The tension in Valen's room was palpable as he paced anxiously, waiting for the Blood Angel. Arya leaned against the wall, arms crossed, trying to suppress a smirk. Valen's nerves were almost endearing; he was convinced that the Blood Angel would pull some grand trick on them.

"Honestly, Valen," she teased, unable to hold back. "You're acting like a child afraid of the dark. How could a woman be that scary?"

He shot her a glare, but it was laced with frustration and a hint of amusement. "You don't understand! She's not just any woman. She's the Blood Angel!"

Arya chuckled quietly to herself, pleased that her antics had gotten under his skin so thoroughly. It felt good to see him so riled up, though she also hoped Mila could keep up the act.

When Mila finally arrived, Arya's heart raced. Dressed in the Blood Angel's signature garb, Mila was shorter and had brown eyes—details that might give her away if Valen noticed. But as Mila stepped into the dim light of the room, Arya held her breath, praying she could pull it off.

"Valen," Mila intoned, her voice low and commanding, trying to mimic the aura of the Blood Angel. "You will allow me to keep Arya as insurance for our partnership. Do you agree?"

Arya watched closely, searching for signs of hesitation, but Valen seemed oblivious. "Of course," he replied, but Arya could sense the tension in his posture.

Despite Mila's efforts, Arya couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't quite capturing the psychotic edge that would truly terrify Valen. She tried to suppress her disappointment as Mila continued, demanding to know if Valen would abide by her terms.

"Your presence is... different," Arya muttered under her breath, but it was more for herself than for Mila.

Valen nodded, clearly still tense but seemingly convinced. "Fine," he said reluctantly. "I'll agree."

Once Mila finished her demands and left the room, Valen turned to Arya, his expression a mix of disbelief and frustration. "That wasn't the Blood Angel," he insisted, running a hand through his hair. "It couldn't have been."

Arya feigned mock surprise, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? You think she sent someone else because she was busy?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, a hint of suspicion creeping in. "You're joking, right? She wouldn't trust anyone else to do this."

"Well," Arya replied, her voice calm and teasing, "maybe she just has other things to attend to. You know how it is with a busy assassin."

Valen didn't look convinced. "You're not being serious. That wasn't her. I just know it."

"Then you'll have to trust my instincts," Arya said, dismissing his concern with a wave of her hand. "I have to say, though, she really needs to work on her intimidation factor."

Valen shot her an incredulous look. "You're unbelievable."

As they settled into the night, Arya felt a mix of triumph and unease. She had danced dangerously close to exposing herself, yet she had also maneuvered a way to maintain her cover. She just hoped Mila could keep this up, or they might all end up in more danger than she anticipated. If Valen discovered the truth, everything would unravel, and she couldn't afford that. Not now. Not when everything was so delicately balanced.

~

The morning sun filtered through the drapes in Valen's room, casting long shadows that felt ominous in light of the news that had swept through the town like wildfire. Arya listened intently as whispers filled the halls, recounting the gruesome details of the Blood Angel's latest act—a ruthless murder and an arson that had left the bookshop owner's wife dead, her blood used to scrawl a chilling message. The Queen's wrath echoed in the court, a tension that made even the bravest nobles shrink back.

Marissa remained missing, and now the very foundation of the Imperial family felt threatened. Arya could see the cracks forming in Valen's resolve as he processed the chaos around him, but she had her own agenda to pursue.

"I'll investigate," she offered, her tone steady as she attempted to mask the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. She needed this opportunity to gather information on Marissa's whereabouts.

As the morning progressed, Arya slipped away unnoticed, driven by a singular focus: she needed to find the bookshop owner. His fear and desperation would make him more pliable; he'd likely spill any information she needed.

When she arrived at his modest home, the urgency within her ignited like a fire. Without hesitation, she kicked the door in, the wood splintering under her force. The man scrambled from his chair, eyes wide with terror as he recognized the figure before him.

"Please! I-I didn't do anything!" he stammered, backing away until he hit the wall.

Arya closed the distance swiftly, slamming the door shut behind her and relishing the power she wielded. "You've made a mistake, working with those who threaten me. I warned you," she snarled, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him to the ground.

His fear was palpable, and Arya reveled in it. "I want answers," she hissed, leaning in closer. "I want everything. Where is Marissa?"

"I... I don't know where she is!" he gasped, desperation lacing his voice.

"Then why are you still breathing?" Arya's voice dropped to a low growl. She could feel the psychotic edge creeping into her demeanor, the darker side of her emerging as she stared into his terrified eyes. "You will tell me what you know."

"Okay! Okay!" he blurted out, trembling. "I heard she was taken... not far from the city. Halfway between here and—"

"Between here and what?!" Arya barked, grabbing him by the throat and pulling him close, baring her teeth in a wicked smile. The thrill of intimidation coursed through her veins. She was the Blood Angel, and she would not be made a fool.

