[Emerald Castle, Crown Prince's Study
Elara left the room, the door clicking shut behind her.
Kaelen stood still, gazing at the closed wooden panels. "How very kind of you." She planted her hands on the desk, casting her shadow over his papers. "So, Your Highness, what sounds are we going to make now?"
She didn't wait for a response. She pulled back the veil, letting the heavy silk cascade down. She tilted her chin, the fabric of her sleeve brushing against her wrist. She held the pose, eyes boring into his, searching for a tremor or a skipped beat.
Alden didn't blink. Her gaze met dull stone—the eyes of a man who had stared into the sun and could no longer be dazzled by a mere spark.
Only a vague memory flickered—a version of this woman with more lines around her eyes and more blood on her hands, trying this same pathetic trick. It hadn't worked in the timeline he’d buried; it certainly wouldn't work now.
Alden’s eyes didn’t follow the curve of her neck. Instead, they fixated on the faint, metallic grey staining her hairline—mercury.
"The mourning bells for the Empress haven't even stopped ringing, yet here you sit." Her voice sharpened. "Seven years you spent scouring the world for a cure. But the moment her heart stopped? You volunteered for the Test."
The accusations washed over him. His thumb casually traced the smooth rim of his glass. Silence was his only answer.
Kaelen stepped closer, filling the void he refused to break. "In less than a week after the funeral, you devoured two Towers. You move fast, Your Highness. Perhaps too fast for a grieving son. And now, fresh from victory, you summon the city's most notorious poisoner. You aren't hiding your tracks very well."
She turned to the bookshelves lining the walls. "You want my cooperation to get insider information on Green Spire. Alas... what can I do? I am just an outcast. Not worthy of such a role."
She glanced back. Still nothing. Not a twitch, not a breath. She stopped pacing, body going rigid near the bound histories. "After I said this much, Your Highness, won't you at least acknowledge my effort?"
"My previous question, Lady Kaelen," Alden said, "remains unanswered."
The corner of her lips twitched. She paused, tilting her head in a practiced, playful recovery. "You did not drag me from my turf to talk about paralysis poisons. Did you?"
Alden tilted his head. "Hmm? And what makes you think that?”
"If you wanted answers, you would have summoned the Physician. If you wanted discretion, you would have called Torvenn."
Kaelen placed her elbows on the desk, the heavy silk of her sleeves sweeping across his documents. She leaned in until her reflection filled his eyes.
"Skip the threats and preamble, Your Highness. We both know why I am here." Her voice dropped. "Put gold on the table. Make it heavy enough, and I am yours for the day. Just name the poison you want made..."
"Ohh..." A slow, humorless smile spread across his face. He opened a drawer and retrieved two heavy crystal glasses and a decanter filled with amber liquid. "Is that so?"
With deliberate calm, he poured. The heavy crystal slid over the polished wood with a low rasp, coming to a stop inches from her hand. Not a single drop spilled.
"Then, how much… " Alden drawled, picking up his own glass and swirling the contents. "For your entire life?"
Kaelen froze.
"My entire life?" She looked down at the amber liquid shattering the light into golden and blood-orange sparks. "Your Highness. Mercenaries are expensive. And those who know alchemy are rarer than gold."
"I see... " He took a sip, studying her over the rim. "Your answer?"
The glass rested between them. She glanced at the closed door, then back at him. Her hand extended, brushing against the crystal. The liquid rippled, betraying her rigid posture.
Taking a sip, she hummed. "My price? It fluctuates, Your Highness. But for a life contract?" She leaned back, voice dripping with disdain. "I would demand the Green Spire itself. I want the Tower Master’s seat. I want the Council dissolved."
'Would you look at that?' Alden mused, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. "And you think you are worth that much?"
Kaelen sank back into the chair, the brittle tension finally snapping. She took a slow, victorious sip. "Am I not? Don't tell me, Your Highness, you can't afford it? Torvenn, unlike Geralt, is not a fool who would leave evidence in plain sight." She paused.
Her heels scraped against the floorboards before she added playfully, "You see, I am quite a busy person. So, let's discuss something feasible."
Alden smirked. She hadn’t changed; the more he observed her, the clearer the memories became.
He had spent years chasing her shadow, but the Spire always reclaimed their property before he could ask his questions.
A phantom pain shot through Alden’s gut—a burning echo of the cocktails she’d fed him in the past, pouring poison while begging him to die quickly. His hand tightened around the crystal glass.
'Feasible,' Alden thought, forcing his grip to relax before the glass snapped. 'Yes. Let us be feasible.'
Setting his glass down, Alden glanced at the window, focusing on a red bird flitting past the glass. "My apologies, Lady, but you misunderstood my question." He continued in a gentler tone. "I was asking you, is that truly all?"
Kaelen’s breathing hitched, her heart pounding at nearly one hundred and fifty-five beats per minute—too fast.
