“Braith—”
“Not feeding. Not politics. Just... kiss me.”
He hesitates for a heartbeat, then his mouth captures mine. The kiss is gentle at first, almost careful, as if he's afraid I might break. But when I press closer, demanding more, his control cracks.
His lips part mine, tongue sliding against mine in a rhythm that makes my pussy throb. I can taste cold stone and something uniquely him. When I bite his lower lip gently, he makes a sound that goes straight to my core.
We break apart breathing hard, both of us flushed and wanting more.
“Later,” I promise, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw. “After we deal with whatever Vasek is planning.”
“Later,” he agrees, but his eyes burn with promise.
I change into more practical clothing while shadow servants flutter anxiously around me. Dark wool and leather, garments that match Kiakoa's choice—functional but well-made, allowing movement while maintaining dignity.
As I dress, I notice the shadow servants behaving strangely. They cluster near the windows, their wispy forms pressing against the glass before drifting towardthe walls. One phases through the stone, disappearing for several moments before returning with obvious agitation.
Three more servants join the first, all of them flickering with unusual intensity. They swirl around me, reaching for objects on my desk—a quill, a piece of paper, anything they can briefly grasp to get my attention.
“What is it?” I ask them directly.
They can't answer in words, but they drift toward the window again, more insistent this time. I follow, looking out at the landscape beyond the castle walls.
The eight riders are visible now, positioned on a ridge about a mile from our gates. Professional spacing, clear sightlines to our defenses, but maintaining respectful distance. Exactly what I'd expect from a reconnaissance mission.
But the shadow servants grow more agitated, not less. One phases through the wall again, bringing back two more when it returns. Soon, a dozen wispy forms cluster around me, all trying to communicate something urgent.
Understanding strikes me suddenly. They're not trying to show me the riders I can see. They're detecting something I can't see.
“What is it?” I whisper.
They lead me through corridors toward different windows, each offering views of various approaches to the castle. At first, I see nothing unusual through each pane of glass. Then one servant manages to grasp my wrist—coldpressure that barely registers as touch—and guides my attention to a specific section of forest.
There. A flicker of movement between twisted trees. Then another, in a different location. And another.
The eight visible riders aren't the real threat. They're the distraction. While our attention focuses on them, other forces are moving into position around the castle. But these aren't just random scouts—they're moving toward something specific.
The Bone Orchard.
“Where's Kiakoa?” I ask the servants.
They swirl around me, agitation increasing. One points toward the main hall, another toward the armory. He's handling the visible threat while the real danger approaches his most valuable possession.
I run.
I find him on the castle's main wall, studying the visible riders through a spyglass. Border guards occupy defensive positions along the battlements, arrows nocked but not drawn. Everything looks controlled, professional, appropriate for the level of threat they can see.
“The Orchard,” I gasp, slightly out of breath from running. “They're moving on the Orchard.”
He lowers the spyglass immediately, golden eyes focusing on me. “Explain.”
“The shadow servants detected movement in the forests. Multiple groups, all positioned to approach thefruit trees while we're distracted by the riders.” I point toward the visible scouts.
His jaw tightens. “How many?”
“I couldn't get an exact count, but at least a dozen. Maybe more.”
He hands the spyglass to one of the guards and turns toward the stairs leading down from the wall. “Show me.”
