Chapter 172: Mirella Voss.
The corridors of the Palace of Lavender were too wide to seem like mere corridors. The walls had pale stone, violet banners, crystallized-blood lamps, and tall doors with discreet symbols engraved along the edges. It was not a place made to flaunt wealth like the Palace of Roses, nor to intimidate through pure military tradition. Lavender felt quieter. More calculated. The kind of place where someone could die before realizing they had entered enemy territory.
Victor walked behind Eleonora without a shirt, because he still had not returned to his room to change and because no one there had the right to pretend surprise after invading his training time. Eleonora noticed the glances of staff and a few young vampires in the corridors, but did not comment. Victor did not either. If the Palace of Lavender wanted to observe him, then it could observe properly.
"You are going to meet the captain of Squad Seven," Eleonora said, walking with her hands calmly clasped behind her back. "Mirella Voss. She is competent, problematic, and has an irritating tendency to evaluate people as if she were choosing weapons from a shelf."
"Is that bad?"
"That depends on whether you like being treated as a test object."
Victor shrugged.
"It has happened before."
"I am sure it has." Eleonora glanced at him from the side. "But try not to provoke her in the first five minutes. Mirella is not the kind of woman who answers provocation with conversation."
"Then how does she answer?"
"Usually with violence."
"I like her a little more."
Eleonora sighed, but there was a small smile at the corner of her mouth. They turned down another corridor and passed through two black iron doors before reaching a broad room, more like a military waiting hall than an office. There were maps on the wall, a large table at the back, dark leather chairs, and a stand with weapons arranged impeccably. Everything was clean, aligned, and cold. Almost too clean.
Mirella Voss was seated in the main chair as if the entire room had been built to frame her.
She had long light-blue hair, tied in strands that fell over her shoulders and down her back with exaggerated volume, almost impossible to ignore. Her eyes were red, sharp, and attentive, with a gleam that had nothing lazy about it despite her relaxed posture. She wore a tight white military uniform, with glossy black details on the arms, collar, belt, and high boots. The outfit was supposed to look authoritative. And it did. But it also looked as if it had been sewn by someone who confused military discipline with visual provocation.
The way she was sitting did not help. One leg crossed, her body leaning slightly back, one hand resting on the arm of the chair and the other holding a black-and-white cap between her fingers. It was not an accidental posture. Mirella knew exactly how she occupied space. She knew where the light struck her hair, where the uniform marked her body, and how people’s eyes moved when they entered.
Victor looked at her for two seconds.
"Is that the captain?"
Eleonora answered with tired calm.
"Yes."
Mirella smiled.
The smile was not polite.
It was interested.
Her eyes passed over Victor from top to bottom, stopping a little longer on his shoulders, chest, the training marks on his skin, and his arms still faintly scratched by recent energy. Then, before Victor could properly see the movement, she vanished from the chair.
In the next instant, she was beside him.
Far too close.
Victor did not move, but his eyes tracked her position with minimal delay. Mirella tilted her face, analyzed his arm, let her gaze travel over his chest and then his neck, where there were still very discreet marks from Carmilla’s and Scarlet’s bites. Her smile widened.
"So you are Victor Valentine."
"Depends who is asking."
"I asked."
"Then yes."
Mirella slowly circled him, as if examining a rare piece. She did not touch him, but came close enough to make it clear that it was not from lack of desire. Eleonora remained a few steps behind, watching the scene with the expression of someone who had expected this behavior and was still annoyed at having to witness it.
"Well-trained body," Mirella said. "But not through traditional discipline. You have marks of forced adaptation. Shoulder, forearm, ribs. A lot of recent healing. A lot of poorly distributed damage. You fight like someone who learned by getting beaten."
Victor smiled.
"I learn quickly."
"I noticed."
Rowena’s voice entered his head without warning, dry and filled with disgust.
"That blue-haired slut is reeking of arousal."
Victor almost laughed.
Almost.
He kept his face neutral through sheer effort, but Eleonora noticed a tiny change in his expression. Mirella noticed too, because her eyes became even more attentive.
"Something funny?"
Victor looked at Mirella.
"Nothing I can say out loud without causing a diplomatic incident."
Rowena growled inside his mind.
"Coward."
Victor answered mentally, without moving his lips.
"Do you want to start a war inside the palace I just entered?"
"I do."
"Of course you do."
Mirella stopped in front of him and tilted her head slightly.
"Are you listening to someone?"
Victor stared at her.
"Maybe."
Eleonora closed her eyes for a second.
"Victor."
