The heavy wooden door clicked shut behind Edmund; the sound was unnaturally loud in the silence of Lord Alaric’s private chambers. He turned the key once, twice, then leaned his weight against the wood for a moment, as though the simple act of locking it might keep the rest of the world out. The room smelled of old beeswax, dying embers, and the faint metallic bite of polished armor that hadn’t been worn in weeks.
Alaric sat on the edge of the wide bed, elbows on his knees, staring at nothing. The fire in the hearth had burned down to dull orange pulses, throwing long shadows across the tapestries. He hadn’t bothered to light the wall sconces. Darkness suited his mood right now.
Edmund cleared his throat, the way one does when approaching a wounded animal.
“My lord.”
Alaric didn’t look up. “You’re late.”
“I waited until the new maids were settled and the evening rounds began. No one saw me come here.” Edmund took three measured steps into the room, stopping just outside the carpet’s edge as though crossing an invisible line might cost him something. “My lord, the rumors are spreading faster than stable-yard gossip. They say Lord Darius is dead. So, it is true?”
Alaric exhaled through his nose; a tired sound came out. He finally lifted his head. In the ember-glow of firelight, his eyes looked almost black.
“Yes.”
Edmund’s shoulders sagged half an inch. He had expected the answer, yet hearing it still landed like a blow in his stomach.
“How did you know?” Alaric asked quietly. Not like an accusation, just curiosity from a man who no longer trusted surprises.
“The life-lights in the family crypt, sire.” Edmund’s voice stayed level, like a professional. He continued, “One of the two flames for the Denares brothers went out some nights ago. I told Valen immediately. He instantly got ready and rode to Edger County. I haven't heard from him since. I just figured the rest from the local rumors I heard.”
Alaric gave a dry, mirthless chuckle. “They say the peasants notice first when the loudest voice in the hall goes silent. It seems it is true.”
He rose slowly, the movement stiff. The heavy velvet coat he wore, a deep burgundy thing meant for receiving petitioners, hung awkwardly on him now, the shoulders misaligned. He gestured toward the standing mirror.
“Help me out of this damned thing. It feels like I’m wearing a coffin.”
Edmund moved at once. He crossed the carpet without hesitation, fingers deft on the silver clasps and hidden ties. As the outer layer peeled away, lamplight caught on something that hadn’t been there the last time he’d dressed his lord.
A thin band of matte black metal encircled Alaric’s neck. No clasp. No seam. Just an unbroken ring that sat flush against the skin, dark as obsidian and somehow colder than the room.
Edmund’s hands froze mid-motion.
Alaric watched the butler’s reflection in the mirror. Their eyes met.
“You see it, then.”
“Yes, my lord.” Edmund’s throat worked. “Who…?”
“The elf. Eon.”
The name dropped into the quiet room like a blade into water. Edmund actually took half a step back before he caught himself.
“He collared you?”
“He had collared both of us.” Alaric’s voice was flat, matter-of-fact. “Darius first. Me second. It seems the moment the Count was dead and the guards were down, he stopped pretending to be anyone’s servant. My guess is, he was the one who had killed the Count himself. Although I'm not sure of that yet.”
Edmund’s gaze darted to the door, then back to the collar. He also shared his experience just moments ago with Alaric. His voice came out thinner than he intended. “When he found the elves in the cells beneath the keep… I’ve never seen rage like that. He walked down there calm. But as soon as he saw the elves… its like he became a different person all of a sudden. The air tasted like lightning. I thought the stones would crack.”
“Heh, I can almost see it happening.” Alaric tugged the coat free off him at last and tossed it over the nearest chair. Underneath he wore only a plain linen shirt; the collar looked even more obscene against the pale fabric. “That’s the problem with him. One moment he’s playing the perfect slave, quiet, efficient, obedient. Next he’s deciding who lives and who becomes furniture. Unpredictable, right? That’s why this...” he touched the black collar with two fingers, “... this stays on me.”
