Chapter 11: The Silent Killer

Lorraine’s chest heaved, her breaths quick and sharp, caught in Leroy’s strong grip. Fear choked her, her thoughts screaming, How will he hurt me now? To her surprise, his voice came, soft like a quiet stream. "Shh." He held her tighter, his bare chest warm against her back, his heartbeat slow and steady. His low hum wrapped her like a blanket, calming her shaking nerves, a kindness no one had ever given her. She looked for anger in his touch, for fury at her slap, but felt only gentleness radiate from him. Why is he soft now? Her mind spun, torn between fear and confusion. Not for long. Her body went limp, exhaustion pulling her under, and she fell asleep, cradled in his arms, safe but unsettled. Morning light crept through the curtains, waking Lorraine. Leroy was gone, the bed cold beside her. Relief hit her, sharp and cool. Good. That long night was done. The memory of her fall, his rough advance, her slap... all felt like a bad dream. She pushed it away, her heart sore but firm. She wouldn’t trust his kindness, not after his cruelty. After a warm breakfast of bread and eggs, she felt steadier. She went to Sir Aldric, the household steward. Her hands signed quick and clear, "Handle Leroy today. I’m busy." Aldric nodded, his eyes kind. I can’t face him now, she thought, turning away, her cloak swishing as she headed for her true escape—the Redlight District. ----- Sir Aldric stood outside Leroy’s study, his patience wearing thin as Zara’s loud whining spilled through the door. She was upset, clearly mad that Leroy had ignored her last night, rushing straight to the Princess’s chambers. No shame at all, Aldric thought, glancing at Cedric, Leroy’s squire, who kept his head down, embarrassed by Zara’s boldness. The door slammed open, and Zara stormed out, a smug smile on her lips. She shot Aldric a look, like she’d won some prize, her silk dress flashing as she strutted off. Cedric followed, his steps heavy. What’s she so proud of? Aldric muttered to himself, annoyed. He stepped into the study. Leroy sat at his desk, removing the mask. He tried to wear it when the door opened, but set it down when he saw it was Aldric. His eyes were dark, tired, his reddish birthmark bright against his pale skin. So, that brazen girl is not allowed to see his face, Aldric thought. He looks terrible. Aldric had seen Leroy slip from the Princess’s chambers at dawn, quiet like a shadow. What happened with them? Five years apart, and Leroy left his wife’s room like a thief. I taught him to fight, not to love. My mistake, Aldric sighed. "She was loud," Aldric said, nodding at the door, refusing to say Zara’s name. Leroy chuckled, his voice rough, his eyes drifting to the window where trees swayed in the wind. "She’s a happy little gazelle, isn’t she?" Gazelle? Aldric frowned. His mistress, then? The rumors stung, but Leroy’s faraway look said he wasn’t thinking of Zara. His mind was elsewhere, lost. "What did she want?" Aldric asked, curious. "Huh?" Leroy glanced at him, then away. "Praising your work on her accommodations, probably. She sounded happy." He stared at the trees again, not caring. Aldric hid a smile. He didn’t listen to a word that woman was saying. Something else was filling his thoughts. He came to the subject. "The Princess sent word." Leroy’s head whipped around so fast, Aldric worried he’d snap his neck. "That rodent squeaks to you?" His voice was sharp. Rodent? Aldric blinked. Zara’s a gazelle, but your wife’s a rodent? Fool. He stayed calm, picking up a sealed letter from the desk. "The Princess wanted to host a welcome ball for you, but Duke Arvand stopped her. This is his invitation to a ball at his mansion tomorrow." He handed it over. Leroy sighed, his green eyes deep with thoughts Aldric couldn’t read. Aldric went on. "The Princess feels sick. She wants two days alone." "Sick? Is it fever? What did the physician say?" Leroy asked. Aldric kept his silence. When the Princess told him that, he knew she was not sick physically. She just wanted to be alone. "Tell her to get ready for the ball," Leroy snapped, his voice hard, like a command. Aldric’s heart sank. Lorraine had signed her plea that morning, begging for rest. She hated her father’s mansion, a cold place full of bad memories. She’d hate this. But Leroy’s tone allowed no argument. Aldric nodded, his pity heavy, and left the study. Looked like Leroy had his own plans. ----- In Vaeloria’s Redlight District, a dungeon throbbed with dread beneath the bright streets. Its slick stone walls glistened, wet with damp, the air heavy with mold and terror. Torches sputtered, their dim light casting jagged shadows that danced like ghosts across the cold floor. A man knelt, wrists bleeding from rough ropes, his sweaty face twisted in a smug grin. Accused of attacking a courtesan, he faced the Madame’s justice—forty lashes. He laughed inside. No way he was going to take that. Two eunuch soldiers, tall and scarred, glared down, their eyes like ice, their questions sharp as blades. "Speak," they growled, voices low. "I’m the Emperor’s best guard," he spat, his tone thick with pride. "They’ll know I’m missing. Touch me, and this rotten place burns." His grin taunted them, his thoughts bold. Everyone saw him come there. They’d know where to find him. Then, a soft jingle was heard. The air turned sharp, like a knife held close. Even the eunuchs tensed, their hands twitching, their gazes darting to the shadows. Something was coming. A faint scrape echoed from the dark, unnoticed by the guard but chilling the soldiers’ spines. From the dungeon’s black depths, a figure glided forward, her long black robe hissing against the rough stone, catching the torchlight’s flicker. Lazira, the Madame of courtesans, stepped into the faint glow. Her black velvet hood cloaked her dull-golden hair, swallowing light like a void. A blood-red Vyrnshade blossom, pinned at her nape, spilled a sweet, deadly scent, poisoning the dank air. Her leather mask, black and gleaming, hid her face, leaving only her eyes—icy blue, sharp like broken glass, stripping souls bare. Her velvet gown, stitched with silver threads, clung to her slim frame, whispering danger. A silver chain glinted at her throat, its pendant hidden, a secret no one dared guess. Her silent presence froze the room. The eunuchs stiffened, fear flashing in their eyes, knowing her power could crush them too. The guard’s grin wobbled, his throat bobbing. Who’s this? "Lady Lazira!" The eunuchs bowed and gave way to her as she stepped closer to the prisoner. Lazira... The emperor’s guard had heard of that name that hissed like venom when spoken. Looking at her now... She had a dark regality. A silent killer. A poison in velvet.