All his plans, all his strategies, felt like a child's game in the face of the person standing before him.
Isolde Valerius. The true villain of the story's sixth Act.
"It is a pleasure to finally meet you properly, Lord Ashveil," Isolde said, her voice a perfect symphony of polite concern. She curtsied gracefully.
He forced his body to relax, pushing down the surge of pure, primal fear. He couldn't let her know that he knew what kind of monster hid behind that perfect mask.
"Princess Isolde," he replied, his voice a low, rough rasp. "To what do I owe the honor?"
'Get to the point,' he thought. 'Vultures don't circle unless they smell a corpse or a meal.'
"Oh, please," she said with a light, airy laugh. "There's no need for such formality. The entire academy is talking about your duel. It was truly remarkable."
Her ice-blue eyes scanned him from head to toe. It wasn't a look of sympathy. It was an assessment. A butcher sizing up a piece of meat.
"And," she continued, turning her smile towards Elvara, "I saw this lovely lady waiting outside. I believe you are Elvara? I'm a first-year as well."
Elvara looked completely overwhelmed, stammering a quiet, "Yes, your highness."
'A perfect excuse,' Azrael's mind raced. 'She uses Elvara as a pretext to be here, to observe us both.'
"My brother can be so… passionate," Isolde said, turning back to him. "He told me you two had a disagreement over Lady Seraphina. You must have been very angry."
It was a probing question disguised as a casual observation. She wanted to know his motivation.
"It was just a duel," he said, his voice flat, offering her nothing to work with.
"Just a duel?" she repeated, her head tilting. "From what I hear, it was about much more. The rumors are flying… that you suddenly had your marriage annulled."
Her gaze flickered to Elvara again. "But the timing is what's truly fascinating. Did you simply grow tired of your new toy?"
Every word was a carefully placed scalpel, intended to cut him open.
"What I do is my own business, Princess," he said, his tone colder than he intended.
Isolde's smile didn't falter, but he saw a flicker of something else in her eyes. Annoyance? Intrigue?
"Of course," she said smoothly. "It is not every day that a man changes so dramatically."
She was relentless. He felt like a mouse being toyed with by a very beautiful, very deadly cat.
"I haven't changed," he lied, his voice a low growl.
"Oh, but you have," she insisted, leaning in closer. "The Azrael I have heard stories about was a boy who used his family name as a shield."
She gestured to his bandaged form. "But the boy I saw in the arena… he was different. He fought with a will I have rarely seen."
He stared back at her, his violet eyes meeting her ice-blue ones. Silence was his only weapon.
The tension in the room was so thick he could taste it. Elvara looked back and forth between them, terrified and confused.
Isolde finally pulled back, her smile returning. "Well, it seems you are not in the mood for conversation."
She turned to Elvara. "Perhaps you and I could go for some tea? I would love to hear all about your life here."
It was another move in her game. Separating them. Interrogating Elvara alone.
"She's tired," Azrael said, his voice cutting in before Elvara could respond. "She's been waiting here for hours. She needs to rest."
Isolde's perfect smile tightened by a fraction. It was the first sign that he had successfully blocked one of her moves.
"How thoughtful of you, senior," she said, her voice dripping with sweetness. "Always thinking of others."
She knew he was lying. He knew she knew. But she couldn't call him out on it without ruining her friendly facade.
'Check,' he thought, a small, bitter victory. This content belongs to novel-fire.net
"Well, I suppose I will take my leave then," Isolde said, her grace unshaken.
She turned to him one last time. "And you, Lord Ashveil. Please do take care of yourself. The academy would be far less interesting without you."
It sounded like a pleasantry. But he heard the real meaning. 'You are interesting to me now. I will be watching you.'
She turned and glided out of the room, leaving a trail of expensive perfume and chilling silence.
The moment the door closed, Azrael let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. His body was drenched in a cold sweat.
Elvara finally found her voice. "She is… not what I expected."
"Don't trust her," Azrael said, his voice low and urgent. "Don't talk to her. Don't be alone with her. If you see her, walk the other way."
"But… she's the princess," Elvara stammered, confused by his intensity. "She was just being friendly."
"She is never 'just' anything," he said, his eyes dark with the memory of the novel's bloody future. "She is a snake. Stay away from her."
He looked at Elvara's confused face and knew she didn't understand. How could she?
She saw a charming princess. He saw a future queen who would drown a continent in blood to secure her throne.