"What? She asked."
Mirella seemed to like the answer. She moved one step closer, now looking directly into his eyes. The difference in height was not great, but her presence made up for anything. There was something about her that recalled ice and blade at the same time, but not like Grace. Grace was cold silence. Mirella was cold with a uniform, a whip, and a desire to test limits.
"Interesting," she said. "You do not try to seem obedient."
"That would be a lie."
"I do not like liars in the field."
"Then we will get along."
"Maybe." She looked at Eleonora. "Does he know how to follow orders?"
Eleonora answered far too quickly:
"No."
Victor looked at her.
"You did not even think."
"I did not need to."
Mirella laughed softly.
"That could be a problem."
Victor crossed his arms.
"Depends on the order."
Mirella turned her eyes back to him.
"If I order you to retreat?"
"If it makes sense, I retreat."
"And if I order it without explaining?"
"Then it depends on how much I trust you."
She smiled.
"You do not."
"I just met you."
"Fair."
Eleonora entered the conversation before it turned into some kind of strange contest.
"Victor will accompany the Bramford mission. Officially, he is not yet a fixed member of Squad Seven, but he will operate under your supervision while we evaluate where he fits best."
Mirella looked at Eleonora as if that part were the least interesting.
"I read the summary."
"Then you know I do not want him dead on the first mission."
"I do not intend to kill him."
Victor raised an eyebrow.
"Generous."
Mirella looked at him with a slow smile.
"I intend to see how much he can endure."
Rowena made an irritated sound inside his mind.
"I hate her."
Victor answered mentally:
"You hate everyone."
"She is looking at you as if she wants to bite."
"You did that too."
"I tried to tear pieces off. It is different."
Victor bit the inside corner of his cheek to avoid laughing again. Mirella noticed his restraint and took another step closer, staring at his face as if trying to read the invisible conversation.
"You have too many distractions for someone going to hunt a Specialist."
Victor looked at her with more attention.
"Ghideon DuskBlood."
"Yes." Mirella finally moved away a little and returned to the table. "Fifteen hundred years old, specialist in blood shadows and identity forgery. He does not win through direct strength. He wins by confusing, swapping faces, erasing tracks, and making entire teams chase false corpses."
Victor followed her to the table.
"He sounds irritating."
"He is." Mirella picked up a dossier and tossed it onto the wood. "Bramford has a port, alleys, lesser families, illegal trade, and plenty of people who would rather lie than breathe. It is a perfect place for someone like him."
Eleonora rested a hand on the back of a chair.
"And that is why you are going to need Victor."
Mirella opened the dossier.
"I need reliable soldiers."
"You will have a useful monster."
Victor looked at Eleonora.
"Thank you?"
"It was not an insult."
"It sounded like one."
Mirella skimmed the dossier, then stared at Victor again.
"You are used to destroying the problem."
"When it works."
"In Bramford, that could kill the only person who knows where Ghideon is."
"Then I destroy less."
"Can you?"
Victor thought for a second.
"Probably."
Mirella let out a short laugh.
"Terrible answer."
"Honest answer."
"Better than a lie."
She closed the dossier and leaned her hip against the edge of the table, still wearing that white uniform far too tight for someone supposedly representing military discipline. Her gaze remained fixed on Victor, but now there was calculation beside the interest. She was not only enjoying what she saw. She was measuring risk.
"You leave with me at nightfall. You will meet the rest of the squad at the western gate. Bring a weapon, cloak, field documents, and anything you use to avoid dying."
Victor shrugged.
"I usually improvise."
"Then improvise better than most."
"I will try."
"And one more thing." Mirella approached again, slowly, stopping in front of him. "Inside the mission, I give the orders. Outside it, you can be the Divine Blood Dragon, husband of whoever you want, and a political problem for half a clan. In the field, if I tell you to stop, you stop."
Victor held her gaze.
The room went quiet.
Eleonora watched without interfering.
Rowena growled in his head, "She wants to put a leash on you."
Victor answered in thought:
"Everyone does."
Mirella waited.
Victor smiled.
"If your order makes sense, I obey."
"And if it does not?"
"I save the mission anyway."
Mirella looked at Eleonora.
"He is going to be trouble."
Eleonora smiled.
"I warned you."
Mirella looked back at Victor, and her eyes gleamed with that dangerous interest again.
"Good."
Victor tilted his head.
"Good?"
"I was bored."
Rowena let out a dry laugh inside his mind.
"She is insane."
Victor smiled at Mirella.
"Looks like I am going to like Squad Seven."
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