She scanned his face, muttering, "Why not discuss that once you’ve accomplished this, Your Highness?"
The bird flew away. Alden turned back to her. Her grip on the glass had whitened. "I can’t let you backpedal after that, now can I, Lady?"
Kaelen’s gaze turned cold. "I, Kaelen, have never broken my word. If you really manage this... if you can give me his head..." Her breathing turned shallow. "I will give you my all. Add my loyalty to the scale. You can own me, use me, discard me when you're done." She stepped closer, eyes defiant.
Alden let the silence hang, knowing it wasn't quite the response she wanted. "The loyalty of the Veiled Poison… acceptable."
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"Your Highness, you’re making this far too difficult," she snapped. "I’ll concoct the poison you desire if you pay me a heavy sum. Rest assured, my lips will remain sealed."
She turned toward the door, brushing invisible dust from her sleeves—a theatrical display of dismissal. But Alden just waited.
Sure enough, her hand froze on the frame. Her shoulders tensed. 'She couldn't do it,' he realized with a touch of amusement. 'She couldn't leave without having the last word.'
"Playing solo is perilous, Prince. You may be wise, but the vultures have reach. Grow up. Deal with the living before you avenge the dead."
Alden remained seated, fingers tapping gently on the desk. He sipped his drink as she reached for the handle. Flight instinct. Predictable.
He chuckled. "Are you certain, Lady? Don't you want to be... free from those men?"
Kaelen went rigid. The blood left her face so fast she looked like the porcelain she had just set down. In slow motion, she spun around, back pressing against the wood.
A shaky parody of a smile formed on her lips. "What do you mean by that, Your Highness?" Her voice cracked. "Stop this... It is vile."
"All I am saying is... I can help you." Alden placed his drink down, rested his arm on the desk, and pinned her with a stare. "But you must make a payment for that."
The shift was absolute. The seductress dissolved, replaced by a creature that flinched when his shadow moved across the desk. "Help me, you say?"
Alden closed his eyes.
"Payment? Of course... Did they sell me to you?" Kaelen choked out. "No wonder you knew so much about me. To think... I actually pitied you."
Alden opened his eyes. Her languid grace had vanished; her lips peeled back, teeth bared in a snarl. "So, you didn’t want the Veiled Poison or the merchant. What you wanted was… Kaelen, the slave." Her voice rose an octave. "What now? Do you want to silence me, or do you prefer bound flesh...?"
Alden studied the raw terror in her eyes. It wasn't the fear of a mercenary losing a contract; it was the terror of a runaway slave hearing the master’s whistle.
She tried to stand her ground, but her body betrayed the bravado. Her shoulders hunched toward her ears, guarding the line of her throat. Her gaze dropped from his face to his waist, watching for the slightest movement.
So that was it. The memory of her execution flashed—her mouth moving, soundless, fighting to scream a name that never came.
Alden held her gaze for a second, then dismissed her, turning back to the window.
There was no charity in this world; only exchange. He needed to break her chains and obtain her testimony.
He turned back to her trembling figure, pausing for a moment.
Was she this weak then? No, she was tougher. This much exposure wasn’t nearly enough to break her.
Perhaps... he could soften the grip. Just slightly.
"There’s a cure I need you to make," he stated, voice distant. "It must be done in complete secrecy..."
"A cure?" Kaelen sneered, reaching for her buttons. "Is that how we are approaching it? Fine. I’ll endure your games, but for the first day, conclude this quickly…"
"The cure for Pale-Wind Orchid poison…" Alden interrupted, leaning back and resting his fingers. "Also… Master Torvenn will be vacating his position tomorrow morning, along with the rest of the Council."
"Vacating?" Her hand froze, leaving her voice hushed. Her eyes narrowed. "What are you—"
"Why?" Alden's voice remained flat. "Are you getting scared now, My Lady?"
He opened a drawer and took out a sealed letter before ringing the bell. Kaelen pushed away from the wood, hastily retreating to her seat, regaining her graceful posture.
The lock clicked open, and Captain Lut stepped inside. His eyes darted awkwardly around the room before he lowered his head.
"Your Highness."
Alden handed him the letter.
"Mobilize the Flame Feather to the Green Spire. Secure the Council. If Torvenn breathes a word of resistance, cut him down." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Charge: Collusion with the enemy kingdom."
Kaelen’s eyes narrowed, tracking the letter as it changed hands.
The guard captain accepted it with both hands and vanished.
The door closed. Kaelen stared at the wood where Captain Lut had stood. "Wh... what?" she stammered.
Then, a laugh.
"You’re insane!" Her gasps caught between terror and laughter. "You’re really… doing this? For me?" Her eyes widened. "You’ll burn the entire forest just to kill one snake?"
"Is that important?" Alden took another sip and set his glass down. "What you asked for is the Spire. And how I choose to pay..." He languidly recited his words. "...is irrelevant."
