A slow smirk threatened to curl at the edge of my lips.I stifled it with another sip of brandy, the irony almost too rich to swallow.
Because I knew his every move.
Because I was the Black Wraith.
Alexander’s eyes simmered with conviction, blind to the irony before him.“Your Anatolia society is strong,” he continued, shifting gears, sensing an opportunity.“We can help each other.My friend, Lord Francis, says you have different methods.”
I leaned back slightly, letting the firelight flicker against my composed expression.
Lifting the brandy to my lips, I took one final sip—the liquid fire searing away any lingering taste of complicity.
“You have my partnership,” I declared, each syllable as brittle as the winter air beyond these suffocating walls.
No sooner had the false allegiance left my tongue than Lord Winston stirred beside me, laboriously heaving himself upright.His voice, meant to be a hushed whisper for Alexander alone, carried through the room like an ill-timed proclamation.
“We should ask Mathias before consulting with the legendary Timehunters of Anatolia.We shouldn’t be allying with them without Mathias’ approval.”
The room tensed.
Alexander’s response came like a thunderclap, a bellow of sorrow and rage so sudden it sent a jolt through the air.
“Where was Mathias when the tragedy happened?”
His face contorted, grief twisting his chiseled features into something raw and unnatural.“He didn’t save any of them!I had to leave the festivities.And when I returned—” His voice broke, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
“Everyone was dead.”
Then, as if its weight had grown unbearable, he threw back his head and howled—a guttural cry, full of anguish and something more dangerous—something unhinged.
“My sons were among the dead.”
The cry echoed through the study, rattling the empty glass in my hand.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then, with a shuddering breath, Alexander collected himself, though his wild, fevered eyes remained.
He turned to Winston, his gaze ablaze with something far more than grief—conviction.
“No, Lord Winston.The best thing is to join forces with Anatolia.”
A smile ghosted his lips, but it was not a smile of warmth.It was the smirk of a man who had made up his mind and decided how history would be written.
“Mathias will be happy.”
I studied him carefully, my expression unshifting.
Desperation had its claws in him.
And desperation forged alliances that reason never would.
At that moment, I knew—this was a battlefield, and the true war had just begun.
I would have to tread carefully, for the path before me was treacherous.
And I intended to survive it.
“Indeed, Lord Winston, the Black Wraith must be ensnared,” I said smoothly, my voice calm amidst the storm brewing in this room.Every word was a move on the board, a carefully placed piece in a high-stakes game.“However, I suspect there is more to this shadow than meets the eye—a secondary player, perhaps.”
