CHAPTER 215: FALL OF VALTAIR [11]

Alaric looked at Vesperine. Then at Sebastian standing vigilant beside her.

His mind worked.

System. Is it because of her Soul Path that I can’t see her information?

A pause.

[No. Target have a high-grade concealment artifact. System level is insufficient to bypass artifact protections.]

So not her path. Her equipment.

[Correct.]

Vesperine tilted her head. "Anything else?"

Her tone stayed pleasant. Patient. But with an edge underneath. She’d made her offer. Expected acceptance.

Alaric met her gaze.

"Yes. I won’t be acting as your lackey." His voice was firm, not aggressive, just... stated. Fact rather than challenge.

Vesperine’s eyebrow raised.

Alaric continued before she could respond. His voice staying respectful but clear.

"I’ll work with you. Provide intelligence. Execute operations when our goals align." He leaned forward slightly.

"But I need autonomy. Freedom to move. To make decisions in the field without waiting for approval."

He paused.

"And if you give me a task that conflicts with my own interests—or puts my family at unnecessary risk—I reserve the right to decline. Within reason."

Sebastian’s jaw tightened. But he didn’t interjected him.

Alaric continued. "I’m not asking to disobey direct orders. I’m asking for operational flexibility. You want someone who can think independently."

He gestured slightly.

"If you chain me too tightly, you lose what makes me useful. I become just another spy following scripts."

Silence stretched.

Vesperine’s fingers drummed once against the chair arm. Sebastian looked ready to object, his posture radiating disapproval.

Then Vesperine smiled.

"You’re negotiating." She said it with something like amusement. "Most people in your position would just agree to everything and hope to survive."

"Most people in my position would be useless to you within a month." Alaric’s tone stayed even. "Dead, arrested, or compromised because they couldn’t adapt fast enough."

Her smile widened. "Fair point."

She leaned back. Steepled her fingers.

"Operational autonomy. With limitations." Her voice shifted. Became formal. "You’ll receive assignments. Targets. Objectives. How you achieve them is your discretion."

She raised one finger.

"But. If I give a direct order, specifically marked as such, you follow it. No negotiation. No decline option."

Another finger.

"And you report. Weekly. What you’re doing. Who you’re targeting. Progress updates. I don’t micromanage execution, but I need to know what’s happening in my kingdom."

Third finger.

"If you want to decline an assignment, you present your reasoning. Valid concerns like family risk, mission impossibility, conflicting interests, then I’ll consider. But ’I don’t feel like it’ doesn’t count."

She lowered her hand. "Those terms acceptable?"

Alaric processed. Fast.

Reasonable.

He nodded. "Yes."

"Good." Vesperine stood. Extended her hand. "Then we have an agreement."

Alaric stood as well. Took her hand.

Her grip was firm. Warm. The handshake of equals making a deal.

Not royalty and subject.

Partners. At least on the surface.

"Welcome to my service, Alaric Glimor." Her smile turned genuinely pleased. "I think we’re going to accomplish great things together."

Sebastian made a sound. Disapproving but silent.

Alaric released her hand. "When do I start?"

"You already have." Vesperine moved toward the door. Gestured for Sebastian to remove the barrier talisman. "Finish what you started with Valtair. Dismantle him completely. Make an example."

She glanced back. Green eyes gleaming.

"Consider it your audition piece."

The barrier dissolved. Sound from the gathering filtered back in.

Music. Laughter. Conversations.

Vesperine adjusted her wig. Settled the green mask back in place.

"We’ll contact you with new assignment." Her voice had shifted back to masculine tones. "Until then, keep doing what you do best."

She opened the door. Sebastian followed her out.

They moved back toward the main hall, their footsteps a steady rhythm against polished marble.

Sebastian’s gaze swept the room. His jaw worked for a moment before he spoke.

"Your Majesty." His voice was low, careful. "If you don’t mind... may I ask you a question?"

Vesperine’s lips curved beneath the green mask. She kept walking, weaving through the clusters of nobility with practiced ease.

"You want to know why I’m fixated on him."

It wasn’t a question.

Sebastian nodded once. His eyes flickered toward a refreshment table near the western wall, fewer people there, a tall window overlooking the gardens. He angled their path subtly in that direction.

"He seemed like just another brilliant child," Sebastian said, his tone measured. "Nothing so special about him." He paused, "And he doesn’t even have Glimor blood."

Vesperine didn’t answer immediately. She drifted toward the stall he’d indicated, her gloved fingers trailing across the edge before selecting a glass of wine. Then she turned, moving past Sebastian toward the arched window.

Outside, the estate gardens stretched into shadow, manicured hedges and marble fountains painted silver by moonlight. She stood there, perfectly still, watching.

"I didn’t sense his soul."

Sebastian went rigid. He stared at her back, at the way her shoulders held that impossible stillness.

Vesperine didn’t turn. She simply tilted her head, angling her masked face toward the sky. The moon bright in night, surrounded by a spray of stars that looked like scattered diamonds.

"No matter how powerful someone is at concealment," she murmured, "I can always sense their soul. The flicker of it, the shape, the color." She brought the wine to her lips but didn’t drink. "But when I tried with him..."

Her breath fogged the glass.

"There was a vast red sky." The words came slower now.

"Roaring with red lightning. Endless. Infinite. Like staring into the heart of a dying star that refused to collapse." Her fingers tightened on the glass stem. "It stretched on and on, with no beginning and no end. Just... red. And wrath."

Behind them, the gathering swelled, the music, laughter rang out.

None of it mattered.

Sebastian just stared at Vesperine’s back, at the rigid line of her spine beneath the black coat.

Silence stretched like a blade between them.

Finally, Vesperine turned.

The mask caught the light, its emerald surface gleaming. The black coat hung perfectly from her shoulders, tailored to masculine lines that erased curves and softened edges.

"I need to know if he’s an enemy," she said simply. Her voice had shifted back to something controlled, almost casual. But her eyes—what little he could see behind the mask—burned.

"Or an ally."

She took a sip of wine, savoring it for just a moment before lowering the glass.

"And I definitely want him as my ally."