"Is he dead or something?” Drayce muttered under his breath. The spoon clinked against the tin plate as Drayce scooped up another lump of grayish stew. He stared at it like it had personally offended him.Silence spread.Nearby prisoners stiffened. Hands hovered over trays. No one swallowed it. No one breathed too loudly. The simple act of eating suddenly felt dangerous with Drayce sitting among them.In Ironspike Bastion, even a whisper felt like it could draw blood. The prison crouched beneath the jagged Blackridge mountains, its name whispered like a curse among the underworld: a stone tomb where the empire buried its worst political blades who’d slit the wrong throat, warlords who’d turned battlefields into charnel houses, arms dealers who supplied both sides until the gold ran dry. Men who once made kings tremble now hunched over their trays, shoulders rounded, eyes fixed on their food as though staring too long at anything else might invite trouble.And yet the hall was unnatu

Master Halvion leaned in too close.So close his beard nearly brushed the paper.The elder’s initial sneer froze halfway, his breath catching as his eyes skimmed the ink. The flush of embarrassment on his face twisted sharply—then stalled.“Y-you—how dare y—” His voice cracked. “Wait.”His pupils widened.“Marriage… agreement?”The word left his mouth like a curse.The man beside Cassian stepped forward, snatching the document before anyone could stop him. He scanned it once—then again. His jaw slackened.“In sickness and in health…” he whispered.“Till death do us part…”His eyes slid down.Groom: Drayce Ashborne.Bride: Liora Valtarre.The room seemed to tilt.Cassian Valtarre moved closer, hands trembling despite himself. His eyes lingered on the seal, the signature—old, unmistakable.“So…” His throat worked. “Father wasn’t lying after all.”Before his own father, Alaric Valtarre had passed, he had mentioned an arrangement for Liora’s future. Cassian had laughed it off then. In th

This was the Valtarre family’s chief butler Mr. Elias Vayne. He was the man who personally received Armand Kessler whenever the Valtarre estate summoned him.“Mr. Vayne!” Armand hurried forward, surprise written plainly on his face. “What brings you here?”“Good afternoon, sir.”“Mr. Vayne—good day!”Several voices chimed in, eager and respectful.Alaric Vayne didn’t spare them a single glance.He walked straight past them and stopped in front of Drayce. Then, to everyone’s disbelief, he bowed slightly.“My apologies for the disturbance,” he said calmly. “I will ensure this matter is handled properly.”The air went dead still.Alaric turned sharply toward Selara, his gaze cold. “How dare you insult and threaten Mr. Cassian Valtarre’s honored guest?”Selara’s breath hitched. The words barely registered. Guest? Her eyes dropped to the floor, shock hollowing her expression. Around her, the men exchanged confused looks, unease creeping in fast.Guest?Wasn’t this man supposed to be an esc