Chapter 151- Caged in the Phoenix's Den
Adrian
I had been packed and ready before the sun crested the distant hills. My bags, meticulously arranged and sealed, sat near the door like loyal soldiers awaiting command. The morning air carried the earthy scent of the tribe’s grounds, mingled with the wood smoke of breakfast fires and the distant thrum of morning rituals. Yet beneath it all, my mind buzzed with one overwhelming thought: *Today, I leave this place behind.*
I had endured Lexy’s hospitality long enough. The alliance celebrations were over, and my role—my presence—was no longer necessary. My men were due to arrive at sunrise to escort me back to my territory. Back to my plans. Back to the carefully woven web I’d been building long before this alliance was ever proposed.
But the sun kept rising.
And no one came.
By mid-morning, irritation flared beneath my skin. I paced the room with an edge to my steps, my boots striking the polished floor harder than needed. *Where the hell are they?* I thought, crossing to the window for the fifth time in an hour. The dirt road that curved toward the gates was empty compared to this morning with everyone leaving.
Something was wrong.
I reached for the phone I used to communicate with my lieutenants—silent.
I tried again. And again. Nothing.
I clenched my jaw, fury clawing at my composure. “No,” I muttered. “No way all three of them go dark. Not unless…”
Unless Lexy had done something.
My eyes narrowed. I replayed the events of the last twenty-four hours. The quiet looks. The council elders who kept circling conversations with me but said nothing of substance. And Lexy’s eyes—calm, unyielding, unreadable.
She knew.
She *knew* about Tarria. Or at least suspected.
My fingers twitched at the thought, instinct screaming for retaliation. But there was nothing to move against—no open act of hostility, no confrontation. Just silence. Delays. A tightening net.
I stormed down to the meal hall around noon, demanding food and answers. The servers—warriors dressed as cooks, no doubt—kept their faces blank as they brought me a plate. I barely tasted the food, but I forced it down anyway, needing energy for whatever the day would bring.
But within an hour, the world tilted.
It started as a pressure behind my eyes. Then came the heat. Sweat pooled at the back of my neck. My hands shook. The edges of the room blurred, then sharpened, then blurred again.
I staggered back toward the guest quarters. I didn’t remember if anyone helped me or if I made it on my own. But by the time I collapsed onto the bed, my stomach was rebelling, and my limbs ached as if I had walked through fire.
I groaned, curling onto my side as chills wracked my body. “Poison?” I croaked. “No… too slow…”
My instincts screamed again—this time in warning, not rage. This wasn’t a lethal dose. This was something crafted with care. Something to disable, not destroy.
Lexy didn’t want me dead. Not yet.
She just wanted me out of the way.
Lying in that bed, sweating through the sheets as the fever rose and fell in waves, my thoughts turned dark. I had underestimated her. Again. I had assumed her loyalty to the alliance would make her predictable, hesitant. But this… this was a quiet strike—a masterstroke of political warfare. A delay, masked as circumstance. An illness masked as bad luck. A cage, without visible bars.
Days passed.
I kept track as best I could through the changing light in the window. Sometimes, one of Lexy’s healers would enter. They'd bring herbal mixtures or cool cloths. I pretended to be more delirious than I was, listening carefully, studying their movements. None of them slipped. They spoke only of recovery, never revealing more.
I knew the truth, though.
They had grounded me.
My strength would return—I could feel it returning slowly each morning—but it wasn’t fast enough. Each day here was a day Lexy gained the upper hand. I had planned to be back at my stronghold by now, rallying on my inner circle, reestablishing communication, correcting whatever disruptions Lexy had caused.
Now, I was confined.
The room was comfortable, even luxurious, but I saw it for what it was: a gilded cell. The guards outside pretended they weren’t watching me, but I caught their shifts at the door and the way they moved was just a little too slowly when I tested the perimeter.
I wasn’t free. I wasn’t in control. And worse—I was alone.
I sat upright in bed, sweating through another tremor of heat. I wiped a trembling hand across my forehead and let it drop to my lap. My mind burned hotter than my body. *What is she planning?*
Lexy had always been smart, but this was something else. This was premeditated. No doubt she’d called her elders the moment the celebrations ended, perhaps even the night before. If she had Tarria back—or even a clue about her fate—my entire position could unravel.
And now, she had me pinned.
I clenched the bed sheet in my fists, jaw tight. I couldn’t show weakness, not when she would surely send someone to assess me. Whether it was one of her warriors, a healer, or even Lexy herself—I would have to be ready.
I breathed deeply through my nose, forcing myself calm.
Lexy had made her move. She thought she had time now. She thought she had neutralized me.
Fine.
Let her believe that.
I would recover. I would play their game—for now. I had survived worse. The key was patience.
I stared at the ceiling, eyes narrowing with each slow breath. If she was keeping me here, that meant she feared what I could do if I got out. That meant Tarria was either back or close to being found. And that meant everything I’d built was under threat.
I couldn’t contact hmy men. I couldn’t leave. But there was one thing I could do—plan.
Even though I was caged, I was dangerous. Maybe more so.
Because now, there was no doubt in my mind—Lexy had declared war. Not openly, not yet. But in the silence of missing men, the taste of tainted food, and the watchful eyes of guards who wouldn’t admit they were guarding me, the message was clear.
She knew what I was. And she wasn’t afraid to act on it.
I smiled faintly despite the fever’s return. “Well played, Lexy,” I whispered to the ceiling.
“But the game’s not over.”
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