Chapter 4
4
CAT
L ater that evening, Damien and I took a carriage to the Southern District where Damien planned to secretly meet with his brother the crown prince at The Gilded Serpent. I was too hyped up on anger and adrenaline to meet Thorne, but Damien was the boss and this was his party. I was just along for the ride.
The Gilded Serpent loomed impressively over the bustling streets, its golden facade a grand spectacle of architectural beauty and daunting mystique. Intricate carvings of serpents wrapped around towering pillars and ornate doorframes, their scales shimmering under the soft glow of lanterns that hung from the eaves. The flickering candles within cast warm, inviting beams of light onto the cobblestone street outside, inviting passersby into its secretive embrace. At the entrance, two enormous brass snake statues stood guard, their eyes glinting ominously, reflecting the ambient light with a supernatural gleam.
The cloying scents of exotic spices, aged wine, and heavy perfumes enveloped us when we entered the brothel, mingling in the air to create an intoxicating aroma that promised both pleasure and peril. The interior was richly decorated with luxurious tapestries that adorned the walls, each depicting scenes of carnal indulgence and revelry. Plush cushions scattered across low tables filled the main hall, where patrons lounged and partook in the opulent offerings of the brothel’s attendants.
Damien reached for my hand and I flinched, snatching it back in disgust. He rolled his eyes. “Let’s not do this here, Cat,” he murmured as he forcefully took my hand in his. “You don’t want to get separated from me in here. You know what they do to pretty girls like you.”
I gritted my teeth. “I don’t know who’s worse: you or them.”
“Them,” he answered me. “Definitely them.”
Hand in hand, we navigated the lavish ground floor, our cloaked figures blending with the shadows as we ascended the staircase to the second floor. The hallway was dimly lit, the walls lined with softly glowing sconces that tossed elongated shadows behind us. Only when we reached Damien’s private room and slipped inside did we allow our hoods to fall back.
The room was a secluded sanctuary, softly lit by a cluster of candles that diffused gentle, flickering light across rich velvet drapes and finely crafted furniture. A large, plush lounger dominated the space, surrounded by intricate rugs that softened the cold stone floor. Up here it was quieter, the sounds of the brothel below muffled by the thick walls.
I attempted to pull my hand from his grasp. “You can release me now,” I grumbled, my voice a mix of irritation and fatigue.
“Maybe I don’t want to,” Damien replied in a seductive whisper. He held onto my hand with a firm, yet gentle grip.
“Damien…” I growled in warning, my patience wearing thin. “You know, you really give a girl mixed signals. You’re all flirtatious, and yet you’re promising to send me home once you gain your freedom. It makes me question your sincerity. Hence why I tried to stab you with a fork.”
He squeezed my hand once more before finally letting go, his expression unreadable in the dim candlelight.
For the next few minutes, we sat in an awkward silence, the tension palpable. I shifted uncomfortably on the plush cushions, the soft fabric contrasting sharply with the harsh reality of our situation. Just as the silence became unbearable, the door burst open and a cloaked figure strode inside.
The man paused when he saw me sitting beside Damien and then removed his hood, revealing himself as Crown Prince Thorne, whom I had met during the awkward luncheon at their father’s palace.
“I see we have company,” Thorne remarked dryly, his tone cool as he flicked his eyes between us.
“Thorne, this is Lady Arya Ryder. Arya, this is Crown Prince Thorne,” Damien introduced, his voice steady.
I stood and bowed deeply, maintaining the decorum expected of my assumed identity. “Your Highness,” I greeted respectfully before sitting back down.
“Lady Arya? As in Lord Zacharia’s youngest?” Thorne inquired, his gaze shifting between Damien and me, a frown creasing his brow. “I thought... well, I thought you ,” he pointed to Damien, “were in talks with her sister Lady Gianna, and you ,” his finger now directed at me, “were involved with our brother Prince Julian.”
The mention of Julian was another tangle in the already complicated web in which I found myself. I, as in Cat, wasn’t involved with Julian, but Arya was. And since I was pretending to be her, I guess that technically meant I was involved with him. It was all a mess.
“Something like that,” I muttered, avoiding Thorne’s penetrating gaze.
