Invincible Blood Sorceror

Chapter 178: Two elves want me

”You both speak about survival and power,” Jorghan said, his voice cutting through their exchange.

”But what you’re really asking is which of you I’ll let use me first.”

The bluntness of his statement created a moment of silence.

Naikini’s vertical pupils dilated slightly, her scales shimmering. Yasoraga’s dark eyes narrowed, reassessing him with sharper focus.

”Direct,” Yasoraga said after a pause.

”Refreshing, actually.”

”Accurate,” Naikini added, her smile returning.

”Though ’use’ implies passivity. I prefer to think of it as mutual benefit.”

”Everything in clan politics is mutual benefit,” Yasoraga said.

”Until one party decides they’ve extracted enough value and discards the other.”

”Which is why strength matters,” Naikini countered.

”The strong aren’t discarded. They do the discarding.”

Jorghan let his gaze move deliberately between them, taking in every detail of their appearances, their body language, and their carefully maintained facades.

He wanted them both.

Not for their political connections or their clan resources.

Just them.

Stripped of titles and strategies and manipulation.

But he kept that desire carefully hidden behind his neutral expression, the same way he’d learned to hide everything else that mattered.

”I appreciate the interest,” he said finally.

”Both of you make compelling cases. But I’m not in the habit of making decisions while drunk at a feast.”

Sigora exhaled quietly behind him, a sound of approval.

Naikini’s smile widened, genuine amusement flickering in her eyes. ”Wise. Though I wonder if you’re as cautious in all your decisions.”

”He wouldn’t be here if he was,” Yasoraga observed. ”Coming to Alankar as a Sol’vur takes a certain kind of recklessness.”

”Or confidence,” Naikini suggested.

”Or stupidity,” Yasoraga added neutrally.

Jorghan raised his glass slightly in acknowledgment.

”Perhaps all three.”

The conversation had reached a natural pause, but neither woman moved to leave. They were waiting, testing to see who he’d engage with more directly, who he’d give the advantage to.

Instead, Jorghan turned slightly toward where Sigora was.

”I think I need some air. The hall is getting crowded.”

It was a clear dismissal of both women, a refusal to play their game on their terms.

Naikini’s expression showed brief surprise before settling into something more calculating. ”Another time then, Jorghan Sol’vur. I look forward to continuing our conversation.”

Yasoraga simply nodded, her dark eyes revealing nothing.

”Indeed. Enjoy the remainder of your evening.”

Both women withdrew, moving in opposite directions through the hall.

Sigora moved closer to Jorghan, her voice low. ”That was dangerous. Both of them will remember being dismissed.”

”Good,” Jorghan replied, watching Naikini’s golden threads sway hypnotically as she walked away.

”Let them remember. Let them wonder. Keeps them interested.”

”And when they realize you’re not interested in their political games?”

Jorghan’s lips curved into something dark.

”Who says I’m not interested? Just not in the games they think I’m playing.”

Sigora followed his gaze and understood immediately.

”Jorghan...”

”I know,” he said simply.

”But a man can enjoy the view while planning his strategy.”

His tattoos pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat, blood singing with potential and desire in equal measure.

The feast continued around them, but Jorghan’s mind was already working through the possibilities these two women represented.

Not as allies or assets.

But as conquests.

-

The hall had begun emptying, elves filtering out in small groups as the evening wore on. Torchlight flickered against stone walls, casting long shadows that danced across abandoned tables still laden with half-finished plates and cups.

Jorghan stood near the edge of the hall, Sigora at his side, watching the crowd thin.

Movement caught his attention.

Another woman approached through the diminishing crowd, and immediately Jorghan recognized the difference in her presence. This wasn’t the predatory confidence of Naikini or the calculated control of Yasoraga.

This was authority that needed no announcement.

She stood tall, her bearing radiating command that came from decades of exercising absolute power. Her skin was blue, and her features carried the sharp elegance common to high-born elves. Her hair was styled in intricate patterns that spoke of status and tradition, woven with silver ornaments that clinked softly with each step.

Her attire was formal but functional: robes of deep crimson and black that moved around her like liquid shadow. Her eyes were dark amber, holding depths that suggested she’d seen more of the world’s cruelty and beauty than most would experience in ten lifetimes.

She moved with purpose, her path direct and unhesitating.

