She was standing close now, close enough that he could smell her perfume—something exotic and expensive that spoke of wealth and privilege. Her fingers traced along the stone parapet, a seemingly innocent gesture that drew attention to the elegant curve of her hands.

“Perhaps you might suggest some… diversion?” she asked, her voice dropping to a more intimate register.

“I’m sure a man of your experience knows all the fortress’s hidden corners.”

Darian recognized the game she was playing—had, in fact, witnessed her employ similar tactics on countless occasions over the years.

Elizabeth was a master of seduction, using her beauty and wit as weapons as effective as any blade.

But he was not some untested boy to be dazzled by pretty words and perfume.

“I’m afraid my duties keep me occupied,” he replied, his tone remaining strictly professional. “Perhaps Lady Raelana might suggest appropriate entertainments. She seems to have integrated well with the fortress’s social activities.”

Elizabeth’s smile never wavered, but something sharp flickered behind her eyes.

“Ah yes, dear Raelana. Such a… dedicated friend to your absent mistress. Tell me, Sir Darian, does it not concern you that Morgana would abandon her post at such a crucial time?”

“My lady follows her own counsel in all matters,” Darian said carefully.

“As is her right.”

“Of course, of course.”

Elizabeth waved a dismissive hand.

“I merely wondered about the young man who accompanied her. Such an… interesting companion for a journey of strategic importance.”

Now they were approaching dangerous ground.

Darian felt his muscles tense involuntarily, though his expression remained unchanged. “I’m not certain what you mean, Lady Elizabeth.”

“Oh, come now,” she purred, moving even closer. Her hand came to rest lightly on his arm, a touch that managed to be both casual and possessive.

“The young man we had seen in the forest. Surely you noticed how… familiar he seemed with dear Morgana?”

The accusation behind the question was clear enough, and Darian felt a flash of anger at the implication. But showing emotion now would only give Elizabeth more ammunition for whatever game she was playing.

“I notice many things, Lady Elizabeth,” he said, gently but firmly removing her hand from his arm. “But I discuss none of them.”

“How… loyal of you,” she said, her tone making the word sound almost like an insult.

“Though loyalty to absent masters can sometimes be… misplaced.”

She stepped back then, her demeanor shifting subtly.

The seductress retreated, replaced by something harder and more calculating.

“I do hope your dedication doesn’t blind you to… opportunities that might present themselves.”

“The only opportunity I seek is to fulfill my duties to the best of my ability,” Darian replied, already moving toward the stairs that led back into the fortress proper.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have matters to attend to.”

“Of course,” Elizabeth said, her smile returning but failing to reach her eyes.

“Don’t let me keep you from your… responsibilities.”

Darian descended the stone steps without looking back, but he could feel her gaze following him until he disappeared from view.

The encounter had been a probing action, he realized—Elizabeth testing his loyalties, his knowledge, and his weaknesses. She had learned nothing of value, but the very fact that she had made the attempt suggested that the sisters were planning something.

And he couldn’t believe that they were aware of Jaenor and wondered how much the witch sisters knew.

As powerful as he was, even his strength had its limits; he could not hope to fight all the witches alone.

If word spread that Morgana had left with Jaenor—and worse, if the secret she carried was laid bare—then the Mother Supreme herself might descend upon them with all her fury.

The thought alone tightened his chest.

He had no doubt that Lady Nightwhisper, sly as a serpent and ever eager to please the higher seat, had already begun weaving her whispers into the ears of the Supreme, eager to betray Morgana’s absence.

A heavy sigh escaped him, long and tired, as if trying to bleed the weight of these troubles from his lungs.

Yet the burden clung to him, stubborn and cold.

His steps echoed against the stone as he descended the winding stairs, each footfall marked by the gnawing storm of his thoughts.

Shadows clung to the walls, torchlight flickering like anxious spirits, and with every step downwards, the world above seemed to drift farther and farther away—leaving only the silence, his doubts, and the growing fear of what was yet to come.

–

Elizabeth remained on the wall walk for several minutes after Darian’s departure, her mask of seductive charm finally slipping to reveal the calculating mind beneath.

She had learned nothing concrete from her encounter with Morgana’s Black Knight, but his very resistance told her much.

Loyal to a fault, incorruptible through conventional means, and almost certainly privy to information she desperately wanted.

