered to the ground—revealing a familiar face.
Captain Dorne.
Gasps tore through the courtyard.
Adrian's sword pressed against Dorne's throat, his voice a snarl. "Why? Why betray the house you swore to defend?"
Dorne's lips curled into a smile. "Because loyalty is wasted on a house already dying. Chloe offers power, Adrian. She offers victory. And when your walls crumble, I will stand beside her, not buried beneath your pride."
Isabella stepped forward, her voice steady though her hands trembled. "You are wrong, Dorne. Pride did not keep this house standing—loyalty did. The loyalty of men better than you."
Dorne's eyes flashed with contempt. "Then may their loyalty drown them in blood."
Adrian's blade bit into his skin, a bead of crimson welling. "Take him to the dungeons. He will live long enough to answer for every drop of blood spilled by his treachery."
The soldiers dragged Dorne away, his laughter echoing like poison.
---
That night, as the estate settled into uneasy quiet, Adrian stood with Isabella on the balcony overlooking the serpent's campfires.
"One traitor revealed," Adrian murmured, his jaw tight. "But how many more remain?"
Isabella slipped her hand into his, her gaze unwavering. "Enough to wound us, perhaps. But not enough to break us. Not while we stand together."
Below, the serpent banners flickered in the distance, patient, waiting. And in the silence between heartbeats, Isabella knew: the worst was yet to come.