Private Tales The Fall

[Raziel]

"The reward is simply watching the way you work," Raziel said.

He meant every word.

"Even when you decide to drag out every word and tease me."

His tail gave a small flick. Whether it was amusement or frustration it was difficult to see.

The girls fear was palpable. Raziel was a demon as far as she was concerned. Her home was a quaint town inhabited only by humans.

"I could always send back a piece of her he would recognise? Perhaps an eye?"

She struggled until Raziel laughed and waved the notion away.

"Still, her father has set some of guard out around the wall and we need him to realise he is not in a position of strength. We could start a skirmish on the hill to see if we can draw them out? Or maybe I should slip inside the town at night and set a fire burning. "

 

[Feyre]

Feyre watched the girl’s struggles with a measured detachment, as if she were no more than a wounded animal gnawing at its bindings. The girl’s fear did not move her—not in sympathy, at least. But it was useful. Fear always was.

She turned to Raziel, considering his suggestions with an air of idle amusement. "As much as I would love to send her father a reminder of what he stands to lose," she said, "I think we can be more… refined in our approach."

Her gaze flicked back down to the girl. "A fire in the night would certainly send a message," she said, her gaze distant for a moment, recalling the night she had met Raziel..

She swallowed and cleared her throat. "But fire is indiscriminate. It consumes all in its path, and I have no intention of ruling a pile of cinders."

She began to pace, fingers trailing lightly over the back of her chair. "A skirmish would test their defenses, yes. Draw them out, perhaps. But I want more than that." Her lips curled into a slow, deliberate smile. "I want doubt to take root. I want them to wonder if the mayor values their lives as much as his daughter’s."

Her pacing stopped. "We send a messenger at dawn," she decided. "An envoy bearing a letter. A simple request—his surrender, in exchange for her safe return. Let him stew on it. Let his men hear whispers of it. Let them ask themselves if they are truly willing to die for a man who might just hand them over to save his own blood."

She turned fully to Raziel, head tilting slightly. "And if he refuses?" she said, voice light, almost playful. "Then we move forward with your fire. But not indiscriminate. Not a wild blaze. A warning. A single building set alight in the dead of night. Let them wake to the scent of smoke and know that they have only themselves to blame."

Her fingers tapped against the chair’s wood. "Fear makes men predictable," she murmured. "And I want to see just how predictable the mayor can be."

She glanced down at the girl one last time. "In the meantime… ensure she remains in one piece." A smirk. "For now."