Azriel crouched low among the shadows, his wings tucked in tightly, his body barely a whisper against the stone walls of the Hidden Court’s palace. His mission was clear—gather information, find out what the princess was planning, and leave without a trace. His skills as the Night Court’s spymaster had always made him an expert at blending into the dark, unseen, unheard.
But this princess… she wasn’t like anyone he had spied on before.
He had heard the rumors, of course. The princess of the Hidden Court, known for her beauty, her cunning, and her ruthlessness. She was said to be a master manipulator, always several steps ahead of anyone who thought they could outsmart her. Azriel didn’t like being outmaneuvered, so he had prepared meticulously for this mission.
But something felt off tonight. The shadows seemed to whisper more than usual, the silence in the hallways too deep, too pregnant with tension. Azriel barely moved, keeping himself pressed against the cool stone, waiting for her to make her appearance.
The soft click of heels echoed in the distance. He froze. She was coming.
He could feel her before he saw her—an unmistakable presence, like the weight of a storm cloud just before it breaks. When she stepped into the room, it was as if the air itself had shifted. She moved with grace, the dark velvet of her gown flowing behind her, her eyes scanning the space with unnerving precision.
Azriel tensed, his fingers curling around the hilt of his blade, ready for any sign that she might be a threat. He hadn’t expected her to come this way. He was supposed to be invisible.
But as she walked toward him, the corner of her lips quirked into a knowing smile. “You’re a terrible spy, you know,” she said, her voice like honey, but with a sharp edge.
Azriel’s heart stilled, his hand tightening on his weapon, but he didn’t move. He didn’t need to—he was already trapped, caught in her gaze.
“How did you—?” he began, his voice low, though he could feel the pulse of surprise rushing through him. He had been so careful.