Page 12 of Beyond the Treaty

The southern gardens at midnight were a risk, a dangerous one. However, the Council’s secrecy, the tight-lipped delibera- tions about the bond, and the growing sense that I was being used demanded answers.

I paced the room, my thoughts swirling like a storm. If I

told Bastian, he would insist on coming with me, and Withers, despite his loyalty, might report this for my safety. For thefirst time, I felt utterly alone in the choices ahead of me. As the hours slowly passed, I steeled myself with quiet determination. I chose simple, dark clothing to help me blend into the garden’s shadows and secured a small dagger at my waist. I had learned that misplaced trust could cost lives; this much I understood.

When midnight arrived, I quietly slipped from my chambers, tiptoeing along the familiar passages of the palace. I avoided the main halls and weaved through servant routes and hidden staircases, my heart pounding with every shadow I passed. The southern gardens were shrouded in darkness. The moon’s faint glow barely illuminated the twisting vines and stone pathways. I paused at the designated arbour, scanning the shadows. Initially, only the rustle of leaves could be heard in the night breeze. Then, a figure stepped out from behind a trellis, cloaked in black, with their hood drawn low.

“Queen Elara,” they spoke softly, their voice low and indis- tinct, neither distinctly male nor female.

I didn’t lower my guard. “You have me at a disadvantage,” I said sharply. “You claim to be a friend, but hide both your face and your name.”

The figure tilted their head slightly, conceding the point. “Caution is necessary for both our sakes.”

They extended a gloved hand, offering a small scroll. “This reveals the truth about Lord Kaelen and the bond the Council is eager to establish. However, reading it will place you in even greater danger than you already face.”

I didn’t take the scroll immediately. “Why are you telling me this? Why not bring it to the Council?”

The figure emitted a soft, humourless laugh. “The Council

is complicit. You, however, are at the centre of it all. Whether you realise it or not, you possess the power to thwart their plans, or ensure they succeed.”

My heart raced. “Why should I trust you? For all I know, this could be a trap.”

The figure stepped closer, their movements slow anddeliber- ate, as though approaching a cornered animal. “You shouldn’t trust me. But you should trust your instincts. Do you truly believe the Council is acting in your best interest? Or are you merely a means to an end?”

Something shifted in the air between us as they spoke. The subtle warmth radiating from their presence reached me, unmistakable and achingly familiar. My breath hitched.

“Azrael,” I whispered, my hand drifting to the dagger at my side.

The figure paused, then lowered their hood. Sure enough, Azrael’s sharp features were faintly illuminated by the moon- light. His dark, tousled hair framed an interesting and dangerous face. His eyes, burning like embers, locked onto mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.

“Elara, it’s been a moment,” he hissed, his voice smooth yet weighted.

I tightened my grip on the dagger. “Not long enough. What are you doing here? How did you get into the palace?”

Azrael smirked faintly, a secretive glint in his eyes. “Getting in was easy. Finding you? That’s always been my speciality.”

His presence was a spark in the suffocating darkness, and I could feel the fire it threatened to ignite.

“You always had a flair for the dramatic,” I said, my voice cold. “Cryptic letters, warnings to trust no one... and the scent of smoke. I should have known.”

His expression faltered momentarily, as if my words res- onated more profoundly. “I didn’t come to argue with you, Elara. I came to warn you. To assist you.”

I squinted. “Warn me? Warn me about what? Why should I trust anything you say?”

Azrael stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. “Because the Council isn’t merely using you to secure peace. They’re manipulating you to control him. The bond isn’t a union, it’s a cage. For both of you.”

The weight of his words struck me, their implications unsettling.

“I need more than your word,” I said, my voice steady despite my turmoil. “Prove it.”

Azrael’s expression darkened, yet he extended the scroll once more. “The answers are here. But you must decide, Elara: will you continue to play their pawn, or will you fight back?”

His presence lingered as he stepped away, leaving me with the scroll and the burden of the choice ahead of me.

CHAPTER 9

Iglance at Azrael, his eyes burning with the same intensity I remember, calculating and expectant. Without another word, I break the seal on the scroll. The parchment feels rough beneath my fingers, its faint scent of pine mingling with the sharp tang of ink. As my eyes scan the text, my breath catches. The contents are not just startling; they are damning.

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