Masks And Blades
626 Words
LUDA’S POV
The gala was a glittering lie.
Chandeliers burned above velvet-cloaked traitors. Nobles laughed over stolen grain. Wine flowed like blood. At the head of it all, untouched and smug, sat the queen, her mother, radiating power and unaware of the decay beneath her gilded halls.
Luda walked among them, unseen.
Her mask was silver, reflecting light in fractured glints. Her gown was charcoal, draped to conceal the jagged scar snaking down her left shoulder—a reminder of her exile. Every step was measured and silent. Every smile contained steel.
“Smile, archivist, ”Corvin whispered from behind a wine tray, his voice low, teasing, edged with danger. “You’re the most dangerous thing in this room.”
She smiled, just barely. It was enough to hint at a threat but not enough to reveal her intention.
Tonight, she wasn’t just watching. She was delivering a message.
In the west wing, the royal granary schematics lay behind a locked cabinet. A trained thief would have found it easy. A forgotten princess, trained by exile and with a rebel map sewn into her sleeve, made it effortless.
She slipped into the hall unnoticed, moving like smoke over marble floors. Her fingers hovered over the cabinet lock, feeling the cool metal.
Then a voice froze her mid-step.
“You don’t walk like an archivist.”
Kain.
He stepped from the shadows, wearing only dark silk draped over a body built for command. Storm-grey eyes met hers. The weight of recognition hung unspoken between them.
Closer now. Too close.
His gaze fell to her hand, where a glinting lockpick caught the candlelight.
“Who are you?” he asked, his voice low and controlled.
Luda met his eyes and let her voice drop to a near-whisper.
“Someone you let burn.”
His breath caught, caught between memory and disbelief. She vanished before he could respond.
Chaos erupted behind her. Fires in the kitchens flared. Plans were stolen, nobles panicked. The Vesper left her mark again.
A nobleman’s carriage exploded in the square. No casualties. Just a message.
“The people are starving. Your feasts are numbered.”
KAIN’S POV
He could not breathe.
Not from the smoke curling through the halls or the chaos. But from her voice. That low, calm, slicing whisper—it was hers. He had known it once in battle, in quiet moments, in candlelit halls. He would recognize it anywhere, even in a room full of lies and screaming.
Luda.
“It could not be.” He whispered to himself.
Her face had changed, sharpened. Her posture was trained, her body honed like a weapon. But the whisper, the words, and the fire behind them had haunted him for years.
“Someone you let burn.”
She was back. Not as a victim. Not as the girl who had begged for justice. She was The Vesper. Controlled. Purposeful. Dangerous.
Kain sat alone that night in his chambers, hands shaking. He remembered her last glance before exile. The trust he had shattered. The fire he let consume her.
Now, she was a devil incarnate and a storm ready to destroy. He did not know if he wanted to run from it ,follow it or fight it.
I chose duty once, he thought, and lost her.
Now he had a choice again.
Loyalty to the crown.
Or loyalty to the woman who had burned, survived, and returned more lethal than any army.
Kain closed his eyes. The echoes of her words repeated in his mind. Someone you let burn.
He knew, deep in his bones, that he would not survive this game untouched.
The princess was here.Not for peace but to seek justice.
And like it or not the lion’s den would tremble.
- Writer
