Chapter 2 A Lie Made of Steel

I don't remember walking back to my quarters.

One moment I was standing on the glass terrace with the rain pounding above me, and the next I was sitting at my vanity, staring at Maya and Cole—my personal bodyguard since childhood—standing near the doorway, their expressions tight with panic.

"Lydia?" Maya dropped to her knees beside my chair. "What did he say? Is it true? The guards downstairs are saying…"

"It's true," I said flatly. My reflection looked like a stranger—a pale girl with hollow dark eyes and bloodless lips. "I'm being married to Tristan Blackwood. Next week."

Cole slammed his fist against the doorframe, the heavy thud echoing through the room. "That bastard. Selling Leo's sister to the very animals who killed him? I'll talk to the precinct captains, I'll…"

"You won't do anything, Cole," I warned him softly. "If Julian thinks you're interfering, he'll have you reassigned to the border docks before nightfall."

"We can't just let them hand you over!" Maya cried, her voice cracking. "Tristan Blackwood is a monster, Lydia. Everyone in the city knows what he does to women who displease him!"

"It's not an honor," I said quietly. "Don't try to soften it. Julian is handing me over on a silver platter so the Blackwood Syndicate can wear me like a leash."

"Maybe…" Maya swallowed hard, tears pooling in her eyes. "Maybe it means the war actually ends. Maybe if you accept it, no one else has to die like Leo…"

"And what about Gideon?" I snapped, turning to face her. "He's locked in our sub-basement right now. Julian promised me he'll stand trial before the council. Do you actually believe that? Do you think Julian will execute a Blackwood captain while trying to sign a peace treaty with them?"

Neither of them answered. The silence spoke louder than any confirmation.

"He will be freed before the ink on the contract dries," I said. "Walked out through the sub-basement with a smile and a hand-shake. And I will be trapped in the Blackwood estate, owned by the men who laughed while my brother bled out in the dirt."

"So what will you do?" Cole asked, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Refuse? You know what Julian does to traitors in this house."

I didn't answer him. I didn't dare say the truth out loud, not even to them. In this house, walls had ears, and sympathy was a luxury that got people killed.

"I need to be alone," I said.

"Lydia—"

"Leave me. Please."

When the door clicked shut behind them, I stood up and walked to the antique velvet jewelry box sitting on my nightstand—the only thing left from my mother before she passed. I pressed the hidden latch inside the lining.

The bottom compartment slid open.

Inside lay a narrow, non-metallic metal stiletto blade, thin as a needle, crafted from dense dark zirconium oxide. It wouldn't trigger metal detectors. It wouldn't show up on body scanners. It had been my mother's secret protection, and now it was mine.

It felt weightless in my palm. Cold, sleek, and sharp enough to slice through silk without a sound.

I tucked it inside the interior lining of my high-collared dress, right against my ribs where the tight fabric held it flush. For once, the modest, restrictive wardrobe Julian forced on me was useful.

At eight o'clock, I walked down to the formal dining hall.

Julian sat at the head of the polished oak table, sipping aged scotch while reviewing financial ledgers on a tablet. He raised an eyebrow as I took my seat.

"You've come down," he noted.

I made myself hold his gaze, letting every trace of defiance drain from my face, replacing it with a quiet, hollow submissiveness.

"I thought about what you said, Uncle," I said, keeping my voice low and steady. "I want peace for this family. If marrying Tristan Blackwood is what keeps the Mark Syndicate safe, I will do my duty."

Julian studied me for three agonized seconds. Then, slowly, his shoulders relaxed. The tight line of his jaw softened into a smug, self-satisfied smile.

"I knew you were a smart girl, Lydia," he said, taking another sip of scotch. "Your brother had too much pride for his own good. I'm glad to see you inherited your mother's sense of self-preservation."

"I learned from the best," I replied.

He chuckled, entirely blind to the venom beneath my words. "Get an early night. The Blackwood delegation arrives at noon tomorrow to sign the preliminary trade agreements."

"I will."

I went back to my room, locked the door, and sat in the dark.

I waited until the grandfather clock in the foyer chimed midnight. I waited until the heavy footsteps of the house guards grew slow and predictable on their rotation routes.

Then I slipped on a dark coat, felt the cold weight of the metal blade against my ribs, and stepped into the shadowy corridors—heading straight for the elevator that led down into the subterranean vaults beneath the estate.