The fire crackled in the silence of the grand salon, its glow dancing across Selene's porcelain skin and the trembling nobleman kneeling before her. Lord Harry Valtiere, young, desperate, and stupid enough to think she might actually entertain his pathetic attempts at courtship.
"Silence," Selene murmured before he could speak, pressing a delicate finger to his lips. "My love has a high price."
The scent of burning flesh soured the air the moment the poker seared against Harry's cheek. He convulsed, but she held him fast, not bothering to stifle his choked scream. The brand hissed against his skin, leaving the mark of her House: the coiled serpent of D'Argent.
She plucked a golden dagger from the side table, its edge catching the firelight. "Prove your dedication," she said, pressing the hilt into his palm. Harry's breath came in ragged gasps, his fingers shaking around the weapon. But his eyes, wide and glassy with fear and something far worse, longing, never left hers.
"Show me." Selene stepped back, the silk of her gown whispering against the marble as she settled into a high-backed chair. "A true pawn does not hesitate."
Harry fumbled with the lacings of his breeches, hands slick with sweat. The firelight glistened off his bared skin as he positioned the dagger's tip at the base of his-
"I expected more of a fight."
The voice slashed through the tension a half-second before Harroway's head struck the rug, rolling to rest near Selene's slipper. Blood streaked the gilded patterns, still dripping from the ragged stump of his neck.
Harry froze, the dagger slipping from his grip.
Victor stepped from the shadows, his boots leaving crimson prints on the marble. He held the severed head of a guard by its hair, someone Selene recognized from the floor above. His grin was all teeth. "Bad time, milady?"
Selene's heart stuttered. The porcelain mask of nobility she'd worn her entire life cracked as she stared at the impossible man before her. Victor Kaiser, the dead man, stood dripping with her husband's blood. Her mind reeled. She'd seen his corpse herself after the creature had torn him apart, his body tossed into the paupers' pit.
Yet here he stood.
Her gaze dropped to Harroway's severed head. The blood pooled around her slipper, staining the expensive silk. A strange detachment washed over her, she felt nothing for the husband she'd schemed to murder if not for the cold calculation at this new development.
Her lips parted, as if about to summon the shadow guard with a single word.
In a blur of movement, Victor closed the distance between them. His hand clamped around her throat, cutting off her air and pinning her against the high-backed chair. His fingers pressed against her windpipe with precision, enough to threaten but not crush.
"Looking for your pet shadow?" Victor's face hovered inches from hers, his eyes colder than she remembered. "Don't bother."
Harry remained frozen beside them, his body rigid with terror, the golden dagger forgotten at his feet. His mouth opened and closed without sound, like a fish tossed from water. The nobleman who had been so eager to mutilate himself for her affection now stood paralyzed, unable to act without her command.
Selene clawed at Victor's wrist, her perfectly manicured nails drawing blood. Dark spots danced at the edges of her vision as she struggled for breath.
"You lied to me, Selene." Victor's grip loosened just enough to let her gasp a thin stream of air. "That wasn't just any guard waiting for me in that bank."
He leaned closer, his lips almost brushing her ear. "Now, you're going to tell me exactly what this shadow guard is. And how to get rid of it."
Selene struggled against Victor's grip, her mind racing with calculations. She'd expected to mourn a failed assassin, not face the wrath of a resurrected one.
"Those 'guards'," she managed between constricted breaths, "were a gift to my husband from the eastern provinces. I didn't know about them until today." Her eyes darted to Harroway's severed head, its sightless eyes accusing her of lies. "They came with a caravan three days ago. I was never told how to summon or control them."
Victor's eyes narrowed, searching her face for deception. His fingers remained tight around her throat, the pressure a constant reminder of her precarious position.
"Why would I send you to your death if I knew?" Selene hissed. "You were meant to be my weapon, not my sacrifice."
Kaiser's attention shifted to Harry, who remained paralyzed, his branded cheek still smoking faintly.
"What's his problem? And why in God's name is he branded like cattle?" Victor loosened his grip slightly, allowing Selene to turn her head toward the nobleman.
She forced a cold smile. "Harry? He's nothing. A pawn." She nodded toward the hot poker still glowing in its brazier. "That mark is more than decoration. It's a binding sigil, it creates control over suitable subjects."
Victor's eyebrows rose. "That sounds too powerful for mere nobles to be playing with."
"It only works on the broken," Selene explained, her voice steadying as she spoke of things she understood. Her fingers brushed against Victor's wrist, no longer fighting his grip but almost caressing it. "The mentally shattered or those with absolute devotion. It's exceedingly difficult to achieve and costs significant magical energy to maintain."
Victor considered her words, his gaze calculating. Still holding Selene's throat, he reached down with his free hand and picked up the golden dagger from the floor. He pressed its tip against Harry's forehead, watching for any reaction. The nobleman didn't flinch, his eyes vacant pools of submission.
"Pathetic," Victor muttered. With a single motion, he drove the blade into Harry's throat, then stepped back as the body crumpled to the floor. "Can't have witnesses to all this."
Blood pooled at their feet, mingling with Harroway's. Selene remained unnaturally still, watching Victor with the careful attention of prey tracking a predator.
"My payment," Victor said suddenly. "Where's the money you promised?"
"In the vault beneath the bed," Selene replied, too quickly. She hesitated, then added, "But we're on the verge of bankruptcy. There's barely enough to maintain our status."
Victor's laugh was sharp and humorless. "That's really not my problem, princess."
He glanced toward the door, clearly considering his next move. Selene knew she should be terrified, should be begging for her life. Instead, she felt a strange, perverse thrill watching him work, calculating how to gain from such a situation.
Victor couldn't simply leave her here. What if she'd lied about the shadow guard? What if she could summon it, just not in this state? A quick idea formed in his mind as he looked back at her, his grip on her throat relaxing incrementally.
"In the end, our cooperation was pleasant," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous purr.
Selene tilted her head, silver-blonde hair cascading over her shoulder. "What are you about to do?"