Sigora’s posture shifted immediately, recognition flashing across her face.

”Jorghan,” she murmured quietly.

”That’s Indriyani. Matriarch of the powerful clan, almost equal to Amasurata.”

Jorghan’s mind processed the information, and she remembered her entrance into the hall and the brief staring contest between Madayanti and her.

Indriyani stopped before him, her eyes studying him with an intensity that felt different from the earlier assessments. This wasn’t measuring him as a potential tool or weapon.

This felt like recognition.

”Jorghan Sol’vur,” she said, her voice carrying a richness that commanded attention without effort.

”I am Indriyani.”

”Matriarch,” Jorghan acknowledged, inclining his head slightly.

Her eyes flickered briefly to Sigora before returning to him.

”I wonder if we might speak privately. There are matters I wish to discuss that would benefit from discretion.”

The request was phrased politely, but it carried weight.

Jorghan felt Sigora tense slightly behind him. Private conversations with clan matriarchs were rarely simple affairs. They came with implications, expectations, and often traps disguised as opportunities.

But refusing outright would be an insult.

And something in Indriyani’s demeanor suggested this wasn’t another attempt at manipulation like the previous two encounters. There was a gravity to her request, a seriousness that went beyond political maneuvering.

”Of course,” Jorghan replied, his voice neutral.

”Where would you prefer to speak?”

Indriyani said, ”Let me take you to my favorite place in the city.”

She turned and began walking, clearly expecting him to follow.

Jorghan glanced at Sigora, whose expression showed concern but also understanding. This was part of navigating clan politics. Private audiences with matriarchs couldn’t be avoided indefinitely.

”I’ll wait here,” Sigora said quietly.

”Call if you need anything.”

Jorghan nodded and followed Indriyani through the hall.

-

The view was spectacular.

The balcony overlooked the massive waterfall, close enough that mist occasionally drifted across the stone, creating temporary rainbows in the fading light. The sound of falling water was constant but not overwhelming, creating a privacy barrier as effective as any closed room.

The abyss yawned beyond the falls, darkness so absolute it seemed to devour light rather than simply reflecting it back. The combination of the eternal waterfall and the infinite darkness created a scene that felt suspended between creation and destruction.

Indriyani moved to the balcony’s edge, her back to Jorghan, her pale blue skin seeming to glow faintly in the mist and fading sunlight.

”I knew your father,” she said without preamble, her voice carrying over the water’s roar without needing to shout.

”Before the betrayal, before everything went wrong.

We were close, for a time.”

Jorghan remained silent, sensing this wasn’t a conversation that required his immediate input.

”Ser’gu was magnificent,” Indriyani continued, still not turning to face him.

”Powerful, passionate, convinced he could change the world through sheer force of will and absolute commitment to his ideals. He made you believe things were possible just by believing in them himself.”

She turned then, her eyes fixing on Jorghan with an intensity that felt invasive.

”I loved him. Or thought I did. It’s hard to distinguish at that age, when hormones and politics and genuine emotion all tangle together into something that feels profound whether it actually is or not.”

”But he was a fool,” she continued, her tone becoming harder.

”He trusted the wrong people, believed friendship mattered more than power structures, and thought loyalty was something that could survive political calculation. When he was betrayed, he responded with pure emotion rather than strategy. He lashed out at targets that felt satisfying rather than targets that would have actually solved his problem.”

Indriyani stepped closer to Jorghan, close enough that he could see the subtle patterns in her unusual skin, the way her eyes reflected light like deep water.

”If I’d pursued him more aggressively, if I’d secured a marriage alliance before the betrayal, perhaps things would have been different. Perhaps he would have had someone to temper his impulses, to guide his rage toward productive ends rather than destructive ones.”

She paused, and something shifted in her expression.

”But I didn’t pursue him because I recognized he was fundamentally unsuited for the kind of political partnership I needed. He was too emotional, too naive, and too convinced that being right justified any action.”

Her hand reached out, fingers trailing along Jorghan’s jaw in a gesture that was both assessing and possessive.

”You, however, are different. You have his power but with sharper intelligence. His passion but with better control.

You’re what he could have been if someone had shaped him properly.”

”And you look just like him.”

Jorghan stepped back, breaking the contact, his expression carefully neutral.