Chapter 3 - Shadows and Silk
Dr. Aris finished stitching the deep laceration in Vesna's side just as the gray dawn broke over the harbor.
"She lost a dangerous amount of blood, Lord Vosa," the doctor said, wiping his instruments with alcohol. He glanced nervously at Vuk, who was lying flat under the bed, his dark eyes tracking the doctor's every move. "The blade missed her kidney by less than an inch. She cut herself during the struggle with the dog, or..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "...or she was defending herself."
"She was defending the house," Saurin said flatly. He stood by the high window, a fresh shirt on, a glass of amber liquor untouched in his hand. "Will she survive?"
"If the fever doesn't take her in the next twenty-four hours, yes. She has remarkable constitution for someone so... delicate."
"Leave us. And Aris?" Saurin turned his cold, gray eyes onto the physician. "If a single word of what you saw in this room leaves your mouth, your family will discover how deep the harbor is."
The doctor paled, bowed, and hurried out, locking the door behind him.
Saurin walked over to the bed. Vesna looked small amidst the dark silk sheets. Without her oversized maid's apron and scuffed boots, she looked younger, fragile, yet there was a stubborn set to her jaw even in unconsciousness.
He sat in the armchair beside the bed, resting his chin on his steepled fingers.
Two hours later, her eyelids fluttered. She let out a soft groan, her small hand reaching out instinctively toward the side of the bed.
"Vuk..." she rasped softly.
From under the bed, a heavy black snout emerged, resting gently against her palm. Vesna's fingers curled into the dog's scarred fur, her breathing relaxing slightly.
"He's fine," Saurin's deep voice cut through the dim room. "You saved his life. And he hasn't left your side."
Vesna’s eyes snapped open. She tried to sit up instantly, a gasp of sharp pain tearing from her throat as her hands flew to her bandaged side.
"Don't move," Saurin ordered, stepping forward and placing a firm, warm hand on her shoulder, pressing her gently back into the pillows. "You have thirty stitches in your side."
She stared at him, terror flashing through her wide, dark eyes. "Lord... Lord Vosa. I... I apologize. The blood... I'll clean the sheets, I swear it, I'll pay for the—"
"Be quiet," he said, though his tone was devoid of anger. He picked up a glass of water from the nightstand and held it to her dry lips. "Drink."
She hesitated, then swallowed small sips, her eyes darting nervously around the luxurious master bedroom. "Why... why am I here? I was told... I was to be dismissed."
"You were," Saurin said, leaning back against the bedframe, watching her closely. "Until I found you bleeding on my floor, holding the evidence of a plot to slaughter my family."
Vesna went still. The water in her throat suddenly felt like lead. "I... I don't know what you mean. I only wanted to save the dog."
Saurin pulled the small paper scroll from his pocket and held it up between two fingers. "This was tucked inside the poison vial. It details the exact layout of my security for the wedding. A layout that only three people in this house possess."
He leaned in closer, his dark face inches from hers. "You are not clumsy, Vesna Tor. A clumsy girl doesn't know how to drain a poisoned vein in a feral hound without having her face torn off. A clumsy girl doesn't carry a surgical blade in the hem of her skirt. Who sent you?"
Vesna’s breath hitched. She pulled her hand away from his grip, clutching the bedsheets to her chest. "No one sent me," she whispered fiercely. "I am nobody."
"Lies," Saurin purred. "I ran your name through the Dovat Quarter registries an hour ago. There is no Vesna Tor. The real Vesna Tor died of consumption four years ago in a church asylum."
She closed her eyes, tears leaking through her dark lashes, leaving pale tracks against her pale skin. "If I tell you," she whispered, her voice trembling, "will you send me back? Will you let him die?"
"Him?" Saurin’s eyes narrowed. "Who?"
"My brother," she sobbed, a raw, broken sound that seemed to shatter her quiet demeanor. "Luka. He's ten. He has a growth in his chest. The surgeons in the northern province... they said they could cut it out, but it costs six hundred crown-marks. I had nothing. A man in the border city gave me papers and a recommendation for this house. He said... he said if I kept my head down and stayed for three months, he would pay the clinic."
Saurin felt a cold knot tighten in his stomach. "Who was the man?"
"I don't know his real name," she wept, her hands shaking uncontrollably. "He... he called himself the Weaver. He told me I only had to do maid's work. He said I would never be asked to hurt anyone. But yesterday... yesterday the cook handed me that bottle. He said it came from the head butler. From Casian."
Saurin froze.
The room seemed to drop ten degrees.
Casian.
The man who had served his father for twenty years. The man who managed his accounts, his schedule, his life. The man who had looked slightly unnerved when Saurin ordered the new staff cleared before the Drazza wedding.
"Casian told the cook to give you the wash?" Saurin asked, his voice deathly calm.
"Yes," Vesna whispered. "The cook thought it was just soap. But I worked in an apothecary when my father was alive. I know the scent of nightshade and silver-root. If the dog drank it, his stomach would rupture within hours. It looks like natural bloat. No one would have suspected poison."
Saurin stood up slowly. His hands were steady, but inside, a dark, terrible fire was kindling.
Casian hadn't just been planning a corporate merger through marriage. He had sold the Vosa family to the Drazzas. The wedding wasn't meant to join two empires—it was meant to be an execution. A grand trap where Saurin would be cut down in his own gallery, leaving the Drazzas to inherit the ports, with Casian pulling the strings from the shadows.
He looked down at Vesna. She was watching him with wide, terrified eyes, waiting for the executioner's blow.
"Your brother," Saurin said quietly. "Where is the clinic?"
"St. Jude's... in the high pass," she whispered.
Saurin walked over to his desk, picked up his private cipher-pad, and wrote a brief message. He sealed it with his ring and turned to the door.
"What... what are you going to do to me?" she asked, her voice small against the large room.
Saurin stopped at the door, looking back at her over his shoulder. Vuk had climbed up onto the bed, curling his massive, scarred body around her waist like a shield.
"The clinic in the pass will receive six thousand crown-marks within the hour," Saurin said smoothly. "The chief surgeon will perform the operation tomorrow morning."
May you like
Vesna gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Why? Why would you do that for a liar?"
"Because you saved my dog," Saurin said, his eyes darkening with a vicious, promising light. "And because you just gave me the blade I need to slaughter the men who killed my brother."
