Chapter 11: The Fitting

Wren

The dead don’t make noise when they walk.

Lord Alistair Sterling stepped into the dim hearth-light, his velvet cloak sweeping the floor like a shroud.

Three years of mourning. Three years of blood money, legal battles, and my slow descent into a manufactured hell all built upon the foundation of his grave.

And he was standing right in front of me.

“You…”

My voice barely carried across the room.

“Lower the poker, my sweet girl,” Alistair said softly.

His steel-colored eyes swept over Kaelen before returning to me.

“You’ve done wonderfully. Far better than I could have hoped.”

Kaelen stepped in front of me, his body rigid, the tranquilizer still fighting his nervous system.

“Lord Sterling. The whole city believes you died in the fire at the Silk Exchange.”

“The city believes what it is fed, Doctor.”

Alistair moved closer, regarding Kaelen like an inconvenience.

“Beatrix and Julian played their parts splendidly. They thought they were driving my daughter mad to steal her inheritance. They didn’t realize they were keeping her safe until the loom was ready to be reset.”

“Safe?”

The word burst from me.

I stepped around Kaelen, my chest heaving.

“You left me in an asylum, Father! You let them lock me in the dark! You let them poison me!”

“I switched the poison, Wren,” he said gently. “Every single pill. I had to let them think they were winning. If Beatrix knew you were sane, she would have put a bullet in your heart. I needed you alive. I needed you ready.”

“Ready for what?”

Kaelen’s voice was dark.

Alistair turned to him.

“Ready to unite the Houses. The blood-bond between the Sterlings and the Silk Guild cannot be sealed by a broken girl. It requires a mind that is sharp, fierce, and entirely unbroken.”

He turned back to me.

“Your carriage is waiting below the lower catacombs. The wedding to Lautaro is set for tomorrow’s sunset.”

Lautaro.

The name sent ice down my spine.

The commander of the Iron Guard. A man whose cruelty was legend across the lower districts.

“I’d rather let Julian put me back in the cellar.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

The warmth disappeared from my father’s voice.

“The silk is already spun. The contract is signed in your blood which I provided three days ago.”

He raised a hand.

Two men in dark livery stepped from the secret passage.

Kaelen lunged, but the tranquilizer caught up with him. His knee buckled. One of the men seized him and dragged him against the flagstones.

“Kaelen!”

I lunged forward, but my father caught my wrist.

“Do not ruin this, Wren,” he hissed. “He lives only as long as you cooperate. Step into the carriage, or the good doctor dies before Martha even wakes up.”

I looked at Kaelen.

His jaw was locked, his dark eyes burning into mine.

“Don’t do it, Wren,” he gritted out. “Don’t go with him.”

Tears spilled down my cheeks.

I let the poker fall.

It struck the floor with a deafening clang.

“I’ll go,” I whispered.

The mirror in the Guild Hall dressing suite was three times my height, framed in tarnished gold.

Blood-red silk covered my body, double-woven with silver threads that pinched against my skin. Four seamstresses moved around me, tightening the stiff bodice against my ribs.

I couldn’t breathe.

Not because of the corset, but because of the weight of the lie I was wearing.

“Hold your arms out, Lady Sterling,” the chief seamstress murmured.

I obeyed, staring at my reflection.

I didn’t look like a girl who had spent three years rotting in an asylum.

I looked like a queen being prepared for execution.

Lautaro stood near the doors, a glass of dark wine in his hand. He had watched me for the past two hours.

“She looks pale, Alistair,” he drawled. “Are you sure she’s strong enough to survive the night of the vow?”

My father sat nearby, sipping tea.

“She is a Sterling, Commander. She is far stronger than she appears.”

I lowered my eyes.

In. Out.

Under the layers of silk, a small bone-handled seam-ripper pressed against my waist. I had stolen it while the dressmakers argued over the hem.

Tiny, but sharp enough.

I closed my eyes, calculating.

Lautaro would take my hand for the final fitting. He would lean down as protocol demanded.

His collar would expose his neck.

Three inches above the collarbone.

Straight into the carotid artery.

“Turn her toward the light,” Lautaro ordered.

He walked toward me.

The seamstresses cleared the way.

His boots struck the marble floor like a countdown.

My heart hammered, but I kept my hands still.

He stopped before me and caught a strand of my hair, tucking it behind my ear.

“You have your mother’s eyes,” he whispered. “Wild. Unbroken. I’m going to take such pleasure in snapping that spine tomorrow.”

My blood boiled, but I didn’t flinch.

I softened my expression, giving him the fear he expected.

“I am yours to command, my lord,” I whispered.

He smiled cruelly and leaned toward my throat.

Now.

My fingers slipped into my skirt, closing around the cold bone handle.

I calculated the angle.

I drew a breath, preparing to drive the spike into his neck.

The double doors suddenly slammed open.

A guard rushed inside, pale and breathless.

“Commander! The lower vaults! Someone detonated the chemical gas lines under the east wing. The holding cells are compromised!”

Lautaro froze and pulled back.

“What?”

“The doctor,” the guard panted. “He wasn’t acting alone. A rogue faction of the Silk Guild broke into the lower floor. Doctor Kaelen is gone and he took the ledger with him.”

The spike slipped from my fingers and disappeared into my dress.

Kaelen was alive.

Lautaro turned toward my father.

“You said the doctor was dealt with, Alistair.”

His hand dropped to his broadsword.

Before Father could answer, the silver threads in my gown suddenly flared with violent crimson light.

The silk snapped against my skin, pulling me toward the open balcony as though an invisible rope were tied around my waist.

A deep pulse vibrated through the floor.

It wasn’t a warning.

It was a call.

Beyond the balcony, a single crimson thread burned through the black fog, stretching from the courtyard to the silk around my waist.

And at the other end of that glowing blood-red line, a shadow was scaling the northern wall.