Chapter 9: The Hidden BdeAmber was settling near the hearth in her room, basking in the profound peace that had followed her raw confession. The scent of woodsmoke, metal, and Beldonna's presence felt like the first real security she’d ever known. Beldonna stood sentinel by the heavy oak door, her armor a quiet, comforting wall. The air felt thick and warm, insuted from the rest of the cold, political Keep. For the first time since she’d arrived in the Ani'cora, Amber didn’t feel the frantic, exhausting need to be alert. Beldonna's steady breathing and the faint, low hum of the armor's inner workings were a lulby, chasing away the ghosts of her past life, where every shadow held a potential threat. Here, she was a stray that had finally found her anchor; the knight’s presence was a shield more formidable than any stone, a silent promise that for this small moment, nothing could touch her.

  The silence was shattered not by a scream or a great commotion, but by a sound far more chilling: a single, soft scrape of metal against the outer stone, followed by a muffled, guttural curse in a nguage Amber didn't recognize, but knew meant only malice. An infiltrator.

  Beldonna moved instantly. She didn't draw the heavy, ceremonial broadsword resting on her hip—the symbol of the noble knight. Instead, her right hand vanished into the yers of her gauntlet. When it reappeared, it held a different weapon: a thin, wickedly sharp stiletto of obsidian hue. It was silent, designed for concealment and efficiency, not spectacle.

  "Stay here," Beldonna commanded, her voice a low, rough whisper that brooked no argument.

  A few weeks ago, Amber would have obeyed, paralyzed by fear. But now, driven by curiosity and a protective surge for the woman who now felt like her anchor, she couldn't. As Beldonna stepped smoothly into the dark corridor, Amber silently moved to the door and cracked it open just enough to see the narrow passage beyond.

  Illuminated by the distant, soft glow of the moonstone sconces, which cast long, dancing shadows that barely broke the pervasive gloom, a lean figure emerged from the deeper darkness. He was cd in silver, segmented armor. The way he moved—low to the ground, every step calcuted—spoke of professional malice. Amber's eyes, quickly adjusting to the dim light, caught the specific, severe cut of the man's tunic beneath the iron ptes, and the cruel, spiky metal filigree on his gloves, silver details glinting momentarily. She recognized the insignia instantly from all the times it had been burned into her skin by a hot brand in their attempts to “cleanse” her; a Kimoran. But how did they get here, in the Ani'cora? Amber thought she had left their silvered threats far behind in the mortal world. The fact that this enemy was so deep within the Keep's perimeter, not on the walls but right outside her private room, sent a jolt of pure, cold terror through her.

  Beldonna didn't hesitate. She didn't challenge or parry. She didn't fight like the heavily armored warrior Amber believed her to be. She flowed. The armor seemed to shed its weight, the heavy metal merely a deceptive shell, and she moved with the silent, terrible grace of a predator. She didn't bother with the footwork of a duel or the measured defense of a formal battle. Instead, she took three steps—a blur of contained violence—that closed the distance with terrifying speed. The Kimoran, surprised by the speed of her response, barely managed to bring his short, barbed bde up in a clumsy, panicked defensive posture. Beldonna paid the clumsy block no mind. She shifted her center of gravity, dipping under his raised arm, using the weight of her gauntlet to deflect the bde harmlessly before it could become a threat. The obsidian stiletto, a ghost of a bde, was already finding its mark. It didn't ssh or tear; it was driven forward, straight and true, sinking deep into the scout's unprotected carotid artery—the most efficient, most final point of vulnerability.

  There was no sound of cshing steel, only the hideous, wet slide of the stiletto being withdrawn. The life drained out of the Kimoran scout with an almost immediate cessation of movement. His weapon fell from his numb fingers and cttered briefly on the stone, followed instantly by his body dropping with a muffled, heavy thud. He was dead before Amber even registered the action was over.

  Beldonna stood over the body for a brief second, wiping the bde on the dead scout's tunic before seamlessly tucking it away, the stiletto vanishing into the gauntlet once more. It was only then that Amber realized she never once touched the fearsome looking broadsword at her hip. Her emerald eyes immediately fixed on Amber, who stood frozen with the door cracked open. “You’re safe now.”

