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‘It was dark.’ He felt her shrug in his hold. ‘It was the only thing I could find.’ The tension fizzled away as he looked down at her, safely wrapped in his arms.

A chuckle itched its way up his throat. ‘It looks good on you.’

Running his fingers through her hair, he tried to untangle the mess of knots and slowly unknotted the bird’s nest that sat atop his wife’s head. Ever since he had known her, Areanel had a bad habit of tossing and turning, and she always refused to tie it up. He knew she often found the action comforting, and it was that soothing motion that had her breath puffing out in a relaxed sigh. Rymedur felt the moment she finally settled. Her tense muscles slowly loosened.

Laying a gentle kiss on her head, Rymedur curled his arm around her shoulders. She leaned further into him as another gust blew through the room, tickling their skin, and he moved them back down the hall towards their room. She needed to rest, and he didn’t know if he could be in the same room as Caius right now without wanting to murder him.

No matter what happened, Areanel was Rymedur’s priority. So, without looking back at the guilt-ridden male still sitting silently by the window, Rymedur guided Areanel back towards their bed—but not without leaving a lingering shadow to hiss his only and final warning.

The revellers jeering beyond the doors separating them from the main area grew loud. Standing in the vestibule, in the lower part of the city, the sound started to make Rymedur anxious.

Last night’s events played on his mind like a parasite. What had occurred between Areanel and Caius, he did not know. She refused to talk about it.

Ryyen had returned not an hour later with news from both the governing body of Cal Cathlar and their spies embedded in Alabasus’ underground: things were changing, and fast.

The card Ryyen had given Areanel back at the manor turned out to be an invitation to one of the renowned gambling halls in the lower part of Alabasus, run by a self-made mogul—Sciva Verdugo; a male with great ambition and a thirst for wealth. According to Brutus, Verdugo would go to any lengths to get what he wanted.

Rymedur did not know how Areanel’s Second knew of Verdugo, but he wasn’t the only one… Rymedur’s own past seemed to be entangled with this mission, too.

While Areanel came up with a plan to tackle both the negotiations and the Chieftain, Rymedur was the first to volunteer to infiltrate the gambling hall with her. Over his dead body would he allow Verdugo anywhere near his wife. But if he knew where the Chieftain was, then what choice did they have? And it would be satisfying to see the light leave the chieftain’s eyes when Areanel killed him. The male deserved to die. Especially if he’d willingly helped the rebellion in any way.

Areanel wanted was to avenge their son, and Rymedur shared the sentiment.

She had reassured him that everything was in place; the plan would go smoothly. Areanel was an incredible assassin, but they needed a spy; they needed Caius's connections. So, he, Areanel and Rymedur would be the ones to find, capture and question the chieftain without a hitch. Hopefully.

Brutus would watch from the rooftops and provide an escape if needed. Percival was to make his presence known at the negotiations and ensure all went smoothly while Ryyen infiltrated, undercover, to learn whether the chieftain would join Baroness Ophelia at her side. All angles were covered.

Rymedur just hoped and prayed that they wouldn’t run into Sciva Verdugo. But as they stood in the lion’s den, he knew that wasn’t his only problem.

Areanel wore a scandalous dress that had almost brought him to his knees at first sight. The dress was a statement—an embellishment, and she was the object it was meant to adorn. A prize.

Rymedur couldn’t take his eyes off her; she looked absolutely divine, but had not let him touch her. She had insisted that they needed to remain focused, but Rymedur was finding it difficult when she looked so outrageously gorgeous. The emerald hue stood out against the various tones of red decorating the establishment. The material hugged her curves perfectly, and the velvet was soft against his fingers. The corset was pulled tight, pushing her breasts up—and with the low cut, it was quite revealing—a sight Rymedur adored. Velvet panels ran along her abdomen, but sheer fabric left little to the imagination. Off-the-shoulder, long velvet sleeves would provide her with a slight reprieve from the winter air, but the skirts of her dress were far from modest, flowing down and opening at a high slit above her hip. The dress pooled behind her, leaving her left leg entirely exposed. One misstep, and she’d bare herself to all who dared look.

The thought had Rymedur clenching his jaw and subconsciously drawing her closer. He wanted nothing more than to devour her. To show the revellers whose gazes lingered too long that they belonged to each other. But the gods clearly hated him, and Rymedur cursed them. As soon as the large black, carved doors opened, red light poured out from within, and a tall, slender male with large eyes appeared. A woman with short, tight blonde curls that bounced with every step hung from his arm.

Fuck. What was she doing in Alabasus?

Hadn’t she said she had never left Andrea?

Rymedur was a dead man walking. This was it.

Areanel would hate him now.

The male was dressed in formal human attire: a black dress shirt tucked neatly into his trousers, a cane and a long, blood-red overcoat that matched his shoulder-length hair. This man needed no introduction; Rymedur recognised him almost immediately.

He just hoped the male had no recollection of him—or at least, would have the decency to keep his secret.

‘Welcome. Welcome. I am Sciva Verdugo. A pleasure to welcome you to my humble establishment, old friend.’ Rymedur almost heaved a sigh of relief when he ignored him entirely; instead, Verdugo held out his hand for Caius to shake. But how did he know Caius?

Rymedur noted that Verdugo still wore a permanent smile. Even after all these years, his countenance remained the same. His brilliant white teeth were on full display, and his expression did not change once.

‘Scilla darling, would you mind serving while I greet the guests?’ He dismissed the blonde without sparing her a glance. One of his workers, then.

His gaze then slid to Areanel, and Rymedur tensed, muscles pulling taut as Verdugo scanned her from head to toe. ‘Well, well. What do we have here? Won’t you introduce us, dear Jamison?’ Verdugo directed to Caius, his gaze lingering on Areanel.

Narrowing a sidelong glare at Caius, Rymedur assessed the male—who did not baulk at the name. An alias, then. Rymedur wanted nothing more than to push Areanel behind him out of sight, but he knew that, in order for this to work, he must remain impassive.

Caius wasn’t making it easy for him, either. As soon as his arm snaked around her waist, Rymedur’s hand twitched. Had he brought his scythe, Caius would’ve lost his hand. Especially after last night.