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The jeering laughter exploded in Jiang Fengyue’s ears.
Every scrap of feigned fragility, every performance of trust, he withdrew it all.
What remained was pure, heart-stopping ice.
It was obvious now.
An utterly detestable face.
Unless that majestic, supremely arrogant Dark Lord happened to be a master performer.
A contemptuous arrogance settled over Jiang Fengyue’s face.
He drew his wand, and in almost the same instant, he was at Yaxley’s side.
The tip of the spruce wand, glowing with a point of crimson light, pressed against Yaxley’s forehead.
“I won’t just make you hurt this time, dear Yaxley.” His voice was soft.
“You’ll be shredded into chunks of ruined meat by my hand.
Shall we try my newly learned Thousand Blades Unleashed?”
“No, you can’t.” The boy before him curled the corner of his mouth, his eyes gleaming with scarlet mockery.
“The Dark Lord gave me a task.
If I fail to complete it, the Malfoy family can wait to be buried right alongside me.”
Jiang Fengyue smiled.
“Entrusted to you?
A waste like you?
I would think the Dark Lord would entrust it to me instead.”
“But he doesn’t trust you.” Yaxley breathed the words out softly, striking straight at Jiang Fengyue’s heart like a venomous snake.
Jiang Fengyue’s expression didn’t flicker.
His calves tensed beneath his robes.
Yes, even he understood it.
Behind all the apparent praise, Voldemort did not trust him.
His wand didn’t move.
“What task did the Dark Lord give you?”
“You think I’ll tell you?” Yaxley sneered.
“You won’t tell me.
But your life will.” Jiang Fengyue narrowed his eyes.
“Tell me, and at worst I’ll kneel before the Dark Lord one more time.”
“You dare?!”
“I’ll say it again — I can.” The Slytherin platinum viper let out a hiss, venom poised and ready in its fangs.
“A nobody without even a Dark Mark, I’ll kill you outright.
I’ll explain I didn’t know you had a mission.
At worst, I accept punishment.
But you, poor Yaxley, will die by my hand.”
The color drained from Yaxley’s face.
He went pale, then livid, teeth grinding before he spoke.
“What do you want?”
The wand jabbed forward.
“Tell me.
What is the mission?”
“I can’t tell you!
If I speak, I die!” Yaxley roared.
“I can’t say it!”
“And if you don’t speak, you won’t die?” Jiang Fengyue laughed, looking down at the man with something almost like pity.
This is Hogwarts, the place where the Dark Lord came of age.
I don’t need to think twice.
It concerns his secrets.”
“If you learn the Dark Lord’s secrets, do you think you’ll survive, you fool?”
Scarlet ignited in the depths of Yaxley’s eyes.
“And you?
You want to know this secret.
Do you want to die?”
“I won’t die.” The platinum viper opened its mouth, corrosive venom about to spray.
“I can even guarantee you won’t, either.”
Yaxley went still.
“You can guarantee that?”
Jiang Fengyue gave a soft laugh, radiating absolute confidence, absolute solitude.
“I can swear an Unbreakable Vow, I will not die at the Dark Lord’s hand.
And neither will you.”
“I so swear.”
“How dare you…” Yaxley murmured.
Jiang Fengyue raised one eyebrow.
“Everything, or nothing.”
The pinned black-haired man stared up at Jiang Fengyue, at this person he had taken for a scratching little kitten, who turned out to be a thoroughly cunning viper.
A face that beautiful, and yet it held the cold gleam that flows across a blade fresh from the forge.
His gaze drifted to that pale, slender neck.
Like a swan raising its throat.
But those grey eyes held a fathomless edge, like an exquisitely ornate dagger, gorgeous enough to covet.
Hold it, and it’s yours.
But look away for a moment, and it’s already quietly arrived at your own throat.
He realized it then.
This person was much like himself.
More beautiful.
More fragile, more slight.
Not one ten-thousandth as powerful.
Equally arrogant.
Equally ambitious.
And yet completely unlike him, Jiang Fengyue was something closer to a ‘person,’ one who actually possessed emotions.
His very existence was stunning.
A violent surge of excitement shot up from the base of his spine to the crown of his skull.
Endless, glacial killing intent flooded the black-haired man’s chest.
Something deep in his soul told him with absolute certainty: this was a figure as lethal as he was beautiful.
He let out a low laugh and decided, before killing him, he would ask this toy one more question.
The first toy worth asking in decades.
“And if the Dark Lord finds out?”
Jiang Fengyue curled his mouth with abandon.
His eyes held a clear and visible, shuddering madness.
An aggressive, invasive beauty blazed through it all, unstoppable, like moonlight veiled behind a mist of blood.
Unmistakably dangerous.
Impossible to look away from.
“Only beneath the throne do I submit.
To the one who holds the truth of power, I offer my loyalty.”
“And if he wants to kill you?”
“A single move short.
I accept it willingly.”
Then the suppressed excitement tore through the silence, and there was nothing left to hold it back.
Jiang Fengyue lowered his lashes, looking down at the seated “Yaxley” and his uncharacteristic laughter.
A hand closed around his wand and moved it aside, not a request, not a negotiation.
Jiang Fengyue didn’t resist.
He knew.
The dust had settled.
The thin form in the chair grew.
Taller.
Broader.
A storm-force power swept through the air.
The Slytherin robes shifted and fitted themselves to a different frame.
Those eyes bled into soul-shattering crimson.
The Dark Lord descended, handsome as the abyss.
Jiang Fengyue watched it all in perfect stillness.
In the silence that followed, he dropped to one knee, raised his left hand to his heart in salute, and this time, he did not lower his head.
The Dark Lord regarded him.
The Black Lake stretched out behind him like a crown no one had to place there.
No splendid robes needed.
Those who drew near him felt the dizziness regardless.
Crimson met grey.
Neither looked away.
Voldemort gazed into those eyes, eyes that belonged to neither victor nor vanquished.
A satisfied exhale spilled from his throat.
Such a person.
Devoted to calculation.
Such a person.
Stopping at nothing.
A brilliant soul that probed through performance, and revealed itself in the probing.
“Where is your loyalty?” the Dark Lord asked.
“You will spend a lifetime bearing witness to it,” Jiang Fengyue said.
The Dark Lord laughed again, for this adorable little cat with its razor-sharp claws.
“My life is without end.
I shall fly beyond death.”
“Then my loyalty shall never fall.” Jiang Fengyue lifted his chin and smiled with the reckless ease of someone who had stopped counting the cost.
The Dark Lord’s narrow crimson eyes rested on the kneeling figure below, intent and unhurried, and somehow that gaze pushed Jiang Fengyue’s already-transcendent beauty to something beyond description.
Voldemort looked down at him with playful amusement and drew his wand.
“Regardless — I should give you a punishment.”
Jiang Fengyue’s chest tightened.
Then came the Dark Lord’s unhurried, drawn-out tone: “Cruci—”
Platinum hair scattered through the air.
Jiang Fengyue interrupted the curse with near-wanton boldness, in a posture that was equally humiliating and entirely unashamed.
He threw himself forward.
His body, clad in nothing but an outer robe, pressed brazenly between Voldemort’s parted legs.
His pale, slender thigh slid against the crisp fabric of Voldemort’s suit trousers.
The Dark Lord’s pupils contracted.
They went vertical, sharp as knife-edges.
“Please dominate me, my lord.”
➤ Next: Flower of Thorns