Sabrina's heels echoed softly against the polished obsidian floor as she led Serenya deeper into the heart of the imperial palace. The corridors grew narrower and darker, adorned with intricate Nytherian tapestries that whispered of centuries-old secrets. Warm amber torches flickered against the walls, casting dancing shadows on the cold stone. Serenya's slippers barely made a sound, but her heartbeat thundered in her ears as she followed behind the older woman, her fingers brushing the silk of her flowing lavender gown, feeling anything but regal.
"This part of the palace," Sabrina began, her voice lowered, reverent yet laced with discomfort, "The Emperor has quarters here… for his women. They provide him with whatever needs he requires—be it physical… or blood."
Serenya stopped in her tracks, blinking, the weight of those words pressing against her chest. She felt the air leave her lungs. "Wait," she asked, her voice a mixture of disbelief and indignation, "the Emperor already had other women? Then why didn't he choose one of them to be his Empress?"
Sabrina paused mid-step, her back to Serenya, and for a moment, the silence grew heavier than stone. She finally turned, her expression unreadable. "Most women would have given anything—anything—to be where you are, Princess. To be chosen. To wear the crown. But to answer your question, I don't know why His Imperial Majesty chose you. Even I… was surprised."
Serenya exhaled sharply, her fists curling at her sides. "Surprised," she echoed bitterly. "You and me both."
With nothing more to say, Sabrina resumed walking, leading her through a pair of tall arched doors. As they opened, a wave of intoxicating perfume and tension washed over Serenya like a crashing tide.
The room beyond was lavish—opulent in a way that made her Vayranian upbringing feel dull. Velvet cushions, ornate divans, and drapes of sheer gold swayed in the perfumed breeze. Several women lounged in the chamber, their expressions turning to stone as their gazes snapped toward her.
Dressed in luxurious silks and jewels embedded into their skin, the women stood tall like statues carved from royalty itself. Their eyes shimmered—some silver, some amethyst, and one pair dull crimson that burned like dying coals.
Sabrina cleared her throat and spoke firmly, "This is Princess Serenya of Vayrana. As decreed by His Imperial Majesty, she is now your Empress to be —and the new ruler of the Inner Palace."
Gasps rippled through the air like daggers.
Serenya could feel their hatred clawing at her skin like talons.
A woman with fiery red hair stood slowly, her wine-colored gown flowing around her like smoke. Her dull red eyes narrowed, her gaze landing on Serenya with venomous precision. "The new Empress… is a human?" she asked, her lips curling into a smile that held no warmth. She looked Serenya over, like one might inspect a broken trinket.
She didn't need to say more. The insult was thick in the air.
"She is the Emperor's chosen—" Sabrina began, but Serenya raised her hand, her voice clear and cold.
"Does being human mean I am unworthy of becoming Empress?" she asked, her tone deceptively calm.
She was a princess and one of the things she hated the most is being disrespected .
The redhead let out a melodious, cruel laugh, stepping forward with predatory grace. "Only if you don't mind being his dried-up blood doll," she sneered. "The Emperor has… quite the appetite. And you, little human, look far too fragile to survive it."
Serenya's eyes flashed. Her heart pounded with anger, not fear. She didn't want to be anyone's blood doll—least of all Zareth's. But she'd be damned if she let these women degrade her.
"Perhaps that's why you're all still here," she said evenly, her eyes never leaving the redhead's. "To satisfy his appetite… while I sit on the throne beside him."
Gasps filled the chamber again, this time sharper. They had all heard from the servants how soft the princess was , no one expected this .
The redhead's smile vanished.
Sabrina gave her a subtle nod of approval and glared at the red haired before turning to follow Serenya, who had already spun on her heel, her head held high despite the unease twisting in her gut.
Behind them, the red-haired vampiress's smirk returned as she folded her arms. "This one will be easy to break," she murmured. "All she needs is the right push."