“I’m no longer in talks with Lady Gianna,” Damien interjected with a hint of pride. His announcement made me snap my attention back to him. “I’ve asked Lady Arya for her hand in marriage.”
I choked on my spit, my composure nearly crumbling at his declaration. I mean, I literally just tried to kill him! I wouldn’t be so quick to jump on the marriage train. If I hadn’t been seated, I might very well have collapsed from the shock. My reaction was anything but ladylike, a stark deviation from the poise expected of Arya.
“Is that so?” Thorne smirked, clearly amused. “Well, congratulations, little brother, though I wonder how you plan to get this past our father.” He sat across from us and made himself comfortable, his posture relaxed yet observant. “Be that as it may, what is she doing here?”
Damien leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk playing across his lips as he glanced in my direction, clearly enjoying the unfolding scenario. “Easy answer?” he began, his voice smooth yet edged with a hint of irony. “She was the one supplying the vampires with the paintings. You might not know this, but Lady Arya is quite the artist,” he added. His smirk widened as he nudged the conversation into territory he knew was precarious for me.
I shot him a glare, irritated by his casual bending of the truth. I couldn’t even sketch a decent stick figure, let alone replicate Arya's artistic prowess.
Thorne stroked his chin thoughtfully, his gaze piercing as he assessed me. The room, richly adorned with heavy drapes that muted the sounds of the bustling brothel below, felt oppressively close under his scrutiny. “I've heard a lot about you, Lady Arya. Not much of it good, I must admit. Why should I trust you?”
I shrugged, the silk of my gown rustling softly with the movement. “You can't,” I replied frankly, meeting his gaze head-on. “I suggest you don’t put your trust in anyone, Your Highness.”
“Smart girl,” Thorne responded, a grin breaking over his features. “What has Julian told you about court?”
Shit . I wouldn’t know. But from my short interaction with Prince Julian, he didn’t seem one for pillow talk. “Not much,” I replied with a casual smirk. “Our relationship didn’t consist of much talking.”
Beside me, Damien tensed and a low growl escaped him, clearly displeased by my insinuation. But it was too late to take it back now.
Thorne laughed, a rich sound that echoed slightly in the dimly lit room. “Don't get jealous, brother,” he teased Damien. “At least Lady Arya is truthful. She could have lied to you since you're exiled to your island and don’t know much of what happens in Dragon Valley.”
“I have ways of finding things out,” Damien retorted, his tone icy and sharp as a knife blade. “Even from Dragon Valley.”
Thorne raised an eyebrow, intrigued but choosing not to press further. He turned back to me with a serious expression. “Well, Lady Arya, right now there are some problems in court. Someone, we don’t know who, is paying off ministers to make poor decisions in court. All we know is that the money source is coming from the vampires.”
“From the underground fights,” I murmured, a sense of dread settling over me. “Damn. Are you serious?”
He nodded gravely. “These decisions affect the emperor, but he doesn’t see it because he trusts his ministers unconditionally. I’ve brought it up to him on multiple occasions, but he doesn’t believe me. If I keep pushing, he’s threatened to strip my title as crown prince.”
“So cutting off the money supply is vital,” I concluded, then swiveled to Damien. “Which is what you plan to do.” He nodded in confirmation. “You think you can smoke out the person behind the curtain like that?” I asked skeptically.
“It’s worth a try,” Damien replied, though his voice was uncertain.
I shook my head, a trace of cynicism in my tone. “Cutting off the funds is a good start, but I don’t believe the mastermind will magically reveal themselves. I can almost guarantee this isn’t their only way of making coin. A good villain always has plans A, B, and C prepared.”
The room was filled with the subtle scent of aged wood, candle wax, and a faint hint of incense , adding a layer of mystique to the conversation and reminding us of the world that lay beyond these walls—a world rife with deceit and hidden dangers.
“What do you suggest?” Thorne pressed, his voice echoing in the opulently decorated private room.
“I suggest moving forward with Damien’s plan of eliminating the underground fighting ring,” I proposed, the seriousness of the situation making my voice firm.
