Page 128 of Unravelled
The King stood, his massive frame casting a shadow over the dais.
The hall fell silent. “I have no interest in your courtly games tonight,” the King of Kharador announced, his tone casual, almost lazy. The words echoed in the vast hall, dismissive, unconcerned. Then, as if diplomacy were nothing more than a tedious obligation, he continued, “We will begin your diplomacy tomorrow.”
He turned, stepping down from the dais, his movements calm, unhurried. A ripple of unease moved through the gathered nobles, though no one spoke. The room held its breath, waiting for the doors to close behind him. But just before he disappeared, just before he left them to stew in their own uncertainty, He glanced over his shoulder.
His eyes drifted between Ren, Danlea and Caelric. And grinned. A slow smile, one that carried no warmth, only promise.
He walked out the doors with a slam, but his army remained.
39
Mira waited.
She sat through the remainder of the meal, barely tasting the food, barely hearing the murmured conversations that swirled around her. Her fork moved out of habit, not hunger. Around her, nobles whispered behind gilded goblets and diplomatic smiles. Mira’s mind was already spinning. She hadn’t done it. The parchment. The package. The favor Asric had demanded, it was still unfinished, untouched. The opportunity had never come. Her heart thudded, slow but deep, pulsing in her throat. She hadn’t done it. And now they were vulnerable.
Asric wouldn’t wait patiently. He would make them pay for not moving fast enough. Mira’s palms dampened against the silk of her gown. A thousand possibilities bloomed behind her eyes, what he might reveal, what whispers he was already planting. Her breath came shallow. Too many eyes. Too many ears. And no time left.
Across the room, Ren met her gaze for a heartbeat. She looked away first.
Not now
The weight of what she hadn’t done clung to her ribs like waterlogged cloth. And somewhere deep in her gut, panic began to bloom.
When the final toast was given and the nobles began to rise, she leaned toward Tharion, keeping her voice low, deliberate. “Meet me in my rooms, bring Ren”
His eyes flicked to hers, searching, already suspicious. “Mira,”
She looked at Tharion, willing him to just listen. Tharion exhaled slowly but gave a small nod. He wouldn’t press, not here.
Mira slipped away. She made her way through the darkened halls, not toward their quarters, but toward where she suspected the King of Kharador would be staying.
From a shadowed alcove, she watched as the warlord stepped out, his long strides unhurried. Mira exhaled, waiting until he disappeared around the corner before moving. Then, she followed. Her steps were measured, soundless on the stone floor. She kept to the edges, letting the flickering torchlight leave her in half-shadow. Every turn he took, every pause, she mirrored at a distance.
The moment she turned a corner, only to find nothing but a wall. A dead end. Mira barely had time to react before a presence loomed behind her. She spun, but it was too late. The King of Kharador stood, waiting. His broad frame blocked the only exit, his expression unreadable. Amused, yes, but not surprised. Mira’s breath hitched. He had led her here. He had known she was following him from the start.
Slowly, too calmly, he tilted his head. "Brahn said you’d be fiery."
Mira’s breath hitched, just slightly, enough that she felt it, sharp and hot in her lungs. Her heart pounded, not with fear, but with fury, disgust coiling low in her stomach like something venomous. She wanted to flinch, to recoil from the weight of the War King’s gaze, But she didn’t.
Instead, she held his gaze. She forced her pulse to slow, forced the loathing down into her bones where it couldn’t be seen. She would not give him the satisfaction. Her skin crawled beneath the silk of her gown. Every instinct screamed to strike, to scream, to spit the truth of him into the air for all to hear. Mira smiled. A small, knowing smirk that curled on her lips like a blade being drawn.
She tilted her chin up.“Then Brahn knows me well.”
The King of Kharador’s eyes gleamed. “Does he now? he also told me you might need something from me.”He raised his eyebrows. "Do you, little Solwynd?"
Her heart thudded against her ribs, the sound deafening in her ears. Not from fear, but from the sickening click of a puzzle piece sliding into place. The performance. The attention. He thought it was for the court. A show of strength.
The very thing Asric had demanded she steal from the King. The thing Brahn had said would turn the tides. They were the same. The truth slid into her mind like a blade between ribs.
That box tucked beneath the King’s cloak wasn’t just a precaution. It was the game. A weapon. A promise. A trap. She released her breath slow and silent. She couldn’t afford to let the King see the crack. She couldn’t afford anything but confidence.
So she smiled, slow and deliberate. “Give it to me.”
The warlord only chuckled. “You’ll have to be more specific, little Solwynd.” His voice was deep, teasing, but beneath it, there was something else. Something testing.
Mira lifted her chin higher. “The package. Brahn told me would ensure your victory and seal my loyalty.”
A beat of silence. Slow, deliberate, He stepped forward, closing the space between them with an ease that sent a warning prickling down Mira’s spine. She did not step back. She held her ground, even as he pulle backhis breastplate and reachedtowards his chest. He pulled out a small, flat, rectangular package. Without a word, he pressed it into her hands. His fingers brushed hers, firm and deliberate. He leaned in.
