Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 160 - Hundred And Sixty

Derek stood alone in the center of the room.

He looked at the dead girl on the floor. He looked at the weeping mother who was still cursing his name. He looked at the overturned tables.

He felt a cold, dark rage settle in his heart. It wasn’t the hot fire of battle. It was the freezing cold of absolute destruction.

He turned to Ian, who had just arrived. Ian looked horrified. He had seen Marissa being led away.

"Your Grace..." Ian started.

Derek raised a hand. Silence.

"Find out who wore that dress," Derek ordered. His voice was deathly quiet. It was a whisper that carried more threat than a scream. "Find out who was here. Find out who looked like her."

He looked at the door where Marissa had vanished.

"Tear this city apart if you have to," Derek said. "Check every dressmaker. Check every wig shop. Check every inn."

He turned his gaze back to Ian. His eyes were empty of humanity.

"And send word to the barracks," Derek said.

Ian’s eyes widened. "The barracks? The army?"

"No, Prepare the Elite Shadow," Derek commanded. "Put the elite units on standby. Tell them to wait for my signal, send the rest to find Lord Basil."

"Your Grace?" Ian asked, his voice trembling. "Are you planning a rebellion? If you march on the palace..."

Derek looked at outside, toward the direction of the Royal Palace where his wife was being taken.

"If they touch a hair on her head," Derek whispered, his voice a promise to the gods. "If they hurt her... I will not just rebel."

He clenched his fist.

"I will burn the palace to the ground," Derek said. "And I will kill anyone who stands in my way. Even the King."

He turned and walked out of the Golden Swan, his steps heavy, leaving a trail of fear in his wake.

~ ••••• ~

The private chambers of Lady Jane was thick

and heavy with the scent of spiced apples and expensive tobacco.

Jane lounged on a chaise lounge upholstered in crushed crimson velvet. She looked like a cat that had just eaten a very large, very satisfying canary. Her court dress, a stiff and formal thing, had been discarded on the floor. She wore only a sheer silk robe that slipped carelessly off her shoulders, revealing her pale, smooth skin. Her hair, usually pinned up in the complex, painful styles required by court etiquette, flowed freely down her back, a dark river against the red velvet.

She held the long, golden pipe of a hookah to her lips. She inhaled deeply, her eyes half-closed in pleasure. A moment later, she exhaled a thick, white cloud of smoke. It curled upward, dancing in the light of the many beeswax candles that illuminated the room.

She was waiting. And she was happy.

The news had already reached the palace. The Grand Duchess had been arrested. The scandal was spreading like wildfire. Marissa was finished.

Jane watched the smoke swirl in the corner of the room. The shadows there seemed deeper than they should be. They twisted and turned, acting like living things rather than simple absences of light.

The air in the room grew suddenly cold. The candle flames flickered and dipped, turning blue for a heartbeat.

Senna appeared.

She didn’t open a door. She didn’t climb through a window. She simply stepped out of the shadow in the corner, materializing from the darkness as if she were made of smoke herself.

Jane smiled. It was a delightful, wicked smile. She set the hookah pipe down on a small table.

"Ah," Jane purred. "The witch returns."

Senna took a step forward into the light.

She looked terrible.

Just an hour ago, wearing the magical mask, she had looked like the radiant and healthy. Now, in her own skin, she looked like a corpse that had been dug up. Her skin was a sickly, translucent gray. Her eyes were sunken deep into her skull, surrounded by dark, bruise-like circles. Her lips were cracked and dry. She was trembling. Her hands shook uncontrollably at her sides.

Senna tried to speak, but only a wheezing sound came out. She took another step, and her legs gave way. She fell to her knees on the expensive rug.

"Hhhck... hhhck..."

A violent, wet coughing fit seized her. Her entire body convulsed. It wasn’t a normal cough. It sounded as if her lungs were tearing apart inside her chest.

She cupped her hands over her mouth.

SPLAT.

A spray of blood hit her palms. It wasn’t the bright red of a cut finger. It was dark, almost black, thick and clotted. It dripped through her fingers and landed on the rug.

Jane raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. She didn’t look concerned. She didn’t rush to help. She looked at the blood on her rug with a mild expression of distaste.

"And what is wrong with you?" Jane asked, her voice cool and detached. "You are making a mess."

Senna wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, smearing the dark blood across her cheek. She gasped for air, each breath a rattling struggle.