“Uncle Bai and I planned to burn down the estate and the ring,” Damien explained, leaning forward in the lounger, which creaked softly under his weight. “That’s where the noblemen meet to watch the fights.”
“Good.” Thorne nodded, his face illuminated by soft candlelight that reflected a thoughtful expression. “And the coin?”
“It should be at the estate,” Damien replied.
“We should steal it,” I interjected. “It’ll be proof for the emperor once this all blows over.”
Both Damien and Thorne looked at me, their eyes widening in realization. “You’re right,” Thorne agreed, his tone decisive. “I can handle securing the coin. I know some warlocks and witches who can get in and out quickly, as long as you tell me the location.”
“That works, but we’ll need to do it before this Saturday, which is the next fight,” Damien said, his gaze sharp and calculating.
“That can be arranged,” Thorne assured, his voice echoing in the high-ceilinged room. “Now, Lady Arya, how do you propose finding this mastermind?”
I paused and considered the little I knew of Elarian court politics. “First, let me ask you this: What do you believe his goals are in manipulating the court and emperor?” I raised an eyebrow.
“We believe he wants to start a rebellion, hence why he’s working with the vampires,” Thorne stated matter-of-factly, the confidence in his voice mingling with the faint rustle of his cloak.
“So this person must be a dragon,” I stated pointedly, scrutinizing their reactions.
Damien and Thorne turned to me in surprise. “What? No!” Thorne exclaimed, his voice laced with disbelief. “Impossible.”
“How come?” I pressed, keen to understand his certainty.
“It’s the fae. It has to be!” he firmly insisted. “They’re the only ones who would want to rebel.”
“But they’re sequestered in Faelight Forest,” I countered, tilting my head thoughtfully. “That whole forest is surrounded by iron, and they can’t get out. How could they possibly be planning a rebellion?” I couldn’t admit that my family hadn’t been providing enough iron to keep the fae at bay, nor could I admit that I’d freed Klaus, but hey, it still wasn’t enough of a reason to accuse them.
“Someone could still enter Faelight Forest,” Damien interjected, giving me a knowing look. I had ventured into the forest myself.
“Yes, but who would go in there and broker a deal with the fae, who are essentially powerless, in a way that would benefit them?” I pondered aloud, watching their expressions. “It doesn’t make sense. At least not yet.” I mean, sure. I sort of brokered a deal with the fae, but I wasn’t about to admit that, either.
While we couldn’t completely rule out the fae, my brief interactions with Klaus suggested they were more concerned with survival than conquest.
“So you think it’s the dragons? Our own people trying to overthrow their emperor?” Thorne asked, skepticism painting his features.
I shrugged. “The dragons are divided into four clans, correct?” He nodded. “Yet only your clan, the Drakonars, are considered royalty and in line for the throne. Why is that?”
“It’s just the way things are,” Thorne replied, his tone dismissive yet tinged with a hint of defensiveness. “We were the chosen ones.”
His response was evasive, and I decided not to press further. It was clear there were layers to this situation that Thorne wasn't ready to disclose. The air in the room became oppressive with the weight of unsaid words as we each contemplated the tangled web of power, betrayal, and ancient secrets that lay before us.
Thorne's gaze flickered between Damien and me, a hint of unease knitting his brow. The dimly lit room, scented with the heavy aroma of sandalwood from the candles burning low on their stands, felt suddenly constrictive, the silence laden with the gravity of our discourse.
“She might be right, brother.” Damien leaned forward, his hands clasped on the table. His movement drew the shadows around him, lending a dramatic effect to his earnest expression. “If not you, then who else within our ranks desires enough power to challenge even the emperor?”
Thorne exhaled slowly, his breath audible in the quiet room. “It's a troubling thought,” he admitted, his voice carrying a weight of concern. “Our family has always been united at the forefront, but behind the scenes, there are rivalries, old grudges. Some of our kin might see this as an opportunity to ascend.”
I watched the brothers, sensing the delicate balance of trust and suspicion that existed between them. “Could it be someone from the other clans?” I suggested, trying to piece together the political puzzle. “Someone who might feel that the Drakonars have held power for too long?”
