38. Seraphina
38
SERAPHINA
“ W here are we going?” I ask, though I already know I won’t get an answer I like.
Rylan has been quiet. Too quiet. His face is carved from stone, his steps sharp and calculated.
“To Vael.”
A name. A single word. He doesn’t look at me when he says it, doesn’t bother to explain.
I cross my arms, pushing for more. “Who is he?”
Rylan doesn’t answer.
Not even when we stop in front of a small, unassuming house buried in the slums.
The air is thick with the scent of aged wood and smoldering embers. The home itself is sturdy, hidden, fortified—not large, not lavish, but safe.
Most importantly, Rylan trusts him.
I don’t.
Not yet.
Rylan barely has the door shut before Vael is on him—grinning wide, grabbing his forearm in a firm clasp, pulling him into a rough embrace that Rylan does not return.
I see it immediately.
The tension in Rylan’s shoulders. The way his body doesn’t relax.
He’s not sure about Vael anymore.
That tells me everything I need to know.
Vael is a dark elf. Taller than Rylan, broad-shouldered, lean with the quiet strength of someone who’s spent his life barely surviving. His hair is ink-black, streaked with silver at his temples, his sharp violet eyes flickering over Rylan with something between relief and suspicion.
"You’re alive, then," Vael muses, stepping back. His voice is deep, edged with wry amusement.
Rylan doesn’t smile. “Disappointed?”
Vael chuckles. “Surprised.” His gaze flicks to me, assessing, calculating. “And you brought company.”
I fold my arms, unblinking. “I’m not company. I’m leverage.”
Vael’s mouth quirks. “Still collecting strays, are we?”
Rylan tenses. I notice. Vael does too.
But his smirk stays firmly in place.
"Seraphina," Rylan says after a beat, his voice clipped. "This is Vael. He’s—" He hesitates. "—an old friend."
Vael scoffs. “You always say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Because it is.”
Vael just grins. “Well, come on in, old friend.”
Vael pours a drink, leaning against the wooden table, watching Rylan with thinly veiled amusement.
“You look like hell.” He takes a slow sip. “Lartina really did a number on you, didn’t she?”
Rylan’s jaw tightens. “You heard about that?”
Vael shrugs. “Word travels fast. And I still have ears in places you don’t.” He tilts his head, considering. “She always was a stubborn one. Never knew when to quit.”
Rylan doesn’t react.
That’s almost worse.
Vael notices. His gaze flicks to me, then back to Rylan. His smirk twitches.
He’s putting the pieces together.
"Well. That’s interesting."
I lean back, lifting a brow. “Something funny?”
“Not funny.” Vael smiles lazily. “Just fascinating. Rylan never lets anyone get close. And yet—” He gestures vaguely between us. “—here you are.”
I narrow my eyes. “You’re awfully talkative for someone who hasn’t proven they can be trusted yet.”
Rylan exhales sharply, rubbing his temples. “Can we not do this tonight?”
Vael lifts his hands in mock surrender. “Relax. I’m just making observations.”
One second, Vael is pouring another drink.
The next?—
The door bursts open.
Shadows. Blades.
Lartina’s men.
Everything erupts.
Rylan moves first.
I move second.
But not fast enough.
A sharp crack against the back of my head sends me reeling. My knees slam into the cold wooden floor.
Hands grab me.
A cloth presses over my mouth, acrid-sweet and suffocating.
Poison.
Not to kill.
To subdue.
I thrash. I fight like hell.
But my limbs go weak.
The world tilts, blurs, distorts.
The last thing I see?—
Rylan.
His dagger plunging into Vael’s gut, his mouth open in a furious, broken roar.
The last thing I hear?—
Lartina’s laughter.
Then—
Nothing.
I wake up in chains. The room is dim, lit only by a single candelabra against the far wall.
The stench of rot and perfume clings to the air, sickly sweet.
Pain lances through my wrists.
Iron cuffs. Tight. Unforgiving.
A chair beneath me. Cold. Unyielding.
“Well,” Lartina purrs. “That was far too easy.”
I force myself to focus.
She smiles down at me, red lips curving like a blade.
I don’t respond. Not yet.
I won’t give her the satisfaction.
She tilts her head, eyes flicking over me like she’s appraising a piece of rare jewelry.
Or a weapon she intends to use.
“You must be wondering why you’re still breathing,” she muses.
I exhale, slow. Controlled.
"Not really," I murmur. "I know what I’m worth."
Her smile widens.
Like she’s pleased.
Like she’s been waiting for me to say something clever.
A shadow moves beyond the candlelight.
A second chair.
A second figure.
Vael.
Alive. Bloody.
Rylan’s dagger still sticking out of his stomach.
I don’t react.
Not outwardly. But my mind’s racing, thinking about why Vael betrayed Rylan. What happened to Rylan?
Lartina studies me, but I don’t show her what I’m thinking or the crack in my armor.
I don’t give it to her.
She smiles.
This is just the beginning.
“Tell me where the treasure is, little thief,” Lartina murmurs, a hard glint in her eyes. “But it’s also nice if you don’t. We’re going to have so much fun.”