I returned to my room with the same calm one has after a walk through the garden. As I closed the door, the darkness in the chamber stirred. I didn't need to turn on the lights to know she was there.
Adela emerged from the shadows by the window. Her posture was impeccable, but the air around her vibrated with a heavy static—a subtle manifestation of her sixth-circle black magic.
"You smell like her, Master," Adela said. Her voice was icy, stripped of its usual servile sweetness.
I sat down in the armchair, crossing my legs with elegance. Adela approached and knelt in front of me to untie my boots, but her movements were mechanical, tense. Her eyes, usually filled with adoration, now gleamed with wounded possessiveness.
"Princess Elara is a noisy woman," I remarked indifferently, watching as Adela's hands trembled slightly over my footwear.
I smiled, leaning forward and taking her by the chin. Adela let out a small sigh, her body betraying her anger at my touch.
"Jealous, Adela?" I asked, my voice dropping into a dangerous whisper. "Elara is nothing more than a marked tool. You, on the other hand, are my shadow. Do not confuse the roles."
Adela lowered her head, resting her forehead against my knee in a sign of absolute submission, though her fingers dug into the fabric of my trousers.
"Forgive me, Master… it's just that the scent of another woman on your skin is… unbearable."
"Then take care of erasing it," I ordered, pushing her face away. "But first, tell me what you've discovered about House Sterling. Julius has been far too quiet since we arrived."
Adela regained her professional composure in an instant, though that dark fire still lingered in her eyes.
"Julius Sterling is not silent, Master. He has called for a welcoming duel tomorrow at the training grounds. It's not just a formal duel; he has requested permission from the dean to use 'real combat magic.' He intends to kill him in front of Cassane to invalidate the engagement due to the 'spouse's incapacity.'"
"Real combat magic…" I repeated, letting out a dry chuckle. "The fire child wants to play with matches. Anything else?"
"Yes," Adela added, her tone turning serious. "Prince Lucas Wyvern of Lucratis has sent two secret letters. One to the Emperor, and another to Marquis Windsteel. It seems Cassane's 'ice' has a price that even an enemy kingdom is willing to pay in blood."
I stood and walked toward the balcony. On one side, a fire-obsessed pursuer seeking my head; on the other, an international conspiracy involving my 'fiancée.'
"Tomorrow will be an entertaining day," I said, gazing at the lights of the capital. "Adela, prepare my uniform."
She approached from behind, her cold hands brushing my shoulders with a mixture of devotion and possessiveness.
"And what about Princess Elara, Master?" she asked in a whisper. "Should I keep an eye on her, or would you prefer I begin 'cleaning' her traces in the forbidden library?"
"Do not pay her too much attention," I replied, with a coldness that made the air in the room grow even heavier. "I will make her regret, for the rest of her life, having touched my sister."
I walked toward the balcony, watching as the moon illuminated the rooftops of the capital.
"Tell me, Adela… how do you think I should resolve tomorrow's conflict?"
She remained silent for a moment, her gaze lowered, before answering with professional calm.
"I don't have a particular idea, Master. I believe you should resolve it however you like."
"However I like…" I repeated, savoring the words. "You're right."
"Go rest, Adela."
She clearly did not like hearing those words.
"Master…" she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of pleading and reproach. "That woman's scent is still on your skin. Do you truly intend to leave it like that?
Allow me… to clean it."
I smiled, feeling her black magic begin to coil around my legs like ribbons of cold silk. Adela wasn't seeking rest; she was seeking to reclaim what she believed was hers by right of servitude and desire.
"You are insatiable, Adela," I said, pulling her hair to force her head back. "Very well. Erase the princess's trace."
She let out a satisfied sigh, a triumphant smile appearing on her lips as she devoted herself to her task with renewed urgency. Adela's reproach soon turned into soft, submissive gasps. In the darkness, Cassian erased any foreign trace from his skin, claiming his shadow in a night of excess that left the capital as a distant, insignificant echo.