Chapter 3 THE HOUSE OF KNIVES

I once thought the Valtore estate was the coldest place I had ever lived. I was wrong.

The Dravik compound rose from the cliffside like a fortress carved from old ambition. It did not welcome visitors. It did not invite comfort. It only endured.

Steel gates lined the entrance, thick and unforgiving. Guard towers shadowed the stone walls, and every step inside felt watched. No windows faced the world. Only slits of black stone, narrow enough to suggest secrecy, deep enough to hide centuries of silence.

"You live here?" I asked, my voice soft but not uncertain.

Kaelen stepped out of the vehicle behind me. "It's not designed for hospitality."

I looked up at the dark walls. "That's obvious."

He did not respond. He walked beside me like this was normal. Like this place didn't swallow everything human.

Inside, the silence grew heavier. Every surface gleamed. Obsidian walls reflected light in sharp slices. The air felt staged, still, untouched by real life. I could not hear footsteps other than our own.

A voice echoed from above. "Lord Kaelen."

I lifted my eyes and saw a man descending the main staircase. He moved like someone trained to assess threats before speaking. Mid-thirties, lean, and tightly built. He carried tension like a second skin.

"Talon," Kaelen said.

His tone offered no warmth. No brotherhood. Just acknowledgment.

Talon reached the bottom step and looked at me like I was a riddle he already disliked solving. "So, this is the widow."

"I'm not a widow," I replied.

"You wear grief like it's fashionable," he said, staring at the blood still dried across my sleeve.

Kaelen moved forward, his tone sharper now. "Enough."

Talon's gaze didn't change. "We speak plainly in this house, Lady Dravik."

"I'm not using that name."

"Then what should we call you?" he asked. "The orphan bride?"

I stepped forward, not flinching. "Try it again, and I'll show you how orphans survive."

The silence stretched. Then Kaelen spoke again. "That's enough."

Talon smirked slightly, then turned. "You'll want to meet with Councilor Maive. The others are assembling."

"What others?" I asked.

Kaelen answered. "The Dravik inner circle."

"So, introductions to people already deciding whether I'm worth keeping alive. Lovely."

"You will need allies."

"I don't want allies."

"You don't have the luxury of that choice."

"Do I ever?"

He did not reply.

Talon walked off without another word. But before he disappeared, he muttered low enough for me to catch it.

"She won't last a week."

Kaelen said nothing. He didn't stop him. He just kept walking forward.

And I stood there, staring up at a house built from control, surrounded by people already prepared to cut me down.

The council room sat deeper in the compound. Colder. Larger. Darker.

Twelve chairs surrounded a black table that stretched farther than it needed to. Eleven people already waited, seated in silence. They didn't look at each other. They looked at me.

Kaelen stood at the head of the table. I stood at the foot.

He did not ask me to speak. He simply began. "This is Sereya Valtore."

"Dravik," corrected a woman to his left. Pale skin. Iron posture. Voice sharp like it had cut through many men already.

"By treaty," I said. "Not by choice."

"Names are earned in this house," she replied. "Not kept out of pride."

"I prefer to keep mine."

"I am Councilor Maive," she said. "I oversee security, supplies, and tradition. You will become very familiar with all three."

"I don't intend to stay long enough."

Soft laughter moved around the room. It did not sound kind.

A man across from Maive leaned forward. Older. Gloved hands. Silver hair swept back from his face. "Do you come in mourning or with purpose?"

"Excuse me?"

"Your father died only hours ago. And yet you walk into this chamber without tears. That suggests a strategy."

I raised my chin. "What you call cold, I call survival. That's something you understand here, yes?"

Massive interrupted. "Your presence disrupts our balance."

"How?"

"You bring eyes. You bring suspicion. You bring your father's enemies."

"And you think marrying into this house makes me their friend?"

"You do not carry peace. You carry risk."

"And you carry guns to weddings. Should I be the one apologizing?"

She stood slowly. Her eyes did not shift. "You forget where you are."

