Barracks (War of Hearts)

30- Relentless

The truth reverberates within me, shaking the very foundation of my trust. I'd consoled Anastasia, believing her tragic tale—an accident, she'd said. But how many times had she orchestrated such horrors? Perhaps Lavyrle was right; maybe that child wasn't even his. And the others—had she terminated their lives herself? The very thought sickens me. Which is worse: her birthing these innocent souls, endangering Barracks, or her cold-blooded killings?

I wept with her, a fool in my compassion. How heartless could she be, letting me believe her lies?

Emma's plea echoes in my mind. I burn the letter, ensuring no trace remains. The room suffocates me, so I flee, desperate for solace.

As I return, the palace looms before me, its grandeur swallowed by the encroaching darkness. I tread the familiar path, my footsteps muffled by the weight of my thoughts. Aldaire awaits within those walls—a man of shadows and secrets. His very presence sends shivers down my spine, a blend of fear and fascination.

What if he changes his mind? The thought gnaws at me like a relentless hunger. My contract with him has an expiration date, and I wonder: Will he honor it, or will I become another pawn in his deadly game? The council's judgment hangs over me like a sword poised to strike. Death or betrayal—both seem equally likely.

My frustration simmers, tears drying on my cheeks. Aldaire's voice reaches me before I see him, a velvet blade slicing through the night. I force myself to look away, unwilling to reveal the turmoil he stirs within me. His question hangs in the air, a spider's thread waiting to ensnare me.

"May I know where you were?"

I brush past him, my words sharp as flint. "Somewhere far from all of you." The truth tastes bitter, but I refuse to be a fool.

His eyes follow me, unyielding. "Why this sudden change?"

"Because I'm no fool," I retort. "I see the strings you pull, the pain you inflict. This isn't game—it's business."

He matches my pace, and I wonder if he feels the fractures in our fragile alliance. "You underestimate my motives," he murmurs.

I halt, facing him. "Let's not pretend you care. Our relationship—such as it is—should remain transactional."

His agreement lands like a stone in my chest. Did he ever consider trying harder? I want to scream, to pound the walls until they crack. But I swallow my frustration; melodrama won't save me.

In Aldaire's office, I find solace beside Xavier—the one who listens without judgment. And then the bombshell drops: "Anastasia got rid of her child." Silence blankets the room. They wait for my explanation, but I can't meet their eyes.

Xavier breaks it first. "How do you know? Weren't you the one comforting her that night?"

"Does it truly matter?" I muse aloud, my gaze fixed on the flickering candle. "Perhaps the others had the same ending, but I'll never unravel that mystery. This evening during my walk I heard the maids' hushed conversations about her clandestine journey to Sienna. It all clicks into place now. She's indifferent, unfeeling. But how? Who aided her?"

"Ah," Himley interjects, her eyes wide. "The women here—there are some who do that, to avoid procreating our kind. Also, she has ancient witch blood but has surrendered it long ago."

"We must delve deeper," I insist, my voice resolute. "If she indeed committed such acts, we need to understand why. We can ask these women." I turn to Himley. "Can you uncover their identities?"

Himley nods, vanishing from the room. Alone with Xavier and Aldaire, I feel an unfamiliar unease.

"My time wanes," I confess. "But I promise to unearth more."