CHAPTER 223: FALL OF VALTAIR [19]

Alaric smiled.

"You’re looking good, Countess."

Vivienne went quiet for a moment, her eyes studying him with that particular intensity women used when deciding whether to be flattered or suspicious. Her lips parted slightly, then curved into something that might have been a smile.

"You’re looking quite handsome too, my lord."

Alaric leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking softly under the shift in weight. He raised one hand, catching the attention of a nearby server with just a slight gesture.

The young man approached quickly.

"Jasmine tea," Alaric said. "And the honey cakes."

The server nodded and turned to Vivienne expectantly.

"Rose tea," she said after a moment’s consideration. "And the lemon pastries."

"Of course, my lady."

The server bowed slightly and retreated toward the kitchen.

They sat in silence for a beat.

Just after few minutes wait the tea arrived in delicate porcelain cups on matching saucers. Then the pastries, arranged artfully on a silver platter.

Alaric’s hand came up, settling on the back of Vivienne’s chair. Not touching her directly. Just... present. A casual claim of space that made the air between them shift slightly.

He lifted his cup with his free hand, brought it to his lips, and sipped.

The jasmine bloomed across his tongue. He let out a quiet sigh of satisfaction, his eyes half-closing for just a moment.

"Now that’s proper tea. None of that bitter swill they serve in most places. This is the real thing. You can taste the difference."

He turned his head slightly.

"Ain’t it?"

Vivienne lifted her own cup with practiced grace. She sipped, her expression thoughtful, then nodded.

"Yes, my lord."

Alaric set his cup down with a quiet clink and reached for one of the honey cakes. He broke off a piece, studying it for a moment before popping it into his mouth.

"So." He swallowed, then fixed his gaze on her again. "The gold I asked for?"

Vivienne set her cup down as well.

"It will arrive by nightfall." Her tone was matter-of-fact. "Exactly as you specified. Twenty thousand in mixed denominations. Discreet transport."

"Good."

Alaric’s smile widened slightly. His hand, still resting on the back of her chair, shifted. His fingers found a strand of her hair that had escaped from beneath her hat, and he caught it gently between his fingers.

"You always efficient, Vivienne." His voice dropped lower, more intimate. "It’s one of the things I’ve always admired about you. Beauty and competence." He released the strand, letting it fall back against her neck.

"A rare combination."

Her cheeks colored slightly, just a faint flush spreading across pale skin. But she held his gaze, refusing to look away.

"It’s my pleasure, my lord."

They continued like that for a while, sipping tea, sampling pastries, the conversation drifting to safer topics.

Alaric finished his tea first, setting the empty cup aside with a satisfied sigh. He watched Vivienne take her last delicate bite of lemon pastry, then reached out.

His hand found hers, fingers curled around hers, warm and firm, and he squeezed gently.

"Would you want to go to the Riverwalk Gardens?"

His thumb brushed across her knuckles.

"I hear the autumn blooms are exceptional this time of year. And the fountains..." He let the sentence trail off, his smile turning slightly playful. "Well. They’re worth seeing."

Vivienne’s eyes dropped to their joined hands.

She stared at them for a long moment... his fingers wrapped around hers, the casual intimacy of it.

Something flickered across her face. Conflict, maybe or surrender?

Then she looked up, meeting his gaze again, and nodded.

"I would like that, my lord."

"Excellent."

Alaric’s lips curled. But his eyes shifted slightly, focusing on something she couldn’t see. The cyan panel materialized, glowing softly.

[Vivienne Valtair:]

Loyalty: 15%

Obedience: 69%

His smile didn’t falter. But behind his eyes, something calculated and sharp was already turning, measuring, planning the next move.

Not enough.

But we’re getting there.

He blinked, and the panel vanished like it had never existed.

"Shall we?" He stood smoothly, still holding her hand, and helped her to her feet.

Vivienne rose with practiced grace, adjusting her hat with her free hand.

They took a step toward the door, then suddenly she paused.

Slipped her hand from his and turned back.

"We should..." She glanced toward the window, where her guards waited by the carriage. "We should walk separately."

Her voice dropped lower, more urgent.

"I came with my house guards. If they saw us together... if word got back..." Her fingers twisted together. "My husband will—"

But Alaric pressed his finger against her lips, cutting off the words before they could fully form.

"Shh."

His other hand found her waist and pulled her closer. Close enough that he could feel the sudden hitch in her breathing. Close enough that his exhale ghosted across her ear, warm and deliberate.

His voice dropped to a whisper, edged with amusement. "Oh? You care about your husband now?"

He smirked, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he spoke.

"Where was that concern when you kissed that man in front of him? At the gathering?" His fingers tightened slightly on her waist.

Vivienne’s face flooded with color.

Deep pink spread from her cheeks down her neck. Her mouth opened, closed, opened again.

"T-That was different!" The words tumbled out. "It’s because you asked me to, my lord. And I-I did it to frame him, to help you, but now we—"

His finger pressed against her lips again, firmer this time.

Silencing her.

Alaric held her there for a moment, his gaze fixed on hers with that particular intensity that made time seem to slow. Then his expression softened, just slightly and he released her waist.

"It’s fine, you can go first." He stepped back, giving her space to breathe again. "I’ll find you later."

But before she could respond he leaned in one last time and brushed his lips against her cheek.

Then he moved away, turning back toward his chair and settling into it with the relaxed ease of someone who owned every space he occupied.

Vivienne stood frozen for a heartbeat.

Her hand came up, fingers touching the spot on her cheek where his lips had been. Her face was still flushed, her breathing uneven.

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Finally, she turned.

And walked toward the door.

Her steps were careful, measured.

Alaric watched her go through the window.

Watched her speak quietly to her guards. Watched them nod and fall into formation around her as she began walking toward the river path that would lead to the gardens.

She didn’t look back.

But her hand kept drifting to her cheek.

Alaric leaned back in his chair, one arm draped casually over the armrest, and allowed himself a small, satisfied smile.

He counted in his head slowly

Then he stood, dropped a few coins on the table, more than enough to cover the tea and pastries with a generous tip and headed for the door.

The autumn air greeted him, cool and crisp, carrying the scent of the river and distant flowers.

He adjusted his coat and started walking.

Not hurrying. Just... following.

The game was far from over.