"No," I said. "I'm reminded with every breath."

Kaelen spoke now. "That's enough."

The room returned to stillness.

"She is here by treaty. She will be treated as such."

Massive narrowed her eyes but said nothing.

"She brings leverage," Kaelen continued.

"She brings chaos," Maive countered.

Kaelen turned toward me. "Serena."

I met his gaze. I knew what he was about to say.

"Tell them what your father told you."

I breathed once, then spoke.

"He reached out to my cousin before the wedding. Without telling me. He said someone close had turned. He believed there was a traitor inside House Valtore."

"Evidence?" asked the man in gloves.

"No direct proof yet. But there are whispers."

"And if it's not someone in your house?" Talon asked.

"Then I will find the one in yours."

That got their attention.

Kaelen nodded once. "The investigation begins immediately."

"You trust her to investigate us?" Massive asked.

"I trust her to stay alive. If she finds something useful, that is a benefit."

I took another step forward. "Someone murdered my father. Someone wanted to send a message. I was left alive for a reason. Whether you believe me or not, the threat is real. If you will not help me, do not stand in my way."

The silence that followed felt different.

Kaelen looked at me. Not with the challenge. Not with sympathy. Something else. Something like recognition.

Respect, perhaps.

Or calculation.

Maybe both.

Talon's voice reached me before I stepped out of the chamber. "I don't trust you."

I kept walking. "Then we're even."

He followed. I heard the sound of his boots matching mine.

"I've seen people like you," he said.

"You must be bored then."

"People who think grief makes them untouchable."

"I don't think anything protects me," I replied. "Not even this house."

"Good. Because you're not protected. Kaelen will guard you only as long as you're useful."

I stopped walking and turned to him. "If your father had died in front of you, would you be calm right now?"

"I would bury him. Then I would find the person who pulled the trigger."

"Then maybe you and I are more alike than you want to admit."

He looked at me long enough to say nothing.

"Kaelen won't keep you safe forever," he said at last.

"I'm not asking him to."

"When the knives turn inward, no one in this house will bleed for you."

I turned away and kept walking.

This time, he didn't follow.

I took the corridor to the right instead of the one assigned to my quarters. The stone beneath my shoes was too clean. The silence was too exact. I let instinct guide me deeper, around two turns, into a hallway that felt like it shouldn't be accessed without permission.

That was when I heard them.

Two voices. Not loud. But not cautious either.

"We move too soon, and she will disappear," said the first.

"She doesn't need to survive the year," said the second.

My pulse slowed. I stepped closer to the wall.

"She is just a symbol," the second voice continued. "Once her purpose ends, she disappears."

"She has eyes. She is not as broken as she should be."

"We wait. Let her investigate. Let her get close. Then we remove her."

"Kaelen?"

"He is weakening. He watches her too long. That won't last. He is still Dravik."

"And the cousin?"

"She plays the long game. I'll take care of that myself."

I backed away before the words concluded.

They didn't know I had heard.

But I had.

And that was enough.

Kaelen waited for me in the room I had been assigned. He stood near the window with his arms crossed. His jacket hung on the chair behind him. He looked up when I entered, but did not speak.

"Did you send for me?"

"I came before they could."

"They already tried."

"Maive?"

"And someone else. Not a name I recognized."

He nodded once. He looked unsurprised.

"You already knew they were planning something."

"Yes."

"Then why let me walk in there unguarded?"

"Because I needed to see how they would react."

"They want me dead."

"Some of them do."

"Are you one of them?"

He stepped closer. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because I believe in outcomes."

"And I'm what? A potential outcome?"

"You're a choice," he said.

I studied him. "Why not just let me die and blame it on politics?"

"Because you matter now."

"To what? This fragile treaty?"

"To me."

I waited for the lie behind it. But he said nothing more.

He walked to the door, paused, then looked back once.

"I won't let them hurt you."

Then he left.

And I was alone.

But not for long.