Chapter 63: Chapter 63: silly idea
Skye didn’t answer right away. She simply walked over and sat on the edge of Amelia’s bed, fingers loosely clasped in her lap. After a moment she looked up. "Do you have feelings for them?"
Amelia blinked, caught off guard. "No. Why would you even ask that?"
"No reason." Skye’s voice was quiet. "Just... don’t develop any. It wouldn’t end well."
"Never in hell," Amelia said flatly. "I’d rather walk barefoot through a field of broken glass than get emotionally involved with those three."
A small, humorless smile touched Skye’s mouth. "Good. Men are selfish. They only ever think about themselves."
Amelia sat down on the opposite side of the bed, shoulders relaxing a bit. "I already had my fair share of love. I’m not stupid enough to go through that kind of damage twice."
Skye studied her for a second. "What was the old relationship like? You don’t have to answer if it still hurts. Getting over someone you loved isn’t easy."
"I’ve gotten over it."
Skye didn’t fully believe her.
"people often said that when they were trying to convince themselves"
"I’m serious. I can’t still be in love with someone who planned my death. The pain is still there, yes. Everything I built, everything I gave... it all turned out to be a waste. But what’s left isn’t love. It’s just the leftover hurt of realizing how much time I threw away on him."
Silence settled for a few breaths. Then Amelia glanced at her. "Do you have a mate?"
Skye’s fingers tightened slightly against each other. The lie came easily. "Yeah. He’s just... not around right now."
Amelia’s expression softened with genuine curiosity. "What’s it like? Having someone who actually loves you back?"
The irony was almost enough to make Skye laugh. Instead she let out a short, quiet scoff and looked away. "It’s lovely," she said. "Something you’ll never get to experience."
Amelia let out a small, wounded breath. "Ouch. Way to come for me like that."
Skye kept her gaze fixed on the far wall. Guilt sat heavy under her ribs.
This isn’t me. I don’t like being this kind of person.
But the alternative was worse. If she refused Rue, if she failed the small task that had already been completed, Rue’s affection would disappear.
And losing that—losing her—felt more terrifying than any betrayal of a girl she barely knew. She only hoped the object she had hidden in Amelia’s room wouldn’t turn out to be too fatal.
Amelia studied her for a moment longer, then spoke carefully. "Can I ask you something?"
Skye glanced over. "What?"
"Why are you working as my head servant? It doesn’t make sense. You clearly don’t like me, you don’t like the job, and you don’t look like someone who needs the wages."
Skye’s expression shuttered. "Personal reasons."
"...Alright."
Amelia had nothing else to say. The silence that followed sat awkwardly between them until Skye exhaled, the sound edged with a bit of guilt. "Do you want to see what I actually do? The work I am doing before I was assigned to you."
Amelia nodded.
Skye stood. "Then let’s go."
They left the room and descended to the ground floor. After reaching the basement floors, Skye spoke. "You still remember the place they kept you when you first arrived?"
A cold ripple moved down Amelia’s spine. "How could I forget? Please tell me that isn’t where we’re going. Is your real work in interrogation? Punishment?"
"No." She replied. "But it’s something adjacent."
They entered a hallway Amelia had never seen before. The atmosphere shifted completely. The space opened into a wide, brightly lit modern engineering workshop. Long workbenches lined the walls.
Men in practical clothes moved between stations—some repairing intricate components, others assembling new pieces, a few writing dense formulas across large whiteboards.
Skye stopped just inside the threshold and gestured around them. "This is where the weapons are designed. One of the brothers’ more effective businesses." She glanced at Amelia."I’m an engineer. One of the better ones when it comes to high-grade, high-impact weaponry."
Amelia stared at the workshop, then at Skye, genuine surprise written across her face. She never would have guessed
"This is... amazing."
Skye gave a short, practical shrug.
"We design every category. Manufacture in bulk. Sell to whoever pays. Sometimes those same buyers later try to turn the weapons against us—which is stupid—but we don’t particularly care. They already paid. Business is business."
She guided Amelia toward another worktable, then seemed to think better of it and stopped.
"That’s enough. We’re leaving. I don’t need to give you ideas."
Before Amelia could protest, Skye placed a firm hand between her shoulder blades and steered her back toward the exit.
"I don’t have any silly ideas," Amelia said as they walked. "Even if I did, I wouldn’t know what to do with them. I’ve never even touched a real weapon."
Skye shot her a sideways look that made it clear she didn’t fully believe the claim.
"Come on. We still need to prepare the dress you’re wearing tomorrow."
Amelia noticed the slight drop in Skye’s mood and decided not to push. She simply nodded and followed.
**
In the Blacksmith Territory, the council chamber was tense.
Dylan sat at the head of the long table while the territory’s elders and senior subjects argued in rising voices.
"The crime rates keep climbing," one elder said, jabbing a finger against the wood. "We’re supposed to have superior weapons. Why aren’t we using them to secure our own borders before someone else starts a war we can’t finish instead?"
Another man leaned forward.
"The only reason the Ellington brothers haven’t claimed this territory outright is the business arrangement we had with them. We’re no longer holding up our end. How long do any of you think that protection will last?"
A third voice cut in. "And where are your parents, Alpha? They should have returned from their ’vacation’ weeks ago. Their absence isn’t helping stability."
Dylan’s fist came down on the table hard enough to silence the room.
"Enough."
The remaining murmurs died.
"We don’t need the Ellington brothers’ cooperation," he said coldly. "There is already a plan in motion to remove them permanently. The last attempt failed for unforeseen reasons. This time they will not be lucky."
One of the subjects frowned. "Why are you so certain?"
Dylan gave a short signal. A man stepped forward and placed an opened letter in the center of the table. The seal was unmistakable.
Dylan’s mouth curved into something that was not quite a smile.
"Because the brothers are coming here themselves. Tomorrow. I suggest we prepare a proper welcome."
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