Kaelen stood up.
"Your Highness," she whispered, leaning over the desk, terror dissolving into a hungry plea. "His throat is mine."
"Alright. He’s all yours." Alden replied without giving it much thought.
Kaelen rounded the desk. Her hand reached for his gloved fist, her body pressing against the mahogany. "Then Your Highness, let me pay you... Right now." With her other hand, she withdrew a needle filled with pink liquid from her sleeve. "This will make you feel immense pleasure when…"
Alden didn't look up. He shifted his grip to the glass, leaving her fingers touching nothing but air.
"Stop testing me and sit down, Lady. I have no use for that." He stared at the liquid. "First, I need you to speak."
Kaelen snatched her hand back. She sank into her chair, smoothing the folds of her dress, eyes anywhere but on him. "That… I can’t do. Observe."
She opened her mouth. Her jaw snapped shut, fingers digging into her collarbone, scratching at skin turning violently red, battling a phantom grip.
Alden’s finger twitched. If the Spire had gone to such lengths to gag her, the secrets she held were worth more than the gold he had bet on.
"In that case..." He slid the blank vellum forward and, opened his glove from one hand. Then, he bit his thumb and pressed the droplet down. The blood hissed, smoking against the parchment, dragging itself into jagged, wet characters. Power and Torvenn’s Head for Kaelen’s Loyalty. The magic throbbed on the page, demanding a signature to seal the exchange of life for death.
"Sign," he ordered. "... with your blood."
Kaelen gasped, clutching her chest as if trying to pull invisible fingers from her ribcage. She gripped the leather armrests until the wood creaked. "I can't... I already have..." she wheezed.
"Lady Kaelen, what I need can't wait." Alden tapped the paper, his shadow falling over the contract. He muttered, "Mud chains are broken by iron. Gold by diamond. As for the ones binding you to the Spire…" He tapped the stain again. "I am offering to shatter those entirely."
Alden offered no handkerchief; instead, he wore his glove, covering the fresh wound.
She cackled.
"Sever the bond? You think... I have not tried?" Her eyes were wide and wet, knuckles white on the desk. "You will just become another..."
Her trembling spread from her hands to her jaw. She was bracing for a Slave Binding—total submission, zero cost to the master.
Alden knew better. The Spire’s hold was too deep to be picked; it had to be crushed. He needed the weight of a mutual Geas. Only by placing his own liability on the scale could he create an anchor heavy enough to snap her previous chains.
She didn’t need to know that.
"I’m not asking you to believe me," Alden said, voice indifferent. "You’ll get Torvenn’s head, and I need your truth. I can’t have you loyal to those I’m about to destroy. Choose, Veiled Poison."
Kaelen glanced at the paper, then at him, as if a realization dawned on her.
She set her glass down. Her hand moved stiffly to her mouth. She bit her thumb and pressed it onto the paper.
Blood spread across the parchment.
Finally. The binding snapped—he could see it in the way she gasped.
Kaelen coughed—a wet, hacking sound as the invisible gag dissolved.
"Torvenn... you bastard!"
The curse slipped out—first as a whisper, then a snarl. Her hands flew to her neck, fingers kneading skin that should have been bruised under invisible pressure.
"Ahh... my throat, Prince..."
Her words dissolved into a shuddering, breathless moan against the quiet walls, a manic relief of a prisoner’s chains finally broken.
A manic grin split her face. She looked at Alden, trembling with a dark, feverish rush.
"I can't wait anymore, Your Highness. Give it to me!" She looked up at him, her voice pitching into a desperate plea. "Give me the head to grace my bedchamber!"
Alden’s gaze flicked to the closed door.
Closing his eyes, he sighed.
Kaelen blinked, the wildness in her eyes gradually giving way to a mask of sickly-sweet compliance.
"My, how disgraceful of me. Let me make amends, now that I’m officially yours, dear Prince." She purred, looking up at him through her lashes. "This contract is... quite different from what I imagined." She tilted her head, a sly expression dancing across her face. "You’re surprisingly sweet. So Torvenn didn't sell me to you?"
"Why would I buy you from him?" Alden tapped the table once. Before she could so much as part her lips to answer, he cut through the air with a second, sharper inquiry. "Can you create the cure?"
The laughter abruptly ceased, and an oppressive silence enveloped the room. Clearing her throat, Kaelen straightened, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her lowered veil. "The cure you mentioned can't be made here, Your Highness. Ravencliff. I must go there."
"It will take too long via the legal channels, but I can arrange that." Alden nodded, taking the parchment from her hand. "Now Veiled Poison, tell me everything you know about the alliance between the Green Spire and Ravencliff." He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "And was it you who crafted the poison for my mother?"
Kaelen’s head snapped up, pupils blowing wide in horror. But her body didn’t freeze this time. The words spilled out, accompanied only by air. The invisible garrote was gone.
