Chapter 17
The formalities had ended. The ink had dried. The tea had cooled.
Now came the real test: the walk.
Kael requested a tour of the estate "to understand the lay of the land." What he meant was: I want to see what you're hiding.
I agreed, of course, because backing down would signal weakness—and if there was one thing Kael Vire respected, it was posture under pressure.
We walked through the gardens first. My recently bribed bard strummed in the corner, smiling nervously like someone about to be executed. Kael ignored him entirely.
"You cultivated this?" Kael asked, eyes on a row of mana-resistant winter flowers.
"I bribed nature to behave," I replied.
A flicker. Almost a smirk.
We moved through the west corridor next. I'd spent three sleepless nights cleaning it. Kael ran a gloved hand over the railing. Clean. Straight. Still creaked.
He said nothing.
We passed the hall of portraits. He paused in front of one.
"Your mother?"
"No. My cousin. She was poisoned at her wedding."
Kael didn't react. "And the groom?"
"Died the next day. Cake-related tragedy."
I wasn't sure why I said it that way—nerves, maybe. Or maybe I just wanted to see what would make him blink.
He didn't blink. But I saw it again. That subtle, internal wince of what have I agreed to.
In the library, Elias appeared. Quiet as a cat.
Kael turned slightly at the sound of his footsteps. He looked at Elias—not with warmth, not with wariness. With calculation.
Elias looked right back. No fear. No blinking. Just… evaluation.
Two tacticians. One with a sword. One with a bedtime.
"Elias," I said lightly, "this is Kael Vire, Grand Duke of the Western March and my soon-to-be political partner."
Elias stared at him. "He looks like a sword came to life."
Kael, to his credit, looked vaguely intrigued. "He's observant."
"He's five."
"He's dangerous."
"That's the point."
Kael turned back to me. "I've seen what I need to see. Your defenses are passable. Your household is... unconventional."
I smiled thinly. "We call it rustic charm."
He tilted his head. "You can't hold this land if things worsen. Not alone."
I knew that already. But hearing it from him—a man whose name made courts pause—still stung.
"And you're offering what? A shield?" I asked.
Kael didn't blink. "I'm offering consolidation. You move to my estate. We present a united front. We let the empire guess what we're building."
"And what are we building?" I asked.
"A fortress," he said, without hesitation. "With teeth."
That night, I stood by the upstairs window, watching Kael's carriage disappear into the fog.
He would return in three days with transport for Elias and me.
And I would be moving into a fortress with a man who trusted no one, feared nothing, and had just agreed to play house for the sake of survival.
What could possibly go wrong?
.
.
.
.
.
End of Chapter 17