Later that night, after dinner, Mervil sat alone in his dimly lit office, a glass of aged, spiced royal spirit resting in his hand.
He had reached for something stronger than wine.
The spirit settled into the glass, dark amber, carrying the faint warmth of spice and wood.
He didn’t drink immediately.
He simply watched it—as though an answer might rise with the vapour.
Something tapped against the window.
A small stone wrapped in brown paper fell onto the floor.
Mervil didn’t move.
He merely shifted his gaze toward it, calm and knowing.
A faint grin touched his lips.
He already knew the sender.
He finished the drink in one smooth motion, then unfolded the note.
My lord,
Meet me at our usual place.
At midnight.
— Your cat
A flicker of flame ignited at his fingertips, reducing the paper to ash.
There was still time.
He poured another glass.
At midnight, she stood beneath a tree, leaning lightly against its trunk as she watched the fading crescent moon.
The night was still.
A presence approached.
Arms wrapped around her waist from behind.
She didn’t flinch.
Mervil moved closer, resting his head against her shoulder, his lips brushing her neck.
“Looks like someone’s mind is fading along with that crescent moon,” she murmured, her tone teasing.
The grip around her waist tightened—firm, deliberate.
“Careful,” Mervil whispered.
“You’re getting comfortable.”
Before the moment could settle, he turned her toward the tree.
Her face came close to the bark.
His hand rose, fingers closing around her neck—not choking, but holding.
Asserting.
His other hand moved with equal certainty, pulling her closer until no space remained between them.
There was force.
But not a fraction beyond what he intended.
His lips traced along her neck—slow at first, then sharper.
A bite followed.
Not careless.
Measured.
She felt it.
Her fingers pressed against the bark behind her, nails grazing the rough surface as her breath hitched.
A few tears slipped free.
But she didn’t resist.
Instead— she smiled.
A soft, knowing sound escaped her.
“Someone feels challenged…”
That pause— that response— shifted something.
He turned her fully toward him, closing the distance again.
Deep.
Deliberate.
Lingering.
Different.
Not merely dominance.
Indulgence.
Intensity.
She felt the difference immediately.
Her hands rose, resting against him—not to stop him, not to submit, but to meet him there.
When the kiss ended, their foreheads nearly touched.
His fingers moved gently along her cheek before brushing across her lips.
“My lord…” she murmured, her voice quieter now, her gaze steady.
“What’s bothering you?”
For a moment, he said nothing.
His forehead rested briefly against hers.
“Report.”
The shift was immediate.
She understood.
“Keep an eye on that Shakta girl—Yani. The Black Sage cult is tracking her.”
“Already in motion,” Mervil replied, his tone steady again.
“Reason?”
“Still tracing that.”
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“You came with half an answer.”
“I had to,” she replied without hesitation.
“Civilian risk.”
A pause.
He nodded once.
“Also…” Her fingers absentmindedly brushed through his hair.
“I picked up trails of two Chitkins. Same network—the one smuggling the girls.”
A faint smile formed on Mervil’s lips.
“Let them move,” he said.
“We take them when they think they’re safe.”
She mirrored his smile.
“Already planned. Soon, I’ll bring them to you.”
His hand settled at her waist again—firm, claiming, but measured.
“For now…” he whispered, “focus on your task.”
At dawn, inside the wooden hut, she tied her hair into a bun.
Mervil sat bare-chested against the wall, resting back in quiet composure—completely different from the intensity of the night before.
“What are your New Year plans?” he asked casually.
She glanced over her shoulder.
“Probably spend time with my girls.”
He rose and handed her a gold necklace.
“Your reward.”
She accepted it with a small nod.
A brief kiss followed—simple, familiar.
wore her white red mask
Then she left.
Mervil lay back down and closed his eyes.
For a moment— he rested. New chapters come out on g.com first.
Later, at the Shakta Haveli—
Mervil sat comfortably in Lady Shakuntala’s office, enjoying milk sweets as though nothing had happened.
“So,” she said as she entered, “my son finally visits his mother—for sweets, of course.”
“Of course,” Mervil replied, finishing another piece.
“And I’m glad I did.”
He licked a trace of syrup from his fingers before reaching for another.
“Pack some for that rock as well.”
Lady Shakuntala laughed.
“Is that what you call Chief Sendrav? You two truly are brothers from different mothers.”
Mervil tilted his head slightly.
Then he handed her the scroll.
“Read.”
She took it and went through the contents carefully—the blood-divination results concerning the late Queen Amaranda’s maid.
Her expression gradually darkened.
“It makes sense…” she murmured.
“But it’s difficult to accept.”
“So,” Mervil said calmly, “cousin mother hadn’t opened her outer gates.”
She nodded.
“Knowledge of them is restricted. Only those who have opened the outer gates can perceive them. And that takes years—unlike inner-gate activation.”
“I’m aware.” Mervil leaned back slightly.
“And unfortunately, knowing them means being known by them.”
His expression hardened.
“They are beyond our kind.”
Lady Shakuntala exhaled slowly.
“Yes. That’s the rule.”
Silence settled between them.
“But why her?” she wondered.
“That,” Mervil said, “is what we find out.”
She studied him carefully.
“Among us, only a handful have opened the outer gates. Myself, Akansh, Sendrav, the Queen…”
Her gaze shifted toward him.
“And you.”
A faint smile appeared.
“An anomaly.”
Mervil tilted his head, amused.
“I should ask the Queen to create a new rank for anomalies like me. Fourth rank doesn’t seem appropriate.”
A spark lit in his eyes.
“Only a mother like you would think so generously,” he added lightly.
“Others just fear me—for no reason.”
She chuckled.
“I wouldn’t call it unreasonable. Everyone values their life.”
Mervil smirked.
“There is only one piece that doesn’t fear me.”
She raised a brow.
“And that is?”
He met her gaze.
“Myself.”
She smiled.
“Let’s see what the future decides.”