Edmund swallowed. “My lord… the Alaric Denares I’ve served since boyhood would have torn a collar like that off with his bare hands. Or died trying.”
Alaric looked at him for a long moment. Then he sighed, a long, bone-deep sound.
“Maybe that man is dead too.”
Edmund said nothing. He simply waited for Alaric to say something.
Alaric walked to the window. Outside, the estate started to look kind of dark except for a few scattered torches along the walls. Wind rattled the leaded panes.
“I could fight it,” he said at last. “Break the enchantment, or maybe kill him in his sleep somehow, rally what’s left of the household guard. I’ve run those plans in my head every night since he put the collar on me. But every single one ends the same way.”
“With Elora’s blood.” Alaric turned, leaning his shoulder against the cold stone. “She’s not a child anymore, Edmund. She knows what’s happened. She’s seen what he can do. And yet…” He trailed off, jaw tightening. “She smiles when he’s near her.”
Edmund blinked slowly. “Smiles?!”
“Like she used to when she was six and I let her ride my shoulders through the rose garden. Like the world is beautiful again.” Alaric rubbed his face with one hand. “She told me that when she was just my little sister, she felt like a decoration. A doll to be dressed and paraded. Now she walks beside him like she belongs there. She says she feels freedom with Eon.”
The silence stretched in the room.
Edmund finally spoke, softer than before. “You’re staying collared… for her happiness?”
“I’m staying collared because if I break free and kill Eon, then she would be beyond sad, I think.” Alaric laughed a little to himself. “Huh, Look at me. The proud heir of House Denares, bargaining with an elf for his sister’s peace of mind. If Father could see this, he’d rise from the crypt just to slap me, don’t you think?!”
“Maybe, or maybe not. Who knows, even I can't say lord Ashura’s way of thinking,” Edmund murmured.
Another dry chuckle. “True.”
Edmund stepped closer, cautious, but no longer frozen. “My lord… whatever softness this elf has dragged out of you, the estate will not run on sentiment. The ledgers are piling up. The grain shipments are late. The border barons are sniffing for weakness. If you don’t take the reins again, collar or no collar, someone else will at this rate. And they won’t care about Lady Elora’s smile.”
Alaric studied the carpet for a long moment.
“I know.”
“Then…”
“I said I know.” The words came sharper than he intended. He softened them at once. “I’m not blind. I’m just… tired. And every time I think about ripping this thing off and killing that Elf, I see her face when she realizes Darius wasn’t coming back. The way her mouth opened and no sound came out. I can’t….” He stopped for a moment. “I can’t do that to her again.”
Edmund let the silence sit. Then, quietly said to Alaric: “She’s lucky to have you.”
Alaric snorted. “She’s lucky to have anyone left at all.”
He straightened, rolling his shoulders as though shaking off a weight he couldn’t actually remove.
“Tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll sit at my office tomorrow. I’ll sign whatever needs signing. So bring everything important to me.” He tapped the collar once. “And make sure no servant, guard, or knight gets any clever ideas about ‘rescuing’ me. Understood?”
Edmund inclined his head. “Perfectly, my lord.”
Alaric studied him. “You’re not going to argue?”
“Hah, I argued with your father for fifteen years. I’m tired of losing, my lord.” Edmund allowed himself the smallest of smiles. “Besides… I think I got the gist of what happens when someone crosses that Elf. I’d rather keep my tongue and my head attached.”
Alaric huffed; a sound that almost resembled a real laugh came out of his mouth.
“Smart man.”
He turned back to the window. Outside, the first gray promise of dawn was beginning to bleach the horizon.
“Go get some rest, Edmund. Tomorrow’s going to be long.”
Edmund bowed, an old habit, and moved to the door. He paused with his hand on the key.
“My lord?”
“Hm?”
“If you ever decide to risk it… to break the collar… Keep me informed beforehand, please.”
Alaric didn’t turn around.
“I know.”
The lock clicked open. Edmund slipped through and pulled the door gently shut behind him.