"South! South to a town called Elderwood!" he squeaked, barely able to speak.

"Is that everything?" she pressed, her tone darkening as she watched his eyes widen further.

"Yes! Yes! Please!" he cried, his voice cracking. "I swear, that's all I know!"

Arya's lips curled into a sinister grin. "Good. Because if you lie to me again, I won't just leave you without a wife." With a swift motion, she punched him hard in the gut, knocking the breath out of him. "I'll make sure you regret crossing me."

She leaned back, letting him gasp for air, savoring the moment. He was broken, but that wouldn't matter if he had useful information. "Now tell me everything else," she ordered, her voice a deadly whisper. "What do you know about the organization behind this?"

As he began to divulge his knowledge, Arya's mind raced with possibilities. This was the key to unraveling the threat against the Imperial family, but more importantly, it could lead her directly to Marissa. And as long as she wore the mask of the Blood Angel, no one would suspect her true intentions. The power surged through her, driving her onward into the darkness.

~

Valen stood amidst the bustling crowd at the tournament field, the vibrant colors of flags and the excited chatter of spectators swirling around him. Yet, his attention was caught by a figure standing a few feet away—Arya, or rather, the woman he thought was Arya. Her conversation with Mila, the leatherworker, was animated, but what truly drew his focus were her eyes.

Those golden irises glimmered in the sunlight, reminiscent of coins shining with a light of their own. But it wasn't just their hue; there was an intensity to her gaze that sent a shiver down his spine. As he scrutinized her further, he felt a knot of unease tightening in his stomach. They weren't just golden; they were the same piercing golden eyes he had encountered just nights before—the ones that belonged to the Blood Angel.

He shook his head, attempting to dismiss the thought as paranoia. It had to be a coincidence, he reasoned, trying to quell the rising tide of suspicion within him. Arya was just Arya, the steadfast operative he had come to rely on, not the dangerous assassin cloaked in mystery.

But as he watched her walk away, he couldn't help but notice her confidence, the way she held her head high, the subtle power in her stride. It was unnervingly similar to the aura that surrounded the Blood Angel, a presence that commanded attention and demanded respect. Valen's heart raced as a troubling thought wormed its way into his mind: could Arya truly be the Blood Angel?

He resolved to keep his suspicions to himself for now. It was too dangerous to voice what he was beginning to suspect, and if he was wrong, it could jeopardize everything they had worked for. He turned and walked back toward the Imperial Box, the echoes of the tournament fading into the background. But the image of Arya, with her striking eyes and confident demeanor, lingered in his thoughts like a shadow he couldn't shake off.

Something felt off, and he knew he had to be cautious. The lines between ally and enemy were becoming increasingly blurred, and Valen couldn't afford to let his guard down. As the cheers of the crowd rang in his ears, he mentally prepared himself for whatever lay ahead, knowing he would need to uncover the truth behind Arya and the Blood Angel before it was too late.

~

Arya slipped into the Imperial box, her heart racing with a mixture of determination and frustration. As she settled beside Valen, she leaned in close, her voice low and urgent. "We need to talk."

He turned to her, his expression guarded. "Are you finally ready to tell me who you really are?"

The question ignited a fire within her. Arya snarled, her glare piercing. "You really think you can play this game with me? You put your nose into my business when you followed me to the bookstore, so don't pretend you can back out now. I'm an ally, Valen. If I wanted you hurt, I had plenty of opportunities to do it."

His eyes narrowed, disbelief flickering across his features. "That night? It never happened," he snapped, voice low but sharp.

Arya felt a surge of anger boil beneath her skin. "I don't give a damn what you want to believe! I saved your ass!"

"That doesn't change the fact that I don't trust you," he shot back, frustration etched on his face.

She leaned closer, her voice a threatening whisper. "You need to stop fucking with me, Valen. I'm giving you one last chance to figure out what side you're really on."

He sighed heavily, turning his gaze away from her. "I have things to do."

Arya's temper flared, and she cursed under her breath. "Get fucked, then! When you finally decide to care about getting your sister back, I'll be in my room. But I was wrong to think you might actually be better than your father. You're no different."

With those biting words, she stood and walked away, a strange pang of rejection twisting in her gut. His refusal to acknowledge her struggles and the lengths she had gone to protect him stung deeper than she had anticipated. She shook her head, forcing herself to focus. She couldn't let his doubts distract her from her mission.

As she navigated through the throngs of people, the weight of her feelings simmered just beneath the surface. But Arya knew she had to push through, to bury her emotions beneath the icy mask she wore so well. The chaos of the tournament faded into the background as she steeled herself for the challenges ahead, determined to find Marissa and unravel the web of deceit threatening to ensnare them all