Cloaked Heart (Silent Moments Series: Book 3)

Chapter 7

My mission here was singular: to find one person, and one person alone. The weight of that purpose propelled me forward, past the curious glances and hushed conversations that followed my every move. The city's labyrinthine layout meant that every corner held a secret, and I navigated the maze of corridors with a determined stride. The courtyard, bathed in dappled sunlight, served as a central hub of activity. People bustled about, going about their daily routines, seemingly indifferent to my presence. Yet, I was acutely aware of the undercurrent of suspicion that lingered beneath the surface.

It didn't take long for me to spot him, as I had anticipated. He was in the midst of his practice, a solitary figure amidst the throng. His movements were a mesmerizing dance of skill and precision, his weapon an extension of himself. I hesitated to interrupt him, acutely aware of the potential dangers that lay in doing so. Instead, I retreated to the shadows, concealed by the cover of a weathered pillar, and watched him with a mix of admiration and caution. As moments stretched into minutes, it became increasingly apparent that he had sensed my presence. In a heartbeat, his sword was drawn and pressed against the side of my neck. The steel was cool against my skin, a stark reminder of the perilous world in which we both lived. His eyes bore into mine, sharp and assessing, a testament to his vigilance and the readiness to defend himself at a moment's notice. The tension in the air was palpable, our unspoken standoff echoing through the courtyard. I held my breath, allowing the silence to envelop us, uncertain of how this encounter would unfold.

"Is that death I smell, or just the Commander of Death?" he quipped with a sardonic edge, his sword held unwaveringly close to my neck, the glint of the blade catching the sunlight.

Despite the tense situation, I maintained my composure. "We need to talk," I insisted, my voice carrying a sense of urgency.

His response was curt, a clear dismissal of my presence. "We have nothing to talk about. I need to prepare," he retorted, his focus on his impending challenge.

But I couldn't let the opportunity slip away. This conversation had been a long time coming, and the gravity of it weighed heavily on my shoulders. "I know you had nothing to do with Mt. Weather. That's why I didn't tell Lexa that you gave me the knife. This is what your mother wanted all along," I prodded, hoping to stir a response.

His eyes narrowed as he regarded me, suspicion etched on his face. "What do you want, spit it out," he snapped, his patience wearing thin.

I met his gaze with unwavering determination. "I want you to become the king," I declared, the words hanging in the air with undeniable gravity. "I know you've thought about it. She was willing to let you die, to banish you. I know you just want to go home."

His response was swift, though it carried a note of hesitation. "I will, after I win," he affirmed, the weight of his impending battle evident in his eyes.

I continued to press the issue, my conviction unshaken. "For how long, though? How long until she finds another reason to sacrifice you, to cast you out? No one can cast a king out of his kingdom," I argued, knowing that this was a pivotal moment in our conversation.

He sighed, his gaze momentarily dropping to the ground before locking with mine again. "I can't do it. My people would never take me back."

As I turned to walk away, a sense of disappointment washing over me, he spoke once more, his tone now tinged with a hint of cunning. "But... I can help you do it." The offer hung in the air, a tantalizing possibility that could change the course of our destinies.

The intricate details of our plan consumed our conversations for hours on end. In that time, it became increasingly evident that Roan's façade of toughness concealed a wellspring of compassion he longed to express. There was a desire in him to break free from the constraints of his circumstances, and this shared objective forged an unspoken bond between us. As we delved deeper into the nuances of our plot, we carefully selected poison as our weapon of choice. It was a sinister option, but its ability to remain virtually undetectable if executed with meticulous precision made it an ideal candidate for our purposes. We were acutely aware of the gravity of our actions and the moral dilemmas they presented, but the dire circumstances demanded that we proceed without hesitation. Roan, with his extensive network of allies and connections, proved instrumental in securing the lethal substance we needed. His ability to acquire the necessary supplies demonstrated the depth of his influence and the reach of his alliances.