A Dangerous Bargain
787 Words
The rain fell in a steady rhythm, soaking through my cloak as I crouched in the shadow of the palace’s eastern wing. The High Chancellor’s records were kept in a vault beneath the Hall of Decrees, locked behind layers of steel, magic, and the arrogance of men who thought their secrets were untouchable.
Xander stood beside me, arms crossed, watching the palace guards make their rounds. His presence was steady, unwavering—a knight who had spent years inside these walls, knowing their weaknesses, their blind spots.
"This is madness," he muttered under his breath.
"Madness would be trusting the wrong man," I whispered back.
Xander’s gaze flicked to me, unreadable in the dim light. "Then it’s fortunate you have me."
I didn’t answer. He wasn’t wrong.
I had planned to break into the High Chancellor’s vault alone, but Xander had insisted otherwise. He didn’t trust me yet. Not fully. But I saw something else in the way he watched me—something cautious, something protective.
A dangerous thing.
"Three guards at the entrance," I murmured. "One patrolling the western hall, one on the balcony."
Xander nodded. "I take the west hall. You take the balcony. We meet at the vault entrance."
"Simple enough," I said.
Xander gave me a look. "Nothing is ever simple with you, Elaris."
I smirked. "Then you should have let me do this alone."
He let out a quiet breath—not quite a sigh, not quite a laugh. Then, without another word, he vanished into the shadows.
I counted to three, then moved.
---
The climb to the balcony was treacherous, but my body had long since learned the language of stone and silence. The rain slicked my hands as I pulled myself up, slipping over the ledge just as the balcony guard turned his back.
I struck fast and quiet. A swift blow to the base of the skull. The man slumped forward before he could even cry out.
One down.
I turned toward the hall and—
A hand clamped over my mouth, yanking me into the shadows.
I tensed, my dagger already at my attacker’s ribs—
"Easy," Xander’s voice rumbled against my ear.
I exhaled sharply through my nose as he released me. "You could have warned me."
"You could have seen me coming," he countered, his lips twitching at the corners.
I glared, but there was no time for argument. We moved quickly, slipping through the halls undetected until we reached the lower levels.
The vault was ahead. The final obstacle.
Xander pressed his back against the stone, listening for movement beyond the door. "The last time I was in this room, I was escorting the High Chancellor himself."
I arched a brow. "And now?"
"Now I’m committing treason," he muttered.
"Then let’s make it worth it."
Xander glanced at me, something sharp flickering in his gaze. Then he nodded.
We moved.
---
The room was colder than I expected. The vault was carved from dark marble, lined with shelves of parchment and gold-sealed scrolls. But my eyes were drawn to the center—to the iron chest adorned with the royal sigil.
The proof we needed.
Xander went to work on the lock, his hands steady despite the weight of the moment. I watched his profile, the way his brows furrowed in concentration, the quiet control in every movement.
He was not just a knight. He was a man who had been forged in discipline, in restraint, in loyalty to something greater than himself.
And now, that loyalty had brought him here—with me.
The lock clicked open.
I reached for the parchment inside, but Xander caught my wrist.
A heartbeat of silence.
His grip was firm, warm even through the damp leather of my gloves. His eyes met mine—gray steel in the dim candlelight, searching, questioning.
"You’re playing a dangerous game," he murmured.
I did not pull away. "And you’re still here."
A muscle ticked in his jaw. "For now."
The weight of his words settled between us, heavy with unspoken meaning. I was not foolish enough to think Xander Damaris was truly mine—not yet. But in that moment, in the flickering light of the High Chancellor’s secrets, I saw the first crack in his armor.
Not just an ally. Not just an enemy.
Something more.
Then the sound of approaching footsteps shattered the moment.
"Move," Xander ordered.
We grabbed the parchment and vanished into the night.
But as we ran, my mind was not on the stolen proof.
It was on the way Xander had hesitated—just for a breath—before letting me go.
And that hesitation was more dangerous than anything in the vault.
- Writer
