Velmira smiled triumphantly, though a shadow of irritation flickered in her eyes at the fact that Zareth had asked the human before he acknowledged her. Still, she moved with the confidence of a predator certain of her prey, brushing past Serenya and gliding to the other side of Zareth. She lowered her lashes and gave him a bashful smile, lips trembling with practiced shyness.
Zareth did not spare her a glance. His expression was unreadable marble, carved into sharp perfection, and Serenya realized just how pitiful Velmira's efforts were when met with that kind of indifference.
He began walking, his strides purposeful, commanding. Serenya found herself falling a step behind intentionally, she needed some space for herself . Velmira, of course, quickened her pace, nearly tripping on the hem of her gown in her eagerness to match him.
Serenya tilted her head up toward the sky. The heavens above were dark velvet streaked with silver threads of stars, their cold light spilling across the palace towers. Her throat tightened. Her parents might be gazing at the same stars now, perhaps wondering if she was safe. Her chest ached with the memory of her mother's voice, the warmth of her father's hand guiding her through their Kingdom.
But before she could let herself breathe in that fragile nostalgia, a familiar warmth curled around her fingers. Zareth's hand slipped effortlessly into hers, long and strong, swallowing her smaller hand whole.
Her breath caught.
"Why are you so quiet?" His voice was low, rough silk laced with warmth.
Velmira, who had strutted two steps ahead, faltered and deliberately slowed down, stepping back until she walked beside them. Her eyes glittered with anger and annoyance as she caught sight of their entwined hands.
Serenya swallowed before finally replying, her voice almost trembling. "I… I miss my family."
Zareth chuckled. The sound was a blade dragged slowly across velvet—smooth, dangerous, but leaving its mark. He leaned closer until his hot breath fanned her cheek. Serenya froze . Every nerve in her body screamed at her to retreat, yet his grip around her hand dragged her closer, his other arm coiling casually but possessively around her waist.
"I'm sure you do," he whispered, his lips brushing so close to her ear that heat flushed her neck. "But don't worry. We'll see them—after you fall in love with me or better still my offer is still available."
Her eyes widened, and fury surged into her chest. She tilted her head up to glare at him, though her knees nearly buckled under the intensity of his gaze. "Why are you like this? This isn't how you court a woman!"
He laughed—low, amused, arrogant. "Says who? A courtship guide written by trembling poets?" His mouth curved into a devil's smile. "No, Serenya. You're right, though. This isn't what I do when I court a woman. This is what I do when I decide to take my time with someone I already own."
Her lips parted, but words faltered. The sheer audacity of him—no, the unbearable narcissism—set her blood boiling.
"You…!" she managed, fists clenching.
Velmira, glared at Serenya before she cleared her throat delicately. Her voice cut like brittle glass. "Is there something wrong, Princess Serenya?" She practically spat the title, her crimson eyes sharp as blades, mocking and belittling in equal measure.
Serenya's mouth opened, but before Zareth could say something shameful, she cut in quickly, her voice steady. "No. I'm perfectly fine."
Zareth's lips curled into a wicked smirk. His thumb traced a circle over her knuckles, subtle but searing. Velmira's eyes dropped to their clasped hands, fury coiling under her forced smile.
"Your Imperial Majesty," Velmira began, fluttering her lashes with practiced innocence, "I wanted you to know that I am always available whenever you… crave blood. Just as you used to."
Finally, Zareth turned his gaze on her. Velmira straightened, breath catching in anticipation.
But the words that fell from his mouth were ice. "There's no need. Serenya would be more than willing to give me her blood."
Serenya's head snapped toward him, scandalized. "Why would I do that?!" she blurted, heat flooding her face. Then, out of sheer defiance, she added, "In fact, I don't mind if you take hers. Drink from her however you want." She waved her hand dismissively, her cheeks heated up at the memory of what had happened the last time.
Zareth's smile vanished. His eyes narrowed, sharp enough to slice through her bravado.
Velmira, however, smiled like a cat savoring cream.
"Of course," she cooed, stepping forward, emboldened. "Why wouldn't you, your Imperial Majesty? You've taken my blood countless times in the past." Her cheeks flushed as if replaying memories that did not exist in the way she painted them.
The truth, gleamed cruelly in Zareth's smirk. Yes, he had taken Velmira's blood—but never from her veins. Always from a glass, detached, distant.
Zareth ignored her and pulled Serenya even closer until their shoulders brushed. Velmira faltered, her proud smile trembling.
"Zareth, I'm sure Velmira would be more than willing—" Serenya began, trying to defuse the tension, but the emperor suddenly released her hand.
The warmth vanished, replaced by an unsettling void. Serenya blinked, stunned, as he stepped back.
"You can retire to your chambers," Zareth muttered coldly. Without another glance, he turned and strode away, his cloak snapping in the night breeze like a slash of darkness.
Serenya's heart jolted. She stood frozen, watching his retreating back vanish into the shadows. She had grown so used to his suffocating dominance, his relentless possession, that the emptiness he left behind clawed at her chest. Her lips trembled, and before she realized it, she had taken a hesitant step forward to follow.
But Velmira cut across her path, a predator's grin slicing across her face.
She folded her arms and looked down at Serenya, her voice dripping venom. "You really think you're special, don't you? A human daring to defy him. Trust me, when he's bored, he'll discard you like ashes."
Serenya's pulse thudded in her ears. She wanted to keep silent, but the words tore out of her lips. "I doubt that will ever happen."
Velmira froze, then stepped forward, her petite frame forced taller by the sheer arrogance of her chin. She was shorter than Serenya, yet her stare burned with the desire to tower.
"And what makes you think a fragile little human like yourself could ever be more than a blood bank to him?"
Serenya's reply was soft but laced with quiet steel. "If I were only his blood bank, he would've drunk from me countless times already. But he hasn't—except that one time. Were you only his blood bank, Velmira?"
Velmira's eyes widened, her lips parting soundlessly before she snapped them shut. Rage trembled under her skin, threatening to burst. She exhaled sharply, composing herself with visible effort.
"You won't last," she muttered, venom dripping from every syllable. "No human has ever sat on the throne before, and you will not be the first. Soon, you'll bow before me."
She swirled dramatically, skirts flaring, and stalked away into the darkness without waiting for Serenya's reply.
Serenya stood rooted, her fists trembling at her sides. Her heart pounded, not from Velmira's threats, but from the ghost of Zareth's absence.
Meanwhile, Zareth's footsteps echoed through the empty corridors of the palace. His jaw was clenched so tight his teeth threatened to splinter. His stride was deliberate, fast, like a beast caged too long.
He hadn't walked away because of anger—he could never truly be angry at Serenya. No, the truth was far more dangerous. He had felt it again.
That shift.
The same ominous shift he had felt the day his mother died.
Inside his chambers, the doors slammed shut with a thunderous echo. He yanked off his gloves, throwing them onto the table. His hand trembled as black veins spread like poisonous vines beneath his pale skin.
He hissed, ripping at the collar of his shirt until it tore apart, fabric falling uselessly to the floor. The black veins pulsed across his chest, crawling upward to stain his neck like living shadows.
His reflection in the mirror stared back at him—red eyes burning darker than blood, hair hanging wild over his face, monstrous veins throbbing across his muscles. He pressed both hands against the table, wood groaning under his strength.
"How…annoying." His voice was a growl, low and feral.
The room seemed to shudder at his fury.