“I set the pieces perfectly. Reafel will inevitably be caught snooping around that hidden cave where Lord Miller apparently visited last night,” Albert said smoothly, swirling a glass of wine as he stood in the middle of Ivan’s guest chambers.
Ivan, who had just finished changing into his loose sleeping wear, pulled a heavy book from the shelf and settled comfortably onto the sofa. “Our source is actually pretty damn good at this information trading thing, huh...” he remarked without looking up.
Albert nodded, placing his empty wine glass down onto the wooden table. “Perhaps he is a bit too good? It’s clear as day to me now… that he was actively informing Lord Miller of our exact coordinates the very moment we arrived in the North.”
Ivan nodded with a low chuckle, turning a page. “He really played us on both ends there. Well, I suppose this level of double-dealing is only to be expected from someone who shamelessly trades information for a living.”
“Yeah. He explicitly asked us to send him our correspondence solely through local carrier routes rather than the main central network, claiming it was to avoid being tracked by the capital higher-ups or first prince,” Albert recalled, shaking his head. “But because we followed his advice, he was the only broker able to easily track exactly where we have been traveling. He just had to figure out which remote northern outpost each letter originated from.”
Albert turned toward the exit, preparing to return to his own quarters.
“Well, let him play his little games for now,” Ivan finished indifferently. “Given how useful his high-grade intelligence is to our main objectives, a bit of useless information leaking back to Lord Miller is entirely negligible.”
Albert offered a tight nod and left the room, closing the heavy wooden door quietly behind him.
The Viscountess’s Bedroom, Lord’s Castle
“Watermelon!” Francesca called out dynamically, pointing her finger across the sheets.
She sat opposite Miller on the bed, her silk nightgown loosely framing her shoulders. Miller let out a heavy, defeated sigh, slowly flipping over the card he was holding in his hand.
“No. It’s strawberries,” Miller replied, shaking his head.
Francesca threw her hands up in the air with dramatic disappointment, pouting playfully. “You know, Miller, you are remarkably bad at this game!”
“As if I am completely out of the running! I am literally only two points behind you!” Miller countered defensively. He glanced over at the ticking grandfather clock in the corner and softened his tone. “It’s getting late, Francesca. We really should get some sleep soon. I am sure you are thoroughly exhausted after verbally sparring with your brother the entire afternoon, not to mention everything we had to manage down at the chapel today.”
“I am a bit tired... but... just one more game? Please?” she made a forced cute face.
Miller shook his head with a stern, immovable no. Leaning forward, he easily scooped Francesca up into his arms. She feigned resistance, playfully fighting against his grip while chanting, “One more round! One more round!”
Miller simply chuckled, placing her down gently onto the soft mattress before completely shutting her up with a deep, passionate kiss for a few seconds.
…
“Do you still not want to get to bed?” Miller murmured, his lips parting from hers for a split second before she could say another word.
Francesca didn't answer verbally; she simply pulled his face back down for another deep, wet kiss, wrapping her arms securely around his neck to drag him down into her embrace on the sheets.
He broke the kiss only to trail his lips down her jaw, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of her neck. He felt her shudder, a violent tremor of anticipation that shook her entire frame. His hand slid upward, slipping beneath the hem of her gown to find the warm, damp silk of her thighs. He squeezed hard, and she let out a sharp, jagged breath that sounded like a prayer.
Francesca’s hands were frantic now, clawing at the buttons of his loose shirt until one popped off and skittered across the floor, ignored. She shoved the fabric off his shoulders, her palms sliding over his chest to feel the frantic thud of his heart. She leaned up, biting his lower lip with a hunger that bordered on aggression, her hips grinding rhythmically against his. She wasn't asking anymore; she was demanding it.
After a few minutes of those intense, breathless bed activities, the two lay quietly tangled together, warmly hugging each other in the dim light of the room. Francesca rested her cheek against his bare chest, tracing a finger over his collarbone. “So... how far along has the secret manufacturing of our cable cart system actually come? You were gone for the whole night yesterday.”
“A functional test line should be fully ready by the very end of this week,” Miller replied smoothly, wrapping his strong arms tighter around her waist to draw her closer. “Though, I distinctly felt like someone was covertly snooping around the perimeter of the lake last night. Because of that intuition, I went ahead and increased our guard security just in case.”
He paused, kissing the top of her silver head before continuing. “The informant I mentioned before sent over a detailed list of the specific regions Ivan visited right after he arrived in the North... It mostly details the exact coordinates where he went around lobbying the local lords. In fact, a brand-new follow-up report just arrived a few hours ago, right after we returned from the chapel sermon.”
“Oh? Have you got a chance to check the contents yet?” Francesca asked.
Miller leaned over, planted a soft kiss on her neck, and reached out toward the bedside table to grab the freshly delivered parchment. “I was planning to read through it right before we fell asleep.”
Francesca shifted her weight, turning around fully into his chest and squeezing in close to watch his face as he focused on the encrypted text. Miller's eyes rapidly scanned down the page, his expression transitioning from relaxed warmth to a cold, hard, military focus.
“Wait... this can't be right,” Miller muttered, his grip tightening on the edges of the paper until the parchment crinkled.
He finished reading the final line, his red eyes locking forward with absolute gravity. Turning down to look at Francesca, his voice dropped into a dark, serious register. “This... this might be bad for us.”