The royal guest chambers offered no comfort.
Nymera stood at the arched window, watching the twisted shadows of the court spiral in the torch-lit courtyards below.
The city of Veyladoris shimmered under a false peace — towers aglow with silver fire, streets swept clean, banners fluttering like hollow promises.
But beneath the glittering facade, rot festered.
And she could feel it hunting her.
---
The System buzzed in her mind, sharp and insistent.
> [Warning: Assassination Attempt Probability — 87%. Countdown: 72 Hours.]
[New Passive Skill Unlocked: Suspicion Sense Lv.1 — (Detects minor hostile intent in immediate surroundings.)]
Nymera exhaled slowly, grounding herself.
Three days.
Three days to survive in a den of wolves.
The heavy oak door behind her creaked open.
A servant entered — a slim girl in midnight livery, eyes downcast. She carried a silver tray lined with delicate goblets and a covered dish.
"Evening refreshment, my lady," she murmured, voice trembling.
Nymera didn't move from the window.
"Who sent it?" she asked lightly, tracing patterns against the cold glass with one fingertip.
The girl hesitated.
"Lord Veyrand of the Crimson House, my lady. As a token of goodwill."
A lie.
Nymera could taste it on the air.
> [Suspicion Sense Activated: Minor Hostility Detected — Source: Food and Drink Tray.]
She smiled — a small, merciless curl of her lips.
"Set it down," she commanded.
The servant obeyed, bowing low and retreating with frantic steps, her slippers whispering across the stone floor.
Nymera turned, examining the tray.
A golden goblet of wine, a small roasted bird dripping with spiced oils, a cluster of black grapes gleaming like jewels.
All innocent.
All deadly.
---
She lifted the wine first, swirling it under her nose.
Nothing unusual.
But as she tilted the goblet slightly, the liquid caught the moonlight — and glimmered an unnatural shade of green for a split second.
Poison.
Subtle. Deadly.
Designed not to kill immediately, but to weaken — to make her collapse at court, humiliated and vulnerable.
The perfect opening for the Sovereign Houses to strike.
---
Nymera set the goblet down carefully.
> [System Option Triggered: Purge Poison — (Cost: 50 Fate Points.) Accept? (Y/N)]
She hesitated.
Fifty points was a steep price — she had only 170 — but exposure to unknown poison risked unpredictable damage.
Better to act now than gamble later.
"Accept," she whispered.
The System flashed.
> [Purge Successful. Poison Neutralized.]
[New Skill Unlocked: Toxin Immunity Lv.1 — Minor resistance to ingested toxins.]
Nymera flexed her fingers, feeling a cool ripple of energy wash through her veins.
Useful.
Very useful.
---
She reached for the covered dish next.
Carefully, she lifted the silver lid.
The roasted bird still steamed, golden skin crackling invitingly.
She smiled grimly.
And drove the dagger — still at her hip — straight through it.
The blade struck something hard beneath the flesh — a thin needle, poisoned and hidden, designed to pierce the mouth of anyone foolish enough to eat.
Nymera laughed softly.
"Such hospitality," she murmured.
---
The System buzzed again.
> [Survival Achievement: Death Feast Evaded.]
[Reward: +25 Fate Points.]
She straightened, sliding the dagger back into its sheath.
Poisoned wine.
Booby-trapped food.
Servants already compromised.
They weren't wasting time.
She hadn't even survived a full night yet.
---
A knock echoed sharply at the door.
Nymera tensed, but kept her expression calm.
"Enter," she called.
The door opened, revealing a figure swathed in the shadows of a traveler's cloak — hood low, boots dusty with long roads traveled.
A man.
No servant.
Not a courtier.
Someone... else.
He stepped inside and pushed back his hood.
Nymera's heart stilled.
---
Lucien Draegaris.
Alive.
Whole.
And far more dangerous than she remembered.
Without his battle armor, he seemed leaner, his sharp features harder. His ice-blue eyes pinned her with unnerving intensity.
"My lady," he said, bowing with a casual grace that somehow made the title sound like an accusation.
Nymera's lips curved into a slow smile.
"My lord," she answered sweetly. "Come to offer more poisoned gifts?"
Lucien chuckled — a low, dangerous sound.
"No. I prefer my wars face-to-face."
He stepped closer, the door clicking shut behind him.
"I'm here," he said quietly, "because I don't believe in letting snakes bite unchecked."
Nymera tilted her head.
"How noble."
"Hardly." Lucien's eyes narrowed. "You saved me on the battlefield. I owe a debt. That debt ends here."
He tossed something onto the table.
A small vial — black glass, stoppered with wax.
She picked it up cautiously.
"What is it?"
"Antidote," Lucien said. "Against the Sovereign Houses' favored poisons. You'll need it."
Nymera studied him, suspicious.
"Why help me?" she asked.
Lucien shrugged.
"Because whatever game you're playing, Lady Vaelis... it's better if you stay alive long enough to break their pretty little chessboard."
He paused, then added, almost as an afterthought:
"And because killing you right now would be... unsporting."
Nymera laughed aloud — a rich, dangerous sound.
"So considerate," she purred.
Lucien smiled thinly, the ghost of a real emotion flickering behind his frost.
He turned to leave — then hesitated at the door.
"Be careful, Nymera," he said without looking back. "This court doesn't forgive mistakes."
Then he was gone, swallowed by the corridors of power.
---
Nymera turned the black vial over in her fingers, feeling its weight.
> [System Notice: Hidden Relationship Unlocked — Lucien Draegaris. Status: Cautious Ally (45% Trust). Hidden Agenda: Unknown.]
---
The night deepened.
Nymera sat at the small writing desk, dagger laid beside parchment and ink.
The first move had been made.
The vipers had struck — and failed.
She smiled.
Let them come.
She would outwit them all — with steel, poison, or charm.
Whatever it took.
Because this time, it was her story.
Her rules.
Her war.