Julies exhaled softly, the faintest glimmer of amusement breaking through his mask.
"Took you long enough, my lady."
Alice’s gaze slid toward him, a brief, razor-sharp flick of her eyes that carried the weight of a silent reprimand. The room chilled with it, but Julies only tilted his head in quiet defiance.
Emma, standing between them, refused to flinch. Her fan remained poised at her side, the polished veneer of a Voss noble never cracking.
"You are taking the side of a criminal, Lady Alice," she said coolly. "Do you even realize what you’re doing?"
Alice’s lips curved—not into a smile, but into something far more dangerous.
"There was never any betrayal to begin with," she said softly. "We were the ones who misunderstood."
The words were calm, but the air around her shifted like a sudden frost.
Emma’s breath caught. A prickle of raw instinct raced down her spine, an unshakable warning that danger stood inches away.
"Lady Alice...?" she managed, her voice betraying the slightest tremor.
"I won’t say it twice."
The rumors about the Northern Gem came rushing back—stories whispered in salons and dueling halls. They claimed no noble of their generation could defeat her in a true fight. Some called it exaggeration; others, outdated gossip after her recent loss in a tournament.
But standing here now, Emma knew those rumors had only scratched the surface.
Alice’s gloved hand rested on the hilt of her sword, the faint metallic hiss of the blade escaping its sheath filling the private chamber.
Her eyes gleamed like frozen steel, each breath measured and lethal.
"Release Julies. Now."
Emma swallowed hard, the fan trembling ever so slightly in her grasp despite her best efforts to appear composed.
This was no mere social sparring. One wrong word, one wrong move, and the next sound in the room would be the ring of steel.
Something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.
Emma’s knuckles whitened around the edge of her fan, the delicate ivory creaking under the strain.
Her mind raced—calculating, weighing, grasping for the path that would preserve dignity and her life.
A single misstep here wouldn’t just cost her face in the empire’s social circles.
It could cost her blood on the floor.
"...Lady Draken," she began carefully, voice soft as silk but threaded with iron. "This is... unnecessary. A misunderstanding, perhaps."
Alice didn’t blink.
The blade slid another inch from its sheath, the faint scrape of metal against leather a quiet promise of violence.
Julies, still silent behind Emma, shifted just enough to catch Alice’s eye.
A tiny shake of his head—half caution, half plea.
Emma caught it too.
It only deepened the tension coiled in the air.
"You misunderstand nothing," Alice said, her voice low and cold. "You simply overreached."
Emma forced a brittle smile, lowering her fan an inch in a gesture of retreat.
"Overreached? Perhaps. But I assure you, Lady Draken, the Voss have no desire to... restrain your servant. We were merely ensuring the safety of our conversation."
"Then release him."
The final inch of steel sang free with a hiss that sliced through the room.
The faint glow of magic flickered across the blade’s edge, catching the lamplight like a shard of winter.
Emma’s composure cracked—just slightly.
A bead of sweat slid down her temple, hidden only by the shadow of her veil.
"...Very well," she said, each word deliberate, controlled.
"You have my word. He is free. So, put down that sword of yours."
She stepped back, just enough to show her hands were empty of threat.
----
Julies Evans POV:
Everything had gone exactly as planned.
The tension in the room was thick enough to taste, but beneath the polished calm of my expression, a quiet satisfaction curled like smoke.
Alice and Emma—two noble ladies with the power to shift entire provinces—stood at the brink of a confrontation that could have ignited a political storm.
And I, standing to the side with shackles on my wrists, allowed myself the smallest, most fleeting smile.
—I did as I was told.
Behind Alice, Amelia moved with the ease of someone who already knew how the play would end. She caught my eye just briefly, the faintest smirk tugging at her lips.
My unwitting accomplice and messenger, the one who carried my whispers when I couldn’t get close to Alice myself. Because of her, every step of this delicate game had fallen perfectly into place.
If suspicion arises because of circumstances... then the surest way to kill suspicion is to reshape the circumstances themselves.
Rumors had been spreading like wildfire—that the Faceless Imposter might not just be a thief, but a demon wearing a human shell. Worse, that a parasite from the western deserts had taken over the body of some nameless boy.
And here I was: standing in plain sight, serving as Alice’s attendant.
How could anyone seriously suspect me now?
A thief hiding in chains, kneeling beside the very duchess he was accused of haunting. It was the perfect misdirection. No plausible theory could compete with a spectacle so carefully arranged.
This was the result of my planning.
"...You have my word. He is free. Put down that sword of yours."
Emma Voss’s voice cut through the room, brittle but steady. She was the first to lower her weapon—though the flicker in her eyes betrayed her frustration at having to yield.
Emma was no fragile aristocrat.
Even in the West, she was infamous for personally hunting and capturing criminals with a precision that put trained knights to shame. Her strength was real, her will iron.
But the North played by different rules.
Here, lineage meant little without the might to defend it. And Alice Draken was not prey. She was a predator by choice, the kind of noble whose reputation was built not just on her bloodline but on battles won and enemies humbled.
On this stage, Emma’s status from the West meant nothing.
"This isn’t the West," I murmured, leaning just close enough for Emma alone to hear. "This is the North. What will you do?"
Her sharp eyes snapped toward me, cold and cutting, like a blade testing for weakness.
For a moment, the weight of her fury pressed against me, daring me to flinch.
I didn’t.
Why would I? The board was mine. The pieces were already moving exactly where I wanted them.