Page 60 of Maid For The Dark Elf

The memory hits me, so vivid I can almost smell the musty air of Lord Aethan's study from a night many months ago. My heart pounds as the pieces click together with terrifying clarity.

"The old hunting map," I reveal, my voice cutting through their strategic planning. "There was a conversation about an old hunting map and some ruined watchtower."

Every pair of eyes in the room is on me, but I can only focus on Caelric's deep gaze. Despite the painful distance he's maintained between us, despite the formal politeness that's replaced our intimate conversations, I need him to understand the urgency of what I remember.

"It was a few nights before Lord Aethan disappeared," I continue, my words tumbling out faster as the details flood back. "I was bringing him his evening tea, and I heard voices from one of the guest rooms. Two men I didn't recognize, but I think they were Ardyns who showed up for a meeting. They stayed in the manor that night after Aethan retired to his room."

Maltheris steps forward, his piercing gaze fixed on me with laser focus. "What exactly did you hear?"

"They were arguing about timing and something called 'the old watchtower near the eastern border.' One of the men kept insisting they needed to 'secure the location' before moving forward with their plans." My hands shake as I recall the heated whispers that had made me pause outside the door. "One of the other men said the watchtower had been abandoned for decades, that no one would think to look there."

Caelric's jaw tightens, and for a moment, the careful mask he's worn around me slips. I see genuine concern flash across his features before his training reasserts itself.

"Did they mention anything else about this location?"

"They said something about it being marked on hunting maps, somewhere near the old mining roads that haven't been used since the silver veins ran dry." I take a shaky breath, forcing myself to meet Caelric's eyes despite the pain it causes. "They were planning something there, and now that Alaric has secured legitimacy by marrying Aurelia..."

The implication hangs heavy between us. If they've been holding Aethan prisoner all this time, waiting for the right moment to eliminate him permanently, that moment has arrived.

Maltheris doesn't hesitate. "Caelric, take your brothers and four of our best guards. Leave immediately."

"Take Nikolai as well," Aunt Nythessa interjects smoothly from her position near the window, her pale violet eyes reflecting the urgency in the room. Her black diamond jewelry catches the light as she turns toward us, every movement calculated despite the crisis unfolding. "He knows those eastern territories better than anyone."

Nikolai straightens immediately, his warm emerald eyes hardening into something I've never seen before—the look of a man preparing for violence. The easy-going cousin who joked with me over tea transforms into someone altogether more dangerous.

I watch Caelric process this information, his jaw working as he calculates distances and timing. Despite everything between us—the forced distance, the painful formality—I can still read the worry etched in the tension around his eyes.

"How long to reach it?" Maltheris demands.

"Three hours at a hard ride, maybe less if we take the direct route through the old quarry," Nikolai replies, already moving toward the door. "But we'll need to approach carefully. If they've been planning this for months, they'll have sentries posted."

"Great. Let's go⁠—"

"Wait." I snap, and suddenly everyone's attention focuses on me again. "I'm coming with you."

Caelric's expression hardens instantly. "Absolutely not. This is far too dangerous⁠—"

"I remember the map," I interrupt, my voice stronger than I feel. "I saw it spread across his desk that night. I know the route they were discussing."

"Then you can draw us a copy from memory," he argues, his tone brooking no disagreement. "Or we'll retrieve the original map from Aethan's study and⁠—"

"There's no time!" My frustration boils over, weeks of enforced distance and careful politeness finally shattering. "Don't you understand? If Lord Aethan is being held there, every minute we waste arguing could be his last. Now that Alaric has married into House Vaerith, they have no reason to keep Aethan breathing."

Emeric's massive frame shifts, his crimson eyes reflecting the same urgency I feel. "She's right about the timing. If they've been waiting for political cover..."

"The map could be anywhere in that study by now," I continue, pressing my advantage. "It could have been moved, hidden, or destroyed entirely. But I remember the path they described—the abandoned mining road that branches east from the main highway, the series of ridges that lead to the old watchtower foundation."

Caelric runs a hand through his dark hair, clearly torn between protocol and practicality. "Rosalie, if something happens to you⁠—"

"If something happens to Lord Aethan because we wasted precious time debating this, I'll never forgive myself." My voice breaks slightly on the words, but I push forward. "He saved me from a life of abuse. He treated me, a human servant, like someone with value outside of my body when no one in Vhoig would do that for one of my kind. I won't abandon him now."

Seralyth's calm voice cuts through our argument like a blade. "She's absolutely right, and we're wasting valuable time standing here debating it."

All eyes turn toward the matriarch of House Vaerith, whose violet gaze holds the same steel that's made her one of the kingdom's most formidable political minds.

"Every moment we delay gives his captors more opportunity to eliminate evidence—or witnesses," she continues with devastating logic. "Take Rosalie, find Aethan, and let him lead you directly to whoever orchestrated this conspiracy. End this investigation tonight."

The authority in her voice settles the matter instantly. Caelric's shoulders straighten as duty overrides his personal concerns, though I catch the flash of worry that crosses his features.