Page 14 of Maid For The Dark Elf

My hand moves faster beneath the water, reality and fantasy blending until I can almost feel her breath against my neck. Her imagined fingers tighten, her thumb circling the head with each upward stroke. Water sloshes over the basin, droplets hitting the floor with soft taps.

She doesn't look away as my control cracks. Her eyes hold mine, unblinking, as the first shudder wracks my body. My back arches, a rough sound tearing from my throat. Heat spills into the water, clouding briefly before vanishing into the vastness of the pool.

I sink back against the stone, breath coming in harsh gasps. The fantasy evaporates, leaving only steam and shame.

What the fuck am I doing?

The question echoes in the silent chamber. I scrub a hand over my face, water dripping from my chin. She’s a servant. A human. Someone whose name I don't even know.

I emerge from the bath with water streaming down my skin, shame burning hotter than the heated stones. The linen towel feels rough against flesh still sensitive from my own touch. Each movement reminds me of the fantasy that just consumed my thoughts—her imagined hands, her whispered words, the way I lost control at the mere thought of her presence.

This cannot continue.

I dress quickly in fresh robes, the dark fabric settling around my shoulders like armor against my own weakness. The investigation demands my complete focus, not adolescent fantasies about a woman whose station makes any relationship impossible. I've spent decades learning to compartmentalize emotion, to view every interaction through the lens of political necessity. One brief encounter cannot undo a lifetime of discipline.

My private study beckons, its walls lined with ledgers and correspondence that require analysis. Work will restore my equilibrium—it always has. I settle behind the mahogany desk, spreading out the notes Aurelia and I compiled during tonight's reception. The familiar scratch of quill against parchment grounds me, each careful notation rebuilding the mental barriers that keep inappropriate thoughts at bay.

Therovar's reactions to Aurelia's probing deserve particular attention. The man showed genuine surprise when she mentioned extended negotiations, suggesting his knowledge of Aethan's mission contains significant gaps. Yet his subsequent defensiveness implies he knows more than he's willing to admit—a dangerous combination of ignorance and guilt.

I transcribe his exact words, searching for patterns. The way he corrected Aurelia's mention of 'advisory role' versus 'negotiations' suggests someone briefed him on specific terminology. But briefed by whom? And why would the briefing contain deliberate inaccuracies?

Lady Thessa's behavior proves equally revealing. Her sharp glances toward Therovar indicate coordination, yet her confusion about timeline details mirrors his own gaps in knowledge. They're following someone else's script without understanding its full implications.

A soft knock interrupts my analysis. "Enter."

Aurelia glides through the doorway, still wearing her sapphire reception gown but with her hair now loose around her shoulders. She carries a steaming cup that fills the air with the rich aroma of kaffa beans.

"You left rather abruptly tonight." She sets the cup on my desk, her violet eyes assessing my face with uncomfortable perception. "The Ardyn relatives noticed."

"Did they?" I accept the drink gratefully, the bitter warmth steadying my nerves. "What did they make of my departure?"

"Therovar suggested you found their company tedious." She sinks into the chair across from my desk, tucking her legs beneath her with casual grace. "Lady Thessa wondered if we'd bored you with our gossip—I think she has it out for you."

The second interpretation carries more weight. If they suspect we're investigating rather than simply socializing, our entire strategy collapses. "What did you tell them?"

"That you're prone to brooding when Father assigns you tedious administrative tasks." Her smile carries mischief. "They seemed satisfied with the explanation—apparently your reputation for scholarly pursuits precedes you."

I grunt acknowledgment, returning attention to my notes. But Aurelia doesn't leave, her presence a gentle persistence that demands explanation.

I tap my quill against the parchment, focusing on facts rather than feelings. "Sit. Let's go over the evenings discoveries."

My dear sister laughs openly, shaking her head. "I'm going to bed, brother. You can stay up and twiddle your thumbs as long as you want, but I need my beauty sleep if I hope to keep up with our little Nerina."

She bids me goodnight and leaves, shutting the door gently. And I?

I start twiddling my thumbs.

8

ROSALIE

The Vaerith estate blazes with enchanted light tonight, crystal chandeliers floating in perfect formation above guests who sparkle like jewels against the polished marble. I smooth my blue dress—my only dress—and follow Lady Ardyn through the grand entrance, keeping two respectful steps behind her burgundy silk train.

Magic saturates every surface here. Flowers bloom and shift colors along the walls in response to conversation, their petals releasing different fragrances as nobles pass. Wine goblets refill themselves when guests aren't looking, and the very air seems to shimmer with protective wards that make my skin tingle.

"Remember your place," Lady Ardyn murmurs without turning around. Her hair catches the floating lights as she nods regally to passing nobles. "Speak only when spoken to, and keep your eyes down."

"Yes, my lady."