Chapter 205: Under Arrest [4]

The page’s face drained of color as Alice’s command lashed through the air. His knees trembled beneath the invisible pressure of her mana, but he managed a strangled, “Y-yes, my lady,” before stumbling toward the door.

Alice rose in a single, fluid motion, the hem of her coat snapping behind her like the crack of a whip. The faint frost that had begun to spread across the marble floor glittered beneath her boots as she moved.

Amelia followed at her side without a word, the faint glow of her own power bleeding into the room like a storm on the horizon. Servants froze in place as the two women swept past them—duchess and heir moving like a sharpened blade drawn for war.

The corridor beyond was alive with muffled sounds of celebration—laughter, the chime of crystal glasses, the distant echo of music. But beneath it all Alice heard only the frantic pound of her own pulse.

Julies.

Arrested.

Every step she took tightened the coil of rage inside her chest. She pictured Emma Voss’s perfect, practiced smile—the kind she wore when she thought she had already won.

Not this time.

They turned a corner. Cold night air spilled in from a side door left ajar. Outside, the glow of lanterns marked the path toward the Voss guest wing.

“Emma dares to lay hands on my attendant,” Alice murmured, voice a low blade of ice. “During my celebration. In my North.”

Amelia’s pink eyes flicked to her. “She’s testing you,” she said evenly. “If you let this pass, the other ducal families will think you’re soft.”

“I don’t need a reminder,” Alice snapped, though the sharpness was aimed at herself as much as at Amelia.

Her nails dug into the leather of her gloves until she felt the sting of skin beneath.

—-

Emma’s eyes narrowed, her fan pausing mid-wave.

“It would be good to at least know the charges before being arrested,” Julies said with infuriating calm, his voice smooth as if they were discussing the weather.

For a heartbeat, Emma almost laughed. Bold. Most men in mana-suppressing cuffs sweated and begged; this one smirked like a guest at afternoon tea.

“A criminal, yet so lively with words,” she replied, her tone light but edged with ice.

“A criminal?” Julies tilted his head, the faintest smile playing on his lips. “I am a first-class citizen who dutifully pays taxes and fulfills every obligation of nobility. Hardly the profile of a villain.”

Emma’s gaze sharpened, a blade hidden behind velvet. “I’ve seen plenty like you.”

Julies’s smile didn’t falter. “And I’ve seen plenty of overconfident inquisitors.”

His voice was smooth, but Emma noticed the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth—too practiced to be natural. A mask.

“Unfortunately for you,” she said softly, leaning closer, “you’ve met the wrong opponent.”

The servant’s eyes flickered, but only for an instant.

Emma let a slow, deliberate smile spread across her face, the kind that stripped men of their bravado. If you commit a crime, you face the punishment. Status, wealth, charm—none of it mattered to her. Rats squealed the same in the trap, whether dressed in rags or silk.

Even if the rat wore Draken livery.

Julies raised an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance. “Huh. Is that all you have to say? Unjustly detaining an innocent man?”

“Say whatever you like,” Emma answered, her voice flat as steel. She didn’t even look at him now, instead glancing toward the door where the executioner would eventually appear.

The image of his confident face twisting into despair flickered deliciously in her mind. Soon.

A faint warmth crept into her chest—anticipation, sharp and bright. Alice had given her free rein, and Emma intended to savor every moment of his unraveling.

Julies tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “I will formally protest.”

“With what power?” Emma’s fan snapped shut with a sharp click. “You’re just a minor noble from a pitiful baronial family. Who would risk their reputation for you?”

Julies met her stare without blinking. “The Draken ducal family. The Frost earldom. Perhaps even the Voss. My connections run deeper than you think. Interfering with me could poison your own succession battle.”

Emma let out a short, amused breath. “Really? You think those families would stake their honor on you—after they see the evidence I’ve gathered?”

He hesitated, just a fraction of a second, but Emma saw it. A tiny crack in the mask.

“One by one,” she continued, her voice silken but merciless, “I explained every suspicious detail to Lady Draken. Each thread might seem harmless alone, but together? They weave a very damning pattern.”

Julies’s eyes hardened. “Circumstantial. All of it. You’re arresting me on assumptions.”

Emma leaned in until their eyes locked, her voice dropping to a whisper that carried more weight than any shout.

“Perhaps. But even the cleverest fox can be brought down by a single track in the snow. And I have more than one.”

The room went still. The only sound was the faint clink of his cuffs as Julies shifted, finally betraying the tension in his shoulders.

Emma’s smile deepened, slow and predatory. Soon, the rat will realize the trap is already shut.

At that moment, The door to the makeshift holding chamber creaked open.

Emma didn’t turn immediately. She kept her eyes on Julies, savoring the subtle stiffness of his posture, the quiet rattle of the mana cuffs whenever he adjusted his wrists. Only when the cold draft of the corridor brushed against her gown did she glance toward the door.

The air in the room dropped a full degree.

Alice Draken stood framed in the doorway like a blade drawn from its sheath. Frost edged the hem of her coat, delicate and deadly, and behind her Amelia followed like a gathering storm. Their presence alone made the lanterns flicker.

“Lady Draken,” Emma greeted smoothly, her fan opening with a soft snap. “What an unexpected visit. I thought you’d be busy entertaining your guests.”

“Release him.”

Alice’s voice carried no rise, no tremor. Just pure, cutting command.

Emma’s smile didn’t falter. “You arrive without even asking the reason for his arrest? That’s unlike you.”

“I don’t need a reason to retrieve what is mine.” Alice stepped inside, the marble floor frosting faintly beneath her boots. “My attendant does not leave this room unless I say so.”

Julies exhaled softly, the faintest glimmer of amusement breaking through his mask. “Took you long enough, my lady.”

Alice’s eyes flicked to him—a fleeting, icy reprimand—before locking back on Emma.

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