Loveless/ a POWERLESS fanfiction story

Chapter 52: Blair

So let me know just how to take this,

You're way too cold,

Now show me how before it breaks me...

After the morning training session, I compose myself and head to Mrs. Hope's chambers. Mary serves us tea in her quarters, and we sit in the illusion of peace—because that's all it is, an illusion. She no longer asks about the things that wound me, and I give her no reason to offer comfort. And for the first time in a long while, I feel something that almost resembles calm.

But the moment I lift my cup, a knock sounds at the door—dull, insistent.

I catch Mrs. Hope's gaze—her fingers twitch ever so slightly, but she remains seated as if nothing has happened.

I rise, open the door, and find myself staring into the eyes of two guards and an elderly man draped in a deep green mantle.

The King's Scholar.

"Miss Archer," he greets with a polite nod, though there's no warmth in his voice. "By His Majesty's orders, I am to inspect the chambers of all castle guests."

Mrs. Hope pales instantly, her hand moving involuntarily to her lips, but in the next breath, she steels herself.

"Why?" My voice comes out sharper than I intended. "What exactly are you looking for?"

The Scholar tilts his head in a display of courtesy, though his weary eyes betray a hint of irritation.

"I cannot say, Miss Archer," he replies evenly, his tone like ice. "But I assure you, this is a matter of grave importance."

I narrow my eyes, scanning behind him—past the two guards standing at his back—until I see it.

A familiar silhouette. A white mask concealing the upper half of his face.

Warm spreads through me against my will. He stands slightly apart from the others, but I know he's watching. I feel it with every fiber of my being.

"Let them in, Blair," Mrs. Hope says suddenly, her voice uncharacteristically firm.

I whip around to face her.

She's already standing—tall and poised, her expression stripped of hesitation. Her gaze meets mine, steady and unwavering.

"I have nothing to hide from the King."

The tension in the air hums, thick and oppressive.

Something isn't right.

I hesitate at the doorway, unmoving.

A strange, heavy silence settles over the room. And in Mrs. Hope's eyes, I catch something I haven't seen before. Fear? No. Resignation. As if she's been expecting this.

"Let them in, Blair," she repeats, her voice too calm. "I have nothing to hide."

I grit my teeth, forcing myself to nod, and step aside.

The Scholar enters—unhurried, almost languid in his movements. He behaves as though he expects no resistance. And perhaps, he's right. The two guards follow closely behind.

I clasp my hands behind my back to hide the tension coiling in my fingers.

"Do you mind if I inspect the wardrobe and trunks?" the Scholar asks smoothly.

"Of course," Mrs. Hope replies, her voice unnervingly steady.

My gaze shifts to Brian as he steps into the room. He moves opposite Mrs. Hope, his posture unreadable.