A blonde vampiress beside her looked unsettled. "What are you talking about?"
"She's scared. She doesn't belong here. She'll run, given the chance." Her red eyes glimmered. "And when she does… I'll make sure she vanish "
"How do you know?" the blonde pressed, suspicious.
"Because I'm observant," the redhead replied coolly. "Unlike you."
And with that, she turned, her crimson gown swishing dramatically as she vanished into the shadows.
Outside, Serenya's breath quickened.
"I can't do this," she muttered, halting suddenly. "Sabrina… tell me the truth. Will I have to let him feed from me? I mean—really? I don't want that. I'm not ready for that."
Sabrina sighed, her expression softening. "Vampires… feed on their partners as a form of deep connection. It's intimate. Emotional. Sacred, even. But that is between you and His Imperial Majesty. He… would never force that on you. Not unless you allowed it."
Serenya's eyes widened she couldn't imagine the Emperor feeding on her !. Her voice trembled. "This is why I said I'm not the right person for him! ."
A cold, amused voice sliced through the air like a blade.
"Is that so, little dove?"
Serenya's breath caught as she turned, finding none other than Zareth Ravaryn striding toward them, flanked by two ministers dressed in black robes. They bowed low, their gazes flickering—curious, towards the rumoured woman the Emperor had killed a council member for—before quickly retreating and walking away.
Sabrina bowed and stepped away as Serenya stiffened.
Zareth looked devastatingly regal, his black robes embroidered with silver threading that shimmered with ethereal energy. His red eyes gleamed, and his mouth curved into that signature crooked smirk that made her heart drop to her stomach.
"Zareth, I don't think I'm—" she began, only for his gaze to sharpen like a predator locking onto prey, he closed the space between them leaning down to smell her natural fragrance and whispered ." I missed you " .
Serenya took a step back , her face heating up at Zareth's open show of affection in such an open space . Zareth didn't let her create more space between them , one hand snaked around her waist, pulling her into his hard chest. The scent of his cologne—dark spice and ancient power—wrapped around her like a noose.
"Why are you always trying to run from me?" he whispered near her ear, his breath hot. "It makes me want to drag you back and chain you to my bed."
Her cheeks flushed. "You can't do that!"
Zareth chuckled darkly. "Oh, Serenya… I am the Emperor. I can do anything."
She opened her mouth to argue again, but Zareth's intense gaze trapped her. He tilted his head, brushing his cheek against hers with featherlight intimacy.
"You were saying?" he murmured, his voice a decadent threat.
Her mind blanked, her body trembling.
When she didn't answer, he let his lips graze the side of her neck. Her pulse spiked.
"Please don't suck me dry," she whispered shakily.
Zareth let out a low, rich laugh, the sound vibrating through her spine. "Darling, if I ever bite you, I promise I'll savor every drop—like the last taste of forbidden dessert."
She gasped. "That's not comforting!"
"I wasn't trying to comfort you , I'm only telling you the truth.."
Suddenly, the distant rumble of carriages cut through the charged moment. Hooves clattered, followed by a swirl of dust and clicking heels.
Zareth turned his head slightly, his smirk deepening. "Ah. Here comes my lovely family."
Serenya turned, clutching her skirts nervously as the gilded royal carriages rolled to a stop. The doors opened and out stepped a striking woman—tall, lean, with blood-red eyes and an expression carved from frost. Two younger women followed, both elegant but visibly tense.
Finally, a tall, pale man stepped out, his face unreadable.
The older woman locked eyes with Zareth—and then with Serenya.
She didn't smile.
Her heels clicked ominously as she began marching toward them, the wind catching the crimson edges of her cloak.
Zareth leaned toward Serenya, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his touch oddly gentle.
"Smile for them, little dove," he whispered, his silver eyes gleaming with amusement and something far more dangerous. "Let them know you're mine."
And as Serenya stood beside him, heart thundering in her chest, she saw the way the woman's eyes narrowed in disgust.