Chapter 74 Elena Heart- POV
I walked toward her, my mind spinning. I had a location, the Cathedral. I had a time, tonight. And I had a target, the man with the silver serpent.
As we walked back to the carriage, I felt Grace’s eyes on me, suspicious and sharp. She didn't know I had just stolen the keys to their kingdom. But now I faced a new problem: How was I going to get this to Xavier without Grace realizing I had betrayed the rebellion?
If I went to the Cathedral alone, I’d be walking into a nest of vipers. But if I didn't go, the King would be dead before the sun rose on the second day.
"You look pale, Elena," Grace remarked as the carriage door clicked shut. "Did the library books bore you that much?"
"Exhaustingly so," I lied, looking out the window at the looming silhouette of the Cathedral in the distance. "I think I need some air. Perhaps another walk with my 'guard' this evening would do me some good?"
Grace laughed, a cold, dry sound. "Do what you must. Just make sure he’s well-distracted. The King needs his shadow to be looking the other way tonight."
Oh, he’ll be looking, I thought, my jaw tightening. But not where you think.
The evening air was crisp, the scent of jasmine from the plaza gardens fighting against the metallic tang of the city’s industrial outskirts.
I walked with a calculated sway, the hem of my midnight-blue dress whispering against the cobblestones. I had spent an hour at the vanity, painting a masterpiece of "distraction" on my face, deep kohl around my eyes and a crimson lip that looked like a bloodstain in the dim light. To anyone watching, I was a woman heading to a rendezvous of the heart.
In reality, I was a woman walking into a war zone.
I couldn't help but smirk as I remembered James’s face earlier. Poor James. He thought he was discreet that I didn't notice him lurking in the inn for hours.
“Tell Dark. Plaza garden. 8 PM. And James? Wear a belt. It helps with the transition,” I’d whispered before vanishing around the corner.
Now, as I approached the entrance to the plaza, my senses were screaming. I didn't need a vision to know I wasn't alone. T
here was a rhythmic scrape of a boot two paces behind the beat of my own, Grace’s hounds. She didn't trust me as much as she pretended to; she wanted to make sure her "spider" actually bit the guard instead of just spinning silk.
I reached the fountain at the center of the garden, the water shimmering like liquid silver under the moon. I pulled out a small lace handkerchief and dropped it, a classic, dramatic signal.
"You’re late, Dark," I said loudly, pitched perfectly for the ears hiding in the topiary behind me.
From the shadows of a weeping willow, he emerged. He wasn't wearing the mustache or the glasses tonight. He was back in his guard leathers, the silver trim catching the light, his mask firmly in place.
He looked every bit the lethal, silent protector. But I saw the way his eyes narrowed as he took in my appearance, the dress, the hair, the deliberate vulnerability.
He stepped into the light, his presence instantly drowning out the sounds of the city.
"A guard's duties are never-ending, Elena," he replied, his voice a low, smooth vibration that sent a shiver down my spine. He stopped just inches from me, his heat radiating through the cool night air. "You look... different tonight. Dangerous."
"The city is a dangerous place," I whispered, stepping closer until our chests almost touched. I reached up, ostensibly to straighten his collar, but my fingers moved with a frantic, hidden purpose. I leaned into his ear, my breath ghosting over his skin.
"Don't look behind me," I breathed, my voice so low it was almost a thought. "Grace’s men are in the hedges at six o'clock. They’re watching us. Play along. Act like you’re falling for the trap."
I felt his body stiffen for a heartbeat before he relaxed into a posture of practiced ease. His hands came up to rest on my waist, a possessive, heavy weight that made my heart hammer against my ribs.
To the spies in the bushes, it looked like a soldier succumbing to a beautiful woman. To me, it felt like an anchor in a hurricane.
"The Cathedral," I murmured, my forehead resting against his shoulder. "Thorne and the others. They’re meeting a representative of the Silver Sun tonight. A man with a silver serpent pin. They’ve bought Leo, Xavier. They’re clearing the North Gate. You have to stop the exchange."
I felt his fingers tighten on my waist, a sharp, silent intake of breath. He didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned down, his mask brushing against my temple as if he were whispering sweet nothings.
"The North Gate?" he hissed back, his voice thick with a cold, royal fury. "That’s where the main barracks are. If that gate falls, the palace is defenseless."
"I know," I said, a stray tear threatening to ruin my kohl. "That's where the end begins. You have to go. Now."
"And what about you?" he asked, his grip turning protective. "If I leave, Grace’s men will wonder why our 'date' ended so abruptly. They’ll suspect you."
I pulled back just enough to look into his blue eyes, projecting every ounce of the "assassin" Grace expected me to be. I gave him a slow, seductive smile—the kind that was meant to break hearts.
"I’ll handle the hounds," I whispered. "I’m an assassin, remember? Just get to the Cathedral. Don't let the serpent bite the King."
He looked at me for a long, agonizing second, a battle raging behind his eyes. Then, he did something that wasn't in the script. He leaned down and pressed a hard, lingering kiss to my forehead.
"Stay alive, Elena," he commanded. "That's a royal order."
Then, with a final, lingering look, he turned and disappeared into the shadows, heading toward the Cathedral. I stood by the fountain, alone, feeling the eyes of Grace’s men burning into my back.
I reached into the folds of my midnight-blue dress, my fingers closing around the cold, familiar hilt of my dagger.
"Now," I whispered to the shadows. "Who wants to dance?"
My bravado lasted exactly three seconds.
I had my fingers wrapped around the hilt of my dagger, ready to pivot and strike, when a sharp, cold sting blossomed at the nape of my neck.
My knees didn't just buckle; they turned to water. The moonlit garden spun into a chaotic blur of silver and black, and the last thing I felt was the rough, sweet-smelling thorns of the rosebushes catching my skin before the world blinked out like a snuffed candle.
Damn it, Elena, was my final, humiliating thought. You’re supposed to be the one doing the kidnapping.