  "Those silver assholes," Amber whispered, her throat dry, staring wide-eyed at the body just outside. "Here."

  Beldonna confirmed the identity with a sharp nod. "Kimoran scouts, looking for something in the Ani'cora, after our silver treasures. We get them occasionally." She didn't admonish Amber for disobeying, only offered a chillingly practical expnation for her methods. "I ended it as quickly as possible before he could alert any potential allies. I favor decisive action over drawn-out posturing."

  Amber closed the door, the image of the swift, ruthless kill searing itself into her mind. She accepted the efficiency expnation—it was logical, rational, and necessary to protect the Keep. But the visual contrast—the noble armor versus the killer's hidden bde—created a terrifying dissonance. Beldonna looked like a shining champion, but she fought like a ruthless predator.

  Shoving the thought of the wicked, obsidian bde aside in her mind. “Do we need to report this?” Amber questioned, going over to the body of the Kimoran to poke around at it. Her mind was full of so many other questions, but she shoved them down, too consumed by her burgeoning feelings and the comforting weight of Beldonna's protection.

  “We should, and that you’re back.” The knight then performed a feat of strength that seemed impossible for her frame, lifting the dead man easily by his armor’s shoulder piece and dragging the heavy weight into a dark, recessed alcove usually reserved for storing nces. A quick sweep of her foot obscured the trail of dark moisture. The efficiency was shocking, completely devoid of emotion or hesitation. They began walking down the stone corridor, the sconces throwing their shadows long and grotesque. Amber couldn't shake the image of the scout's gssy eyes, or the way Beldonna's armor seemed to hum with suppressed energy after the violent exertion.

  “How?” Amber finally asked, keeping her voice low. “How did he get so far inside? I thought the Keep was impenetrable. I thought you had hundreds of guards.”

  Beldonna’s hand, still gripping Amber’s, tightened slightly. “It is impenetrable, under normal circumstances.” She sighed, a deep, weary sound that echoed the profound exhaustion Amber had seen just before the attack. “But the circumstances are not normal. Aethelus, the High King, called away our standing army months ago, with it our Lord Marshall Josef. He is massing troops near the eastern borders for a show of strength against the Unseelie courts. That left our garrison severely depleted.”

  “Who’s Lord Josef?” Amber asked, trying to piece together the complex network of those in power.

  “The Dame’s Husband, and head of our standing armies.” BD further expined as they walked through the empty halls. “Without him and his calming, protective nature around she’s more anxious than unusual.”

  Amber looked up, her internal panic spiking. The Keep wasn't safe; it was a shell. “So the walls are… empty?”

  “Not empty. Merely understaffed, and by the less-experienced reserves,” Beldonna corrected, though her tone offered little comfort. “Which means the scouting parties, like that Kimoran, have grown bolder. Every night since the main company left, I’ve been running double duty—acting as the primary security force, managing the remaining garrison, fulfilling my knightly duties, and carrying out… other work for the Dame.”

  She paused, looking forward down the cold, endless corridor, a muscle jumping in her jaw. She didn’t eborate on the ‘other work,’ and Amber, dizzy with adrenaline and the weight of the new revetion, didn't press. She had seen the hidden bde—the brutal truth of what Beldonna’s work likely entailed. But the hand holding hers felt warm, strong, and fiercely protective.

  She’s tired. She’s doing all this for us, to keep this pce secure. She is breaking herself for the Dame, and I’m the only light she has. The thought was intoxicating, the ultimate justification. Amber took the simple, comfortable expnation—the sheer exhaustion and noble overwork—and pushed the deeper, darker questions about assassination and political machinations far into the recesses of her mind. She desperately wanted the knight to be a hero, not a killer, and her love was more than willing to edit the facts to fit the picture. She squeezed Beldonna’s hand in silent solidarity.

  They reached the grand double doors leading to the Dame's private receiving chamber. Beldonna stopped, took a deep, steadying breath, and turned to Amber. Her eyes held that familiar, fierce emerald glow, but beneath it was a shadow of strain.

  "She won't keep us long, little one. But whatever she asks... nod. Agree. Do not contradict her. She’s still in a mood."