“That's a possibility,” Thorne conceded. His eyes narrowed slightly as he considered the implications. “The other clans—Ignis, Nocturna, and Blazix—have all had their grievances over the years, and some are more outspoken than others. They might see the unrest with the vampires as a means to an end.”
Damien slowly nodded, his analytical mind turning over the information. “We need to investigate this quietly,” he said, his voice pitched low. “Any overt accusation could spark an internal conflict that would only serve to weaken us further.”
“What about the vampires?” I asked. “How do they fit into this? Are they just pawns, or is there something more we're not seeing?”
“It's likely they're being used, but by whom and for what purpose remains unclear,” Damien responded. His hand went to his chin, stroking thoughtfully. “This rebellion... if one is truly brewing, is more complex than a mere power grab.”
Thorne leaned back, his chair creaking under his weight. The soft light from the candles played across his face, throwing half of it in shadow. “This is why we need to proceed carefully. The slightest misstep could give our adversary the opening they're looking for.”
I nodded, feeling the depth of the conspiracy that tangled around us like the intricate tapestries on the walls. “What about the emperor? What role does he play in this?” I asked, curious about Elaria’s topmost tier of power.
Thorne’s expression turned somber. “Father is... not the man he once was. His trust in his advisors has blinded him to the fractures within his own court. He only sees what he wants to see.”
“What about the seer?” I asked. “Hasn’t he said anything to him?”
Thorne shook his head.
The seer was the one who told me how to return to my world. He didn’t seem like a bad person, but I was not an overly trusting person. He was also the one who revealed the twin flame prophecy to the emperor and had Damien’s dragon bones and Heart Scale removed, so… maybe he’s not all that good, either.
Silence fell over us as we considered our next moves. The stakes were high, not just for the brothers, but for all of Elaria. The game of thrones was not merely a struggle for power; it was a fight for survival.
“Then it's settled,” Damien said finally, breaking the ponderous silence. “We continue with the plan to dismantle the underground fights and keep a close eye on the movements within the court. And Thorne, you'll need to watch your back more than ever.”
“With you watching it, there’s not much I need to do.” Thorne smirked and casually leaned back on the lounger.
Damien huffed. “I can watch your back from the mountain, but in the valley, you know my reach is limited.”
Thorne straightened and his expression turned somber. “I know, brother. I hope you know I won’t tell Father about your dragon bones.”
Damien nodded but didn’t say a word.
“Any luck finding your Heart Scale?” Thorne asked with a tilt of his head. “Without it, a simple paper cut could kill you.”
“Seriously?” I frowned and looked between the brothers.
Damien scoffed. “No, unless it was poisoned.” He blew out a tense breath. “I have no idea where my Heart Scale might be. I’m still searching.”
Damien’s brows were furrowed with true concern in his expression, and I could tell this was something that really bothered him. I could only imagine how vulnerable he might be feeling without it. How… human he felt.
Was I honestly feeling sympathetic for my captor? Geez. I wanted to punch myself in the face for my baffling case of Stockholm syndrome. I mean, no more than an hour ago I tried to skewer him with a butter knife. Now I was looking at him like he was a golden freakin’ retriever?
Get a grip, Cat!
“Look,” I started, “I need to get back to my prison. Sorry to cut this conversation short, but can I go now?” I said gruffly.
“Prison?” Thorne asked with a quirked brow. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing.” Damien sent me a heated glare. “That’s her dramatic way of saying she wants to go home.”
“If only…” I sighed.
“Arya,” Damien growled in warning.
If looks could kill, I would have been six feet under. I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.” I stood and straightened my dress. “Let’s go. I agreed to breakfast and nothing else. This field trip has been greatly extended.”
Damien snatched my wrist and pulled me towards him, slamming me against his chest. “Behave,” he growled in my ear.
“Behave,” I mimicked under my breath.
“Brother, we’ll be going now. It seems our dear Lady Arya is tired.” Damien grabbed our cloaks, my wrist still clenched in his hand. “We’ll be in touch soon.”
Thorne nodded. “I’ll let you know once the coin has been retrieved.”
“Very well,” Damien said. He dragged me out of The Gilded Serpent without another word.