Chapter 400: Whispers Beneath Moonspire
Whispers Beneath Moonspire
Far from Blackthrone City—where Leon and Cassidy drowned themselves in unbroken passion, their bodies entwined like flame and shadow under the night—the world went on quietly. Hours away, at the pulsating core of the Capital, Moonspire’s great palace stood under the somber light of the rising moon.
The inner core of the palace shone with prosperity and age. The walls were inscribed with delicate gold designs, the ceilings topped with massive chandeliers of crystal and diamond that dripped warm light in liquid fire. The very air vibrated with the scent of exotic flowers, fresh every day in carved porcelain vases. Blue silk tapestries hung on the walls, inscribed with silver thread illustrating moons, stars, and dead kings.
Within one of the royal rooms, the luxury became personal. The walls were carpeted in luxurious royal blue mats, pleasant to walk barefoot on, their borders embroidered with white. A gigantic bed stood in the center of the room, its canopy embroidered with white silk, heavy drapes tied at the sides with golden cords. A gleaming dressing table sat in close proximity, mirrors edged with intricate ivy carvings. Light from the chandelier placed golden halos on the glass, doubling the radiance of jewels and perfumes strewn on it. Each breath smelled of lavender and sandalwood, sensual and intoxicating.
Two women were sitting in this room.
One lay gracefully on a velvet sofa, covered with a blue and silver gown that sparkled dimly whenever she shifted her position. Her silver-white hair fell in a cascade of moonlight down her shoulders, each strand of hair catching the light. Her eyes were blue skies, cool but keen, fringed with long lashes. Her lips, pink-rose colored, soft and faintly tinted, curled into composure. Her porcelain face shone, and her body—arousing, classically chiseled—spoke of power as well as of enticement. She was Sona, a royal beauty, born to dominate any room she entered.
Opposite her, another woman reclined with effortless ease. She was dressed in a gown of black midnight, its silk clinging to her voluptuous form, the cut-along neckline flirting shamelessly. She had hair in a short, sleek bob, raven-black, that framed a face possessed of the kind of treacherous beauty that sears itself into the memory. Her eyes, also black, had depth like dark water at night, both tranquil and full of storms. Her lips thicker, rosier, her jawline sharp, her nose straight. Her body leaned fuller than Sona’s—curved, inviting, undeniable. She was Natasha, a woman whose presence caused stir the minute she stepped into a room.
She took the tea slowly, her delicate fingers wrapped around the cup of porcelain. Steam curled upward, bearing the whisper of a floral scent.
Natasha let out a soft breath after her drink, speaking with ease but underlined with a questioning tone. "So tell me, sister... why call me at this hour?"
Her voice was warm and tinged with a hint of suspicion. She hadn’t looked forward to Sona’s call tonight. She had just come back from Vellore—her trip long, her heart fixed only on some rest after reuniting with her elder sister. But the instant she had stepped inside the palace, a maid curtsied and murmured that the Queen required her audience. Taken aback but not ready to decline, she had gone along. Now, sipping tea, she could not help but feel the quiet tension within.
Sona raised her own cup, slow, her poise queenly. She took a sip before responding, lowering her lashes for an instant. Her lips released a soft sigh.
"Leon contacted me."
The cup in Natasha’s hand stilled halfway to her lips. Her black eyes narrowed at once, light dancing within their depths. Her heart beat faster, but her face was serene. Only the slightest clamping of her fingers gave her away.
".Leon?" Her voice vibrated slightly against her control.
Sona inclined her head. "Yes. Just now."
The room went silent. Natasha’s thoughts reeled. So he reached out. across the distance. Again.
She placed her cup on the table with careful attention, fingers touching the saucer. She did not say a word for a moment. Her gaze moved to Sona’s, questioning. "Why tonight? He never does at night. Always in the morning, after he’s done his meditations. Why change now?"
Sona’s mouth curved weakly, a hint of bittersweetness. "That is what disturbed me as well." She placed her cup down, hands crossed in her lap, her stance rigid. "But he said it was crucial. He wanted us both to see him tomorrow night... in Blackthrone City."
Natasha’s heart constricted. "Tomorrow night?"
Sona’s eyes didn’t flinch. "Yes. He said... it is time to start his plan."
The words rang out, slow and heavy, like tolling bells in their ears.
Natasha smiled slowly, then laughed once, gently, and shook her head. "Finally. Our Lord moves at last." She sank back into the couch, lips curving into a wicked, smug smile. "Then at last, I see him again."
Her cheeks flushed softly, though she tried to maintain a level tone. The name of Leon awakened something deeper than pride permitted her to display openly.
Sona looked at her, and a slight smile pulled her mouth. "You missed him."
Natasha’s flush deepened. She gave her sister a look, half glare, half embarrassment. "And you didn’t? Don’t lie to me, Sona."
Sona’s mask fractured, her own lips bending gently, eyes casting downward. "I did. More than I would care to admit."
For a moment, the two women smiled at each other—two contrary flames attracted to the same blaze, neither willing to betray Leon, both of them bearing him in their hearts. Their relationship, odd as it was, had strengthened since the day Leon had departed the Capital. Sona confided in Natasha secrets that no one else would ever know. Natasha, on the other hand, bore no jealousy—though secretly, a part of her resented that Leon had decided to connect his mind to Sona and not her.
But resentment never amounted to betrayal. For Leon’s will was law, and her loyalty, unfaltering.
Natasha snapped the silence with a harder voice. "Still, something doesn’t sit right. He never calls like this. Not both of us. Not in this manner."
Sona leaned her head to one side, her silver hair sliding down her shoulder. "Yes. It made me uneasy as well. But if our Leon says tomorrow, then tomorrow we go. I trust he knows what he is doing.
Natasha’s black eyes narrowed in consideration. Then, slowly, a smile played on her lips once more. "Well then.".