Chapter 78 Entering the Lions Den
This was the fourth time I'd played courier between two people drunk on love. Today, the harbor was stifling. The air tasted of salt, rot, and harbor grime. My eyes burned from lack of sleep, and my head felt like it was splitting in two.
Last night, I'd spent hours scribbling in my journal, mapping out a strategy to survive this novel.
My plan? Simple. Meet Julian, drop the letter, grab the reply, and send it off to Gisella via my servant.
Done. Nothing difficult. Or so I thought.
I'd severely underestimated just how much this world wanted me to suffer.
I reached the last step leading to Julian's office. I didn't even get to take the next one.
A man blocked my path. Imposing. Faceless. He stood there like a wall, his presence cold and unnerving. I knew that crest embroidered on his coat—Royal Guards. My stomach dropped. He didn't smile. He didn't even blink.
"Lady Ilse de Varannes," he said. His voice wasn't a question; it was an order. "Duke d'Alen?on requests a moment of your time. He is in the carriage nearby."
My brain screeched to a halt. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic, trapped bird. Claus? Here? My hands went clammy. Did he know? Had he pieced together my clumsy scheme to set up Gisella and Julian? My carefully constructed safety net was fraying, right in front of my eyes.
I couldn't face him. Not now.
"I... I suddenly have a stomachache," I rasped, clutching my middle. "I need to go home. Immediately. Tell the Duke—tell him I'm sorry, I can't."
I didn't wait for his reaction. I pivoted and bolted.
I didn't care about my pride. I didn't care about my reputation as a Varannes noble. I scrambled through the crowd, my boots slipping on the slick harbor stones. People shouted, cursed at me, but I didn't look back. I just needed to lose them.
Run. Just run.
I turned west, ducking into a quiet, shadowed alleyway. My chest was heaving, my lungs burning. There, tucked against a wall, was a dark, polished carriage. No coachman. No horses in sight.
Perfect.
I lunged for it, throwing myself inside and slamming the door shut. The latch clicked, and I slumped against the leather seat, gasping for air. Sweat trickled down my temple, stinging my eyes. I was shaking, my legs stiff and numb from the exertion.
Safe. I was safe. He couldn't have followed me this far. I closed my eyes, trying to force my heart to stop its frantic rhythm. I needed a plan. Maybe I should leave the city. Tonight.
"Are you done running?"
The voice was low. Calm. Cold as winter ice.
My eyes flew open. Every drop of blood in my body drained straight to my feet. I knew that voice. My neck felt locked as I turned toward the shadowed corner of the carriage.
Claus d'Alen?on.
He was sitting there, reading a document, legs crossed in a way that screamed authority. He wasn't even looking at me, yet his presence choked the air out of the room. He was a predator. And I had just walked, uninvited, into his den.
I swallowed, my throat clicking dryly. Oh god. Out of the hundreds of carriages in this harbor, I had to pick his. Truly, my luck was dead.