CHAPTER 33: CHAPTER 33: NOT SO FAST

MAEVE’S POV

Lydia lunged for me, raising a diamond-studded dagger with every intention of stabbing me. I moved out of the way at the last moment.

A second later and the knife’s sharp blade would have rammed into my rib, puncturing one of my organs. It cut my forearm instead.

The sting of the wound was sharp. So was the pool of blood.

Blood gushed from the wound, spilling to the floor. The sting lingered for a moment longer before it began to heal.

I raised my gaze to Lydia’s. She was still clutching the blade menacingly, breathing hard.

"Put the blade down, Lydia," I told her, eyeing her carefully.

I had to give it to her. She had taken me by surprise with that stunt she pulled. I never could have anticipated she had a dagger hidden beneath her sheets, waiting for me.

Was that why she dismissed her maid early? The more I thought about it, the more I realized the entire thing had been a carefully crafted Lydia plan. I was lucky to have escaped with just a nick on my arm.

I gave her another meaningful look. "Put the blade down. Seriously, your arm’s gotta be hurting with how long you’ve had it suspended in the air."

"I’ll hold it however long I want," she snarled.

I tilted my head at her, a slow smirk curving my lips as I eyed the shaking blade still clutched in her hand.

"You can hold it all night if you want, but it won’t make you any less pathetic." I took a single step forward, just enough to make her flinch despite the dagger, then smiled wider. "And don’t worry—I’m not going to retaliate. Not today, at least. After all, I did strike first. Consider us even... for now."

"Y-You don’t scare me," she spat. "You’re the one who should watch her back!"

"I’m shaking in my panties. If I were you, I’d sleep with that blade under your pillow. You never know when I might change my mind." I chuckled, reaching inside my jacket. I pulled a vial from my inner pocket and tossed it toward her.

Lydia didn’t bother catching it. She just eyed it with a condescending look, all disdain.

"What’s that?"

"It’s definitely not poison," I smirked, turning on my heels to leave. "It’s today’s dose of medicine. Take two drops now and two drops in the evening."

"There’s no way I’m ingesting anything you recommend," she scoffed, finally lowering the blade. "I’m not that dumb."

"No, you’re not dumb. Just... insane." I gave her a little wave and walked out of the room.

So far, every meeting with Lydia had been chaotic and borderline crazy. I could only hope a chance would present itself soon to search her room for the black book.

After I knocked her out yesterday, that would’ve been the perfect opportunity—but then Ivan showed up.

I walked down the hallway and ventured down the grand staircase. Asha was most likely still busy with his lessons, and I didn’t want to intrude on that.

So, I took some time to traipse the grounds, taking in the few changes that had been done to the packhouse in the last five years.

Aside from instating a Luna’s kitchen, another major change was the addition of a state-of-the-art training room on the ground floor. The room had all sorts of stuff—weapons, a fighting arena, even a viewing box.

I wondered why Ash Creek needed a room like this. Unless they were planning to go to war. If that was true... how soon?

Another change to the Ash Creek pack house was an in-house movie theatre. It was almost as big as one of those commercial cinema halls.

It was surprising that members of Ash Creek’s ruling family had time away from scheming and being jerks to indulge in movies.

Someone like Ivan? I could hardly picture him hanging out in a room like that, just for fun. The theatre had probably been set up for the house members.

I walked around a bit more. At the end of my excursion, I ended up outside, next to the water fountain. A few minutes later, Marlo showed up.

She had been out running a few errands—getting herb supplies for tomorrow’s brew. That was the story we were telling, anyway. In truth, she had been getting Ash Creek intel back to Devon’s men stationed at the market.

"Hey, Marlo," I greeted her with a smile, gesturing to the basket in her hands. "Were you able to get everything on the list?"

"Hello, Maeve," she returned my smile. "It wasn’t easy, but I was able to secure all the ingredients. I’m heading to the Luna’s kitchens now to get started on the brew."

"Good job."

"Thanks," she said, walking past me. At the last moment, she halted and whispered, "Devon wants you to call him tonight with the burner phone."

My heart skipped a beat at the sound of that. "What time?"

"Nine o’clock."

Marlo walked on, leaving me behind. For the last couple of days, I’d been waiting to receive word from my mate, barely restraining myself from using the burner phone.

Devon had made it clear from the beginning that I wasn’t to initiate a call until he sent word through Marlo.

I didn’t know how long I could put up with our speaking arrangements. The truth was that, regardless of everything we were trying to pull, I missed him. I missed talking to him.

After a few days of waiting, I finally had a chance to talk to him. I could hardly wait.

Just as I made to head back inside the house, a shiny red convertible pulled into the front yard with so much speed that the tires screeched against the pavement.

The car rounded the fountain, coming to a stop at the bottom of the front steps. I folded my arms across my chest, wondering who the reckless driver was.

A few moments later, the car door rose upward and Serena stepped out, putting me out of my suspense.

Of course it was her.

Now that I thought about it, I hadn’t seen her since yesterday morning. Even when Lydia had made a spectacle in the throne room, she hadn’t been present.

Serena shut the car door, adjusting the shades perched on her button nose. Her hair was hidden underneath a designer scarf, and her dress was chic with a baby collar.

She looked like something out of a vintage magazine—elegant, polished, and dripping with that timeless sort of beauty reserved for noble bloodlines.

She could’ve easily passed for a taller, sluttier version of some long-dead royal courtesan.

I saw the exact moment she noticed me, because her shoulders stiffened defensively.

She sashayed toward me, taking long and purposeful strides.