Aiden was already out of the cell.
Not free, not yet—freedom was an illusion, one that could vanish the mont a guard’s torchlight swung too far or a whisper reached the Earl’s ears.
But his feet were on stone, his armor was upon him, and his chains lay forgotten in the straw behind him. That was enough.
The weight of steel pressed against his shoulders, comforting and suffocating all at once. His cuirass was dented, its edges rough from battle and neglect, the sigil scraped clean.
A blank knight now, faceless in borrowed iron. His visor was down, his gait even—one soldier among many, a shadow swallowed by the fortress.
The old gas of hide and seek.
He had been good at those. Too good.
And yet beneath the armor, beneath the calm, he was trembling. Not with fear—but with the raw mory of touch.
He could still sll her.
Akidna.
The scent clung to his skin, his hair, the hollow of his throat. Not perfu—never that. It was sothing subtler, earthier: lavender crushed underfoot, a trace of soap and sweat, the faint musk of desire not yet spent. It was on him like a secret kiss, invisible but undeniable.
He drew a breath through the slit of his helm, sharp, greedy, as though he could drink her presence back into him.
Exhaled.
Relief. And yet ache.
He missed her already.
Aiden cursed under his breath.
Not now. Gods, not now. This was no ti for hunger, no ti for the incubus heat coiling like a serpent inside his gut. There would be ti for that later—if he survived long enough to claim it.
Now he had a mission.
The vial.
His blood.
He had pressed it into Akidna’s hand before slipping away, her fingers trembling as they closed around the glass. The instructions were clear: into the water tanks. A drop, two, enough to spread. Enough to soften. Enough to begin.
Influence, he reminded himself. That was the word. Not seduction. Not conquest. Influence.
The blood carried weight, more than his flesh could bear alone. It would whisper where he could not, nudge where his hands could never reach.
But whispers alone would not topple lords. Not yet.
He needed allies. Willing ones. Vulnerable ones.
And there was no vulnerability like that of noblewon.
He walked with purpose, boots ringing lightly against stone as he took the long stairway toward the eastern wing. A sentry glanced at him once, bored eyes skimming over his liodas sigil. A stolen sigil, dangerous to wear. Pretending to belong to a house without blood or right was no petty cri—it was treason. Punishable by rope or fire.
But Aiden did not flinch. Treason was only treason when you lost.
The corridor opened, cool air washing over him. He could feel the pulse of his blood in his throat, a reminder of the risk, of the heat crawling beneath his skin. And then—the door. Tall, arched, carved with the crest of House liodas.
Shina’s room. Lady liodas.
The Baroness.
Aiden drew closer, every step heavy with intent. He caught the eye of the guard stationed there, a man younger than himself, helm polished, spear planted upright like so temple idol. The boy stiffened as Aiden’s shadow fell across him.
"You," Aiden said, voice clipped, carrying the weight of command. "Guard the cell. My orders. No one enters. No one checks within. Understand?"
The guard hesitated. Blinked.
The armor did the work for him. The sigil of liodas glead faintly in torchlight. Authority. Legitimacy. The boy swallowed and nodded.
"Yes, ser."
Aiden didn’t look back.
He stepped to the side, lingering in the alcove, heart steady now, every nerve poised. The stone walls seed to lean closer, listening. He waited.
And at last—soft footsteps.
Two figures erged from the far end of the corridor, light spilling across them as they passed beneath torches. The Baroness Shina walked first, her gown flowing dark against the floor, a asured grace to her stride. Beside her, a maid trailed—head bowed, hands folded, posture perfect.
Tanya.
Aiden’s lips curved beneath his helm.
She had done her work well. Ensnaring the Baroness, softening her, binding her with threads unseen. Seeing her now, Aiden felt a flicker of pride. She was a weapon in her own right, sharpened on secrets and shadows.
But pride was dangerous. He forced it down.
No ti yet.
The Baroness reached her chamber door, Tanya a step behind. Aiden shifted with them, silent as a shadow, close enough to feel the whisper of their gowns brushing air.
Tanya’s head tilted, just barely, nostrils flaring. A pause. A sniff. Her eyes flickered once toward him, sharp and suspicious. But only for an instant.
She turned away, and the two won passed into the chamber.
The door closed.
Aiden moved.
One swift stride, two, his gauntlet closing on the latch, swinging it open before the silence settled. He slipped inside, steel whispering against wood as he closed it behind him. The bolt slid into place.
The sound was loud in the stillness.
The Baroness whirled, her hand flying to her throat. "What—" she began, voice rising.
But then he lifted his hands, unclasping the helm.
Steel parted.
His face revealed.
Shina’s words died in her mouth.
Her eyes widened, shock flickering across her features.
Aiden t her gaze, calm, steady. His voice was low, carrying weight.
"It’s ti," he said. "Ti for my favor."
The chamber seed to shrink around them. Tanya’s eyes darted between the two, her mouth tightening, but she did not speak.
Shina’s lips parted in silence when he stepped inside, the torchlight spilling across his face as the helm ca away. She did not speak—not yet. Her eyes flickered, not with fear, but with the stunned awe of soone who could not decide if the man before her was apparition or flesh.
It was Tanya who found her voice first. She moved a half-step forward, eyes narrowing, voice tight but steady.
"Sothing has happened," she said. Not a question. A statent, sharp as a drawn blade.
Aiden almost laughed. Of course she would see through it—she always did. But he only inclined his head, the shadow of a smile tugging his lips.
"Of course sothing happened," he said. His voice was calm, too calm, but his eyes carried the weight of the cell he’d just escaped. "The Earl has branded unruly. I’ve been chained—locked in the cells like a common thief. Temporary, they call it. A punishnt for ignoring protocol."
He let the words linger in the chamber, each syllable heavy. Shina’s breath caught; Tanya’s brow furrowed, suspicion still keen in her gaze.
"But I know better," Aiden continued, his tone lowering, hardening. "That was just the lure. The bait in a trap that hasn’t yet snapped shut. The Blood Commander will whisper in the Earl’s ear, as he always does. Convince him. Turn that temporary punishnt into sothing permanent."
He paused, scanning their faces, letting the silence stretch taut.
"Death, perhaps," he said at last, his voice quieter, but sharper. "Or sothing worse."
The words settled like stones in the chamber.
Shina’s fingers tightened on the folds of her gown. Her lips trembled as though to speak, but no sound ca. Her eyes flicked toward Tanya, desperate for anchor, for guidance.
Aiden exhaled slowly, closing the distance between them by a single step, the weight of his armor whispering against itself.
"But they also have rules," he said, almost gently. "Chains only hold if you’ve broken the law. Unless I make another mistake, they cannot touch . Not yet. That buys ti. A few days at most."
He lifted his gaze, pinning both of them with it. There was no mirth in his eyes now, only steel.
"And in that ti," he said, voice low, steady, unshakable—
"I need to change my situation. I need leverage. I need... you."
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