His cool gaze settled on me again, more piercing now, scrutinizing, assessing—as if searching for something he wasn’t sure he wanted to find.The air between us seemed to quiver, stretched thin under the weight of unspoken words.
“How are you feeling about this, Lady Alexander?”
The formality of my title on his tongue was intentional, laced with something almost venomous—a reminder of the walls between us.
I refused to falter.
I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze with quiet insolence.
“Quite confident,” I replied, my voice as smooth as silk, despite the storm.
Amir’s eyes narrowed, assessing, challenging.“All the other societies have developed sophisticated poisons.They have superior alchemists at their disposal.How can you keep up?”
His words were a stone cast into still waters, sending ripples of doubt through the room.
But I refused to let him see a flicker of hesitation.
“I have secret ingredients,” I said, letting the weight of my legacy settle around me like a cloak.“The English society was once known for its poisons.”
A shadow of a smirk toyed at the corners of Amir’s lips, an unreadable glint flashing in his eyes.
Then—abruptly, purposefully—he changed course.
“Have you recovered since the last time I saw you?”His tone was casual, too casual.“You were so stressed when your carriage broke down.”
His dismissive voice fanned the embers of irritation within me, the warmth of embarrassment flaring hot against my skin.
“Thank you for your concern, Lord Hassan,” I bit back, the title laced with pointed venom, a subtle barb meant to wound.“I am feeling better, but I haven’t been sleeping well.I’m far too restless.”
His expression flickered with something unreadable, intrigue maybe.Then, with an almost imperceptible tilt of his head, he murmured, “Ah.Restlessness is said to be the sign of a coming revelation.”
The words hung between us, delicate yet ensnaring, a spider’s web spun from silk and shadow.
Was he mocking me?Or was there something more?
I yearned to press him, tear through the layers of mystery and indifference, and see what lay beneath.But the moment slipped away, leaving nothing but the ghost of unanswered questions.
Then—my father’s voice broke the tension, breaching the silence with ease.
“Elizabeth, since you have decided to take your role in our society—and with Lord Hassan here—I think it’s time I show you both my dungeon,” he declared, his eyes glinting with an unsettling excitement.
A cold dread seized me, its grip tightening around my ribs like an iron vice.My breath hitched, and I forced myself to remain still though every instinct screamed for me to run.
The dungeon.
Gods.
I stiffened, the walls seeming to press inward, the moment’s weight suffocating.From the corner of my eye, I caught Amir’s head tilting ever so slightly, his dark gaze flickering toward me—registering my alarm.
Yet his voice remained infuriatingly smooth, betraying nothing.
“I would be honored, Lord Alexander,” he said.
Too eager.
The words rang hollow, too perfectly conveyed—as if he welcomed the opportunity to peel back yet another layer of the sinister web my father had woven.
Slowly, we rose from the table, and I followed their lead, each step heavier than the last, the weight of inevitability pressing down upon me.
