Chapter 13: Preparing for the Royal Gala

The capital villa of House Cavendish stood tucked away in the northern quarter, built from white marble and ironwood.

Inside the master suite, soft lamplight flickered against silk draperies. Elodie stood before an oval mirror, smoothing the waist of a gown crafted from dark navy velvet and mithril thread. The fabric shimmered like stars, its collar lined with silver scales functioning as armor.

Grim stood behind her, adjusting the silver clasp of his cloak. In the mirror's reflection, his ice-blue eyes met hers with unshielded intensity. His tall frame dwarfed hers, yet his posture held a quiet reverence that made her heart flutter.

"You look like an empress preparing for war," Grim murmured, his voice a low rumble through the room.

"I am a duchess preparing to dismantle a prince," Elodie corrected with a small smile, turning to face him. "How do I look?"

Grim stepped closer until his boots brushed her silver hem. He reached out with calloused fingers, adjusting a stray pin in her hair. His thumb brushed her temple, his touch radiating fierce warmth.

"You look breathtaking," Grim whispered, his dark eyes lingering on her face. "So beautiful that every lord will stare, and so dangerous that every traitor will tremble."

Elodie felt heat rise along her neck. She raised her hand and rested her palm flat against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart. "They should tremble. Tonight, we do not defend. We attack."

Grim's hand slid down to wrap securely around her waist, pulling her closer until no space remained. "I spoke with Commander Waylon. The northern guards have secured every exit around the royal palace. If Prince Jamie attempts a surprise arrest, my men will breach the gates in minutes."

"Jamie won't attempt a physical attack inside the ballroom," Elodie noted, leaning into his chest. "He prides himself on his public image. He will try to mock my background and claim the North is bankrupt."

"And how do we answer his mockery?" Grim asked, his thumb pressing into the small of her back.

Elodie pulled a velvet pouch from her dressing table, drawing out a sheet of parchment tied with a crimson ribbon.

"This is the official ledger of the Youngblood Merchant Guild," Elodie explained, her dark eyes flashing with sharp triumph. "Yesterday, Jamie sent ministers to block our grain shipments. In response, I diverted all trade routes through western provinces. By midnight, capital markets will experience a severe shortage of silk and spices."

Grim let out a low, amused hum, a rare smirk touching his lips. "You cut off his capital supply lines on the night of his grand gala?"

"I merely reminded him that the North produces steel, while the capital relies on trade," Elodie replied coolly. "If he wants food and luxury goods, he will negotiate with my guild on my terms."

Grim stared down at her, his eyes burning with intense pride and deep affection. He leaned down, resting his forehead against hers as his breath brushed her cheek.

"I spent years fighting battles with swords and magic," Grim whispered. "Yet you dismantle my enemies with a single drop of ink and a ledger."

"I told you," Elodie murmured back, her fingers tangling in his dark hair. "I am your shield and your weapon."

A heavy knock sounded on the chamber door, breaking the intimate silence between them.

Chief Maid Effie entered the suite, holding a silver tray containing two sealed envelopes.

"Your Grace," Effie reported, bowing. "A messenger from Saintess Ariel just delivered a greeting. Furthermore, information broker Raquel sent word from the lower district."

Grim reluctantly released Elodie's waist, though his bare hand remained entwined with her fingers. "Read Raquel's report first."

Effie broke the black wax seal, scanning the hidden cipher. "Raquel confirms that Prince Jamie has invited the High Chancellor and twenty senators to sit at the head table. He intends to announce a new war tax levied exclusively against northern territories."

Elodie's eyes narrowed into slits of dangerous resolve. "A war tax? He wants the North to pay for his private military debts."

"And what does Saintess Ariel's letter say?" Grim asked coldly.

Effie opened the second envelope, her voice laced with disgust. "The Saintess invites Duchess Elodie to join her in the chapel before the banquet begins. She claims she wishes to offer a blessing for the Duchess's health."

"A blessing," Elodie repeated, letting out a soft laugh. "She wants to isolate me before the ball so she can attempt another mind control spell."

Grim's aura flared, making the glass lamps tremble on the table. "You will not go near her chapel."

"On the contrary, Husband," Elodie said, meeting his fiery gaze with complete calm. "I am going to accept her invitation."

Grim frowned, his grip tightening protectively on her hand. "Elodie..."

"She thinks I am an easy target," Elodie explained softly, stroking his cheek. "Let her try her charm. While she attempts to manipulate me, I will slip a dose of truth serum into her altar wine."

Grim looked at her for a second before a dark, wicked smile spread across his face.

"You truly are merciless, my Duchess," Grim murmured.

"I learned from the best," Elodie replied, taking his arm as they walked toward the waiting carriage. "Now let us go show the capital who truly rules this empire."