The sound of approaching footsteps made her compose herself once more, though she needn’t have bothered.

Katerina emerged from the stairwell with her characteristic sharp energy, her raven hair catching the brazier’s light.

“Any luck with our stalwart knight?” Katerina asked without preamble, her eyes dancing with malicious amusement.

“He’s as incorruptible as advertised,” Elizabeth replied, her tone carrying a note of grudging respect.

“Professional to the core, loyal beyond question, and utterly immune to my usual methods.”

“Pity. Though I suppose it would have been too easy if Morgana’s pet had proven corruptible.” Katerina moved to stand beside her sister, both women gazing out at the darkening landscape. “Still, his very loyalty tells us something, doesn’t it?”

“Indeed. He knows more than he’s saying, which means our dear departed witch is indeed up to something significant.”

Elizabeth’s fingers drummed against the stone parapet as she considered their options.

“What did you learn from your own… investigations?”

Katerina’s smile was sharp as a blade.

“Oh, sister, the fortress staff are delightfully talkative once you know how to ask the right questions. It seems a mysterious winged warrior made quite an impression during the siege.”

“Wing warrior? Who is that?”

“And how so?”

“According to the archers who witnessed his arrival, he fought like something out of legend. Three pairs of wings, power that combined both aura and origin energy, and a level of skill that left hardened veterans speechless.”

Katerina’s eyes glittered with interest.

“More importantly, several witnesses saw him leave with a woman shortly after the main battle concluded.”

Elizabeth turned to face her sister fully.

“Describe this woman.”

“Dark hair, elegant bearing—clearly someone of importance. The descriptions match our dear Morgana perfectly.”

Katerina paused for effect.

“But here’s the truly interesting part—the guards who saw them depart said they seemed… familiar with each other. Not like strategic allies, but like family.”

Both of them resemble each other, like they have the same eyes and facial features.

The implications hung in the air between them like smoke from the brazier.

Elizabeth felt pieces of a puzzle beginning to align in her mind, though the complete picture remained frustratingly elusive.

“Family,” she repeated thoughtfully.

“That would explain the boy’s power, wouldn’t it? If he carries Arkwright blood…”

“It would explain Morgana’s worry about the boy during that time.”

“The bloodline was supposed to be extinct,” Katerina pointed out.

“Morgana was the last confirmed survivor after the purges.”

“Supposed to be,” Elizabeth emphasized.

“But what if someone escaped? What if there was a child, hidden away, raised in secret?”

Her voice grew more excited as the theory developed.

“It would explain why she took such an interest in him, why she would risk everything to ensure his safety.”

Katerina nodded slowly.

“And if he is family—if he represents the continuation of the Arkwright line—then Morgana’s departure wasn’t about strategy at all. It was about securing the bloodline’s future.”

“Which makes him incredibly valuable,” Elizabeth concluded.

“Not just as a weapon, but as a symbol, a rallying point for those who still remember the old loyalties.”

The sisters stood in silence for a moment, each contemplating the implications of their theory.

If they were correct, then the young warrior represented both an incredible opportunity and a significant threat to their own plans.

“This is just huge and splendid news but we need to confirm it ourselves.”

“We need more information,” Elizabeth said finally.

“About where they went, who they might be seeking, and what their ultimate goal might be.”

“Agreed. Though I suspect our chances of extracting that information from the fortress’s current occupants are minimal.”

Katerina glanced toward the stairwell where Darian had disappeared.

“They’re too loyal, too well-trained.”

“Then we look elsewhere,” Elizabeth replied, her mind already working through possibilities. “Morgana may have hidden her destination from her allies, but she couldn’t travel without leaving some trace.

Innkeepers, stable masters, merchants on the road—someone will have seen them.”

“And when we find them?”

Elizabeth’s smile was cold as winter stone.

“Then we decide whether young Master Arkwright—if that’s truly what he is—represents an asset to be acquired or a threat to be eliminated.”

The two sisters remained on the wall walk as full darkness settled over the fortress, their whispered plans carried away on the night wind.

Below them, the fortress settled into its evening routine, unaware that new and dangerous currents were stirring within its walls.

In the distance, beyond the horizon where their eyes could not reach, Morgana and Jaenor continued their own journey toward uncertain destinies.

But already, the seeds of future conflict were being sown, and the game of power that had begun with the war itself was entering a new and more personal phase.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep