The chamber felt quieter now that the maids were gone. Only the faint crackle from a lamp wick broke the silence, its glow spilling over bookshelves and catching the shimmer of polished wood.
Jace lay sprawled across the guest bed, still mumbling in broken threads of thought. "Mm—no, no, not the chickens, they'll… fly away—hah, look at them…" His words slurred together as he waved lazily at the ceiling, eyes half-lidded. He didn't even know what he was saying anymore, but he made sure it sounded off-kilter, just enough to sell the act.
Lila stood a few paces away, her posture still and unreadable. She had her arms folded lightly in front of her, lips pressed in a faint line as she studied him. Something about the way her gaze lingered didn't look triumphant, though. If she had expected him to simply topple like a puppet with its strings cut, she wasn't showing it. Instead, she looked as if she were weighing something.
When Jace rolled on his side and let his head flop against the pillow, he turned his mumbling toward her. "Pretty… pretty dress, Lady Lila. Too many… books in here, they're staring at me…" His eyes fluttered in mock daze.
Her response wasn't scolding or sharp. She simply gave him a smile and without a word, she turned and slipped toward the door.
He blinked slowly, watching her hand touch the latch. For a second, he almost forgot to keep up the act. Then, as the door closed behind her, the fake stupor slipped from his face.
Jace pushed himself upright, swung his legs off the bed, and padded quickly to the door. Pressing his ear against the wood, he caught the sound of her footsteps fading down the corridor. He let out a sharp breath, leaning his back against the frame.
"What the hell is she playing at?" he muttered under his breath, fingers tightening against the polished handle.
The whole thing sat wrong. If she wanted him weakened, why leave? If she wanted him dead, why bother with a sleep potion instead of a dagger to the ribs? His mind chased circles—schemes, plots, guesses—but none of them settled into something that made sense.
He rubbed his temple, frustration knotting between his brows. "Should've just left when I had the chance… could've made up an excuse about training, or fatigue…" He shook his head, bitterly amused at himself. "Now look at me, hiding behind a door like a thief in a palace."
The silence didn't last long.
Footsteps again—lighter this time, measured, coming back toward him. Jace's pulse jumped. He spun from the door and darted back to the bed, flopping onto the sheets with a heavy thud. His lips immediately began moving again, half-singing nonsense under his breath. "Wine's still spinning—hah, table's running away again, slow down, slow down…"
The latch clicked.
The door swung open, and Lila stepped inside.
Jace's half-lidded eyes cracked wider for the briefest heartbeat before narrowing again in feigned haze. She wasn't in her earlier gown anymore. Now she wore a nightdress of pale silk that caught the lamplight, its flow brushing against her frame as she shut the door behind her with quiet certainty.
Her steps toward the bed were unhurried, almost deliberate. Jace swallowed, letting his head loll to the side as if barely noticing her.
She reached the bedside and lowered herself slightly, her hand brushing against his. Her fingers were cool, soft, careful.
Jace let out a low mumble, shifting his gaze up toward her face. "Lady Lila… you're glowing, hah… glowing like… candles on the river…"
She didn't answer. She only gave him a small smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes.
Then she pressed a finger to his lips, silencing the stream of nonsense. The touch was firm but gentle.
His voice cut off at once.
With her other hand, she took his free arm, bringing both of his hands together as she began whispering something under her breath. An incantation, soft and steady, the syllables curling like smoke through the room.
Jace's brows twitched slightly. Should he be feeling something? The words carried weight, yes, but no heat, no pressure, no sensation in his limbs. Nothing but the steady rhythm of her voice filling the quiet.
When she finished, she released his hands slowly, her fingers trailing as if reluctant to let go.
Instead of pulling back, she shifted closer, tracing her hand down the line of his chest, fingertips grazing the fabric over taut muscle until they rested at the edge of his waistband.
Jace's breath caught despite himself. He hadn't expected this turn.
Her head bent lower. The faint scent of her perfume—sweet, with a note of spice—brushed against him as her lips touched his neck. A soft, deliberate kiss.
His eyes widened a fraction. Whatever game she was playing, he suddenly couldn't tell if he was two steps ahead… or already cornered.
Dumbfounded, he lay there, not understanding at all what was going on anymore.
She lingered at his neck for a heartbeat longer before pulling back, her lips leaving a faint warmth against his skin. Jace's breath hitched, his mind a blur of questions that only tangled tighter as Lila's gaze met his.
Without a word, she straightened slowly, her hand gliding upward before settling against his chest. Her fingers traced along the first button of his shirt, pausing as though savoring the hesitation. Then, with delicate precision, she slipped it free.
The faint click of the button echoed louder than it should have in the quiet room. She moved to the next, her eyes never leaving his, undoing them one by one with patient care, as if she were unraveling more than just fabric.
Jace forced himself to stay limp, to keep the act alive, even as his pulse raced beneath her fingertips.