Page 127 of Unravelled
“We are the same, you know,” he murmured, voice smooth but laced a sharpness. “Both of us are playing this game from both sides. I’m simply trying to ensure we all survive this.”
Mira held his gaze, searching for the lie in his words, for the manipulation woven between them. She let out a slow, measured breath, keeping her expression unreadable. “And yet, somehow, I seem to be the only one at risk.”
Asric’s smirk didn’t falter, but something in his eyes darkened. “Don’t act like a martyr, Mira.” He guided her into another turn, the movement precise, seamless, the illusion of an effortless courtly dance. “You chose this path the moment you chose Ren over your bonded.”
Mira shot Asric a sharp glare. He met it without flinching
“The King of Kharador is not an easy man to steal from,” Asric continued, his voice lilting, casual, as if they were discussing nothing more than the wine selection at dinner. “His instincts are sharp. His trust is nonexistent. You were meant to distract him, like you did me, but now” Asric’s smirk was sharp, knowing. “You’re clever, Mira. You’ll figure it out.”
The final notes of the music faded into silence, the court offering polite applause. Mira released his hand, stepping back, her pulse steady even as her mind raced. She turned on her heel and walked back toward her seat. But even as she sat, even as she reached for her glass, her mind was already working.
She needed to get close to the King of Kharador. She needed a way in. But how did one get close to a man who trusted no one? She glanced up at the dais, watching the War King as he lounged on his throne, his presence commanding even in stillness. His hands were everywhere. Fingers skimming the curve of Nerra’s waist, palm resting against her thigh, his grip firm, possessive.
Nerra was scared. It was clear in the way she held herself, in the tightness of her shoulders, the stiffness of her posture. And no one, not a single person in this damned hall was stopping it. Her heart broke for Nerra. She set down her glass with more force than necessary, pushing to her feet before she had fully decided what she was doing.
Tharion tensed beside her. “Mira, ”
She ignored him. Her steps carried her forward, each one steady, deliberate, even as her pulse hammered against her ribs. Toward the dais.
Mira slowed her steps as she approached, taking in the careful game playing out before her. Danlea, ever poised, sat tall in her throne, her milky eyes fixed on the King, her voice cool and measured as she spoke.
"Kharador and Bharalyn have much to gain from true collaboration," Danlea said smoothly, her voice carrying through the hum of the hall. "It would be beneficial to both of our people if we found common ground before the battlefield." She was trying to pull him into conversation, trying to draw his attention away from the girl on his lap.
The King barely spared her a glance. "Would it?" His tone was bored, dismissive.
Danlea’s fingers curled against the armrest of her throne. If she was irritated, she did not show it. "Trade routes could be expanded," she continued, unfazed. "You came here seeking negotiation, did you not?"
The King’s fingers idly traced the back of Nerra’s neck. "Did I?"
Ren's voice cut in, "You did, Your Majesty."
Finally, the King looked at Ren. And smirked. "Ah, the bastard prince become Regent" His voice dripped with something close to mockery. "Do you feel threatened? That I do not offer you my full attention?"
Ren’s hands curled into tight fists behind his back. "I feel nothing of the sort," he said smoothly. "Only that an ally is a valuable thing. It would be a shame to waste the opportunity before you."
The King chuckled, shaking his head. "So polite. You step mother taught you well."
Mira’s heart pounded as she stepped closer. Finally, the King’s gaze flickered toward her. And held. His expression shifted, curiosity flashing in those dark, calculating eyes.
"The lonely little Solwynd." His lips curled, something dangerously close to amusement crossing his face. "Tell me, are you here to beg for your kingdom as well?"
Mira tilted her head slightly, her voice light, casual, a sharp contrast to the tension that filled the hall. "I was under the impression this was a diplomatic affair, Your Majesty." She glanced at Nerra, and back to him."Besides, I've never begged for anything."
Danlea’s gaze snapped to her. Ren’s posture stiffened beside the dais, but it was more than tension, it was a sudden, visceral ripple of something Mira hadn’t felt from him just before. Jealousy. It rolled off him like heat, quick and unbidden. A beat of silence.
A sharp flicker of something crossed the King’s expression, a warning. Then, he laughed. A deep, rolling sound that made the room hold its breath. "You have teeth, little Solwynd," he mused. "I did wonder if I had chosen you, would you have bitten me?”
Mira tilted her head slightly, feigning consideration, before letting a slow, teasing smile curl on her lips. “Only if you had asked.”
A flicker of something dangerous crossed his face, not anger. Interest. She held the warlord’s gaze, letting the challenge settle between them. Mira kept her gaze steady on the King, hiding the revulsion coiling in her stomach. The words tasted bitter on her tongue. This wasn’t flirtation. It was a strategy.
Her disgust wasn’t for herself, it was for Nerra, still perched like a trophy in the King’s lap, her spine stiff, her silence loud. Mira’s words had been a lure, bait cast into dangerous waters. Anything to pull his attention elsewhere. Anything to get him to let go. She smiled again, sharper this time. Let him look at her. Let him focus on the girl with teeth, not the one who was breaking beneath his touch.
“You would do well in my court little Solwynd, but not in my bed.” Mira refused to break eye contact, refused to be the one to look away first. He knew it. And it amused him. With a slow, deliberate movement, he leaned back against his throne, exhaling as if the evening had begun to bore him.
Without ceremony, he lifted his arm from around Nerra’s waist and pushed her to her feet. She blinked, startled for only a moment, before she scrambled away with careful poise. Mira’s breath eased ever so slightly. The warlord-king watched Nerra go, then turned his gaze back to Mira.
“I am not a monster,” he said simply, his voice devoid of its earlier mockery. “I do not make a habit of forcing women into my bed.” A pause. Then, a slow smirk. “But I do enjoy watching them panic.”