The pain was excruciating. It felt as if her veins were filled with ice water. The forbidden art she had used—the art of Flesh masking—did not come cheap. To wear another’s face, to steal their voice and their presence, required a sacrifice of one’s own life force. For every hour she had spent as Marissa, the magic had eaten away at her own vitality.

"I used... forbidden art," Senna rasped. Her voice sounded like grinding stones. "To impersonate someone... to hold the mask for that long... the practice weakens me." 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

She clutched her chest, her fingers digging into her skin as if trying to rip the pain out.

"The magic," Senna whispered, squeezing her eyes shut as a fresh wave of agony washed over her. "It takes a payment. It eats the blood. It rots the spirit."

She looked up at Jane.

"I feel... I feel like I am hollow," Senna admitted, her voice trembling with the aftershocks of the spell. "Like the wind is blowing through my bones."

Jane took another puff from the hookah, watching Senna suffer with a detached interest.

"Is that so?" Jane mused. She blew a smoke ring. "Well. Magic always has a price, does it not? That is what the stories say."

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand.

"But look at the result," Jane said, her voice silky. "You have your Duke now. Marissa is in chains. She is disgraced. She is gone."

Jane smiled, a predatory expression.

"And I," Jane said, "I have my Prince. With Marissa out of the way, Liam will see that I am the only one who can help him. He will see that I am the only woman strong enough to stand by him."

She looked at the shivering, bleeding woman on the floor.

"You did a very good job, Senna," Jane praised her. "The girl’s death... the witnesses... the timing. It was a masterpiece of theater."

Senna managed a weak, bloody smile. She fed on the praise. It was the only thing keeping her upright.

"Have you initiated the second phase of the plan?" Senna asked.

Senna couldn’t talk. She just nodded.

"Don’t you worry," Jane whispered, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial level. "Your secret is safe with me. No one will ever know you are a magic wielder from the West. No one will know you are a witch. As long as you keep your mouth shut."

It was a reassurance, but it was also a threat. I know what you are. I own you.

Senna bowed her head, submitting. "Thank you, My Lady. Thank you for your protection."

Jane reached for a heavy leather pouch sitting on the table beside the hookah. It clinked with the heavy, dull sound of gold coins.

"Here," Jane said.

She tossed the pouch.

It flew through the air. Senna’s hands shot up, her reflexes still sharp despite the pain. She caught it.

The weight of the gold pulled her hands down. It was a fortune. It was more money than she had ever seen in one place.

Senna opened the pouch slightly. The gold glittered in the candlelight, a stark contrast to the dark blood on her hands.

Jane lay back on the chaise, closing her eyes. She was bored now. The transaction was complete.

"Use the money to get better," Jane said dismissively, waving a hand at the door. "Buy a tonic. Buy some rare herbs. Fix yourself."

She opened one eye and looked at Senna with disdain.

"You look like a corpse," Jane said coldly. "And a corpse is no use to a Duke. Derek likes pretty things. If you want him to look at you again, you need to hide that... damage."

Senna nodded. She clutched the pouch to her chest, staining the leather with her blood.

"I will," Senna whispered. "I will heal."

She knew a healer in the shadowy parts of the city. A man who dealt in blood magic. He could fix her. He could replenish the life force she had spent, but it would cost gold. Luckily, she now had plenty.

She struggled to her feet. Her legs shook violently. She felt dizzy, the room spinning around her. The backlash of the magic was hitting her hard now, a deep, bone-weary exhaustion that threatened to pull her into unconsciousness.

But she couldn’t collapse here. Jane would have her thrown out with the trash. Senna focused her will. She called on the last reserves of her energy. She stepped backward, moving toward the dark corner of the room.

"I’ll be on my way now, My Lady," Senna rasped.

She stepped into the shadows. The darkness seemed to reach out and grab her, wrapping around her like a cold blanket.

The air shimmered.

In a blink, she was gone.

The room was empty again, save for Lady Jane.

The only sign that Senna had been there was the metallic scent of blood mixing with the sweet tobacco smoke, and a few dark drops staining the expensive rug.

Jane watched the spot where Senna had vanished. She took another long drag from the hookah pipe.

She smiled into the smoke.

"Magic," Jane whispered to herself, chuckling softly. "Such a useful, dirty tool. I am glad I don’t have to touch it myself."

She closed her eyes, dreaming of the crown she would soon wear, while far away, in a cold, dark alley, Senna collapsed into the mud, coughing up the price of her ambition.