Blood and Loyalty

Chapter 4 : The Game Begins

Devorah stood in the grand hall of the Luminarian Dominion, the weight of the dark cloak draped over her shoulders a silent reminder of how much was at stake. The hall was vast, lined with towering black marble columns, their surfaces etched with ancient runes that shimmered under the candlelight.

The air carried the distinct scent of old parchment, candle smoke, and something faintly metallic—blood. It was a scent woven into the very foundation of this empire.

She could feel their stares. Nobles, warriors, and advisors lingered at the edges of the chamber, some whispering, some watching in open scrutiny. Some were intrigued, others skeptical, but all of them were waiting—for a misstep, a sign of weakness, anything that would confirm their suspicions about the new arrival in their midst.

And at the center of it all sat Crown Prince Sean.

Lounging on his throne, he studied her with something between amusement and calculation.

“Tell me, Devorah,” he mused, tapping his fingers against the armrest, “if you were in my position, how would you handle the Valyrian Empire?”

The question was deliberate, meant to test her. To see how she thought.

Devorah did not hesitate. She tilted her head slightly, feigning casual confidence. “That depends. Are you asking how to win against them, or how to destroy them?”

A murmur rippled through the gathered court. Even some of the nobles, who had no doubt seen countless power plays, seemed taken aback by her bluntness.

Sean, however, smiled—a slow, sharp grin.

“You have my attention,” he said. “Go on.”

Devorah took a moment, as if carefully considering her response. The truth was, she had already anticipated this question.

“The Valyrians are powerful, but not invincible,” she began, her voice steady. “A direct war would be costly, even for you. They are disciplined, well-trained, and their leadership is not easily swayed.” She paused, then let the edge of a smirk curve her lips. “But every empire, no matter how strong, has weaknesses.”

Sean leaned forward slightly, interest flickering in his crimson gaze. “And what would you suggest?”

Devorah met his gaze evenly. “I’d weaken them from within. Sow distrust among their allies. Exploit their pride, make them question their own rulers. No kingdom falls solely by the sword, Your Highness. The most efficient victories are the ones won before the battle even begins.”

Silence.

Then—laughter.

Sean chuckled, low and amused. “Now that,” he said, lifting his goblet, “is the kind of answer I like.”

But she saw it—the flicker of something beneath his amusement. He was intrigued, yes. But he was also watching her closely, searching for any slip, any sign that her knowledge ran deeper than it should.

She had to tread carefully. She had to play the part perfectly.

After the court session, most of the nobles dispersed, but Sean remained seated, his gaze never straying far from Devorah.

“I don’t usually trust newcomers,” he admitted, rising from his throne. “But you… you might prove useful.” He gestured for her to follow. “Walk with me.”

She fell into step beside him, her expression unreadable. They moved through the grand corridors of the palace, their footsteps echoing against the polished obsidian floors. The walls were lined with torches, casting flickering shadows—shadows that seemed to stretch and twist as if they were watching, waiting.

“You don’t seem intimidated by me,” Sean noted after a while, his tone almost casual.

Devorah smirked. “Should I be?”

He chuckled. “Most people are.”

They reached a balcony that overlooked the Dominion, its sprawling city bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. From up here, the streets looked almost peaceful—a deceptive beauty, much like the empire itself.

Sean leaned against the railing, his sharp gaze flicking toward her. “I need people who think beyond swords and bloodshed,” he admitted. “Tell me, Devorah, why did you come back to the Dominion after being away for so long?”

The question was laced with curiosity, but beneath it, she sensed something more—a subtle challenge, a test of how well she could maintain her facade.

She met his gaze, her expression betraying nothing. “Because I don’t like to lose.”

Sean studied her for a moment, then let out a quiet laugh. “You’re either very ambitious or very reckless.”

Devorah smirked. “Why not both?”

He tilted his head, as if considering her. Then, with a smirk of his own, he turned back toward the city.

“I think I’m going to enjoy having you around,” he mused.

Devorah remained silent, watching him carefully. She had gained his interest, perhaps even a sliver of his trust.

But she knew better than to mistake his amusement for safety.

The game had begun.

And she was walking on a blade’s edge.