Elarynth's smile curved like a quiet promise, her eyes glittering behind her goblet. Serenya instinctively took a small step toward her sister, a hesitant flicker of hope crossing her face. But before she could move further, her wrist was caught, Zareth's fingers wrapping around her hand with iron precision.
The warmth of his grip contrasted with the cold warning in his voice.
"We came here for the old couple's anniversary," he murmured, his lips barely moving as he leaned close, his breath brushing her ear like a taunt. "That's the only thing we'll do."
Serenya frowned, tugging gently against his hold. "I just want to talk to my sister," she whispered, her voice tinged with both plea and defiance.
Zareth's eyes narrowed, not on her, but on Kael—whose unwavering gaze lingered on Serenya with a hunger that was far too bold. Zareth's lips tilted into that crooked, unnerving smile that always unsettled anyone who dared challenge him.
"I don't think that pest would allow it," he muttered lowly, the disdain dripping like venom.
Her heart skipped. Pest. He said it deliberately, knowing she would bristle. And she did—her glare sharp, ready to fire a retort at him. But before she could speak, a ripple of people approached them, bowing and offering pleasantries to the Emperor. Serenya swallowed her words, her tongue biting down on silence, while Zareth's grip only tightened further on her hand—as if reminding her who she belonged to.
Still, she felt it. Kael's gaze—burning, insistent—trailing over her, piercing her even when she didn't look his way. Every stolen glance from him made Zareth's thumb flex against her knuckles, his hold more like shackles than comfort.
Across the hall, Elarynth was without her veil , sipping her wine as if the world revolved around her. Her tone was light, almost lazy.
"I didn't expect to meet you here."
Kael's expression shifted when he saw her unveiled. His smile was soft, his voice controlled. "Me neither. I didn't expect to see you as well."
But even as he spoke, his eyes betrayed him, sliding toward Serenya beside the Emperor. She looked… untouched by time. More ethereal, more devastating than the last time he had seen her. Someone at her side said something; Serenya answered with a polite smile, and the sight tugged painfully at his chest.
Kael forced himself to turn away—only to feel a weight, heavy and suffocating. Zareth. The Emperor's gaze was a blade pressing against his throat. Kael glanced back, daring to challenge it, but Zareth's lips only twisted into that crooked, mocking smile. A smile that said Don't even think about it . Kael looked away first.
When the nobles drifted aside, Elarynth leaned toward him, feigning a conspiratorial whisper. "I'm here with my husband-to-be. We're shopping for Nytherian clothes I'd seen last time." She swirled her goblet, her lashes lowering. "What about you?"
Kael's jaw tightened. "I'm here because I can't just let go of my betrothed when I've waited all my life to have her ." His eyes flicked to Serenya again, softer now. "I heard the Emperor would make an appearance, so I came knowing clearly he would bring her along . I'm… acquainted with the couple."
Elarynth's eyes gleamed. She tilted her head as if in thought, then said smoothly, her eyes moving to her sister "I'm going to help you talk to her."
Kael turned to her fully, his gratitude breaking through his usually controlled expression. "Thank you."
But Elarynth's smile was sly, serpentine. She wasn't finished.
"I'll help you," she murmured, "but you'll get me her birth necklace."
Kael blinked, frowning " Her birth necklace?" He asked and Elarythn nodded .
"The golden one on her neck , the one with the Vayrana symbol" she explained with a sly smile on her lips . Kael nodded finding no obvious reason to refuse. "Fine. I'll get it."
Elarynth smiled, the picture of satisfaction. "Good."
At the edge of the hall, whispers slithered like smoke.
"I didn't expect the rumors to be true—that His Imperial Majesty would actually make the princess his Empress," a woman whispered, her human voice tinged with envy.
Her husband scoffed under his breath. "I doubt he'll marry her. He parades with countless women. He'll be bored soon enough."
They thought themselves unheard, but the couple celebrating their anniversary heard every word. The woman glanced toward Zareth and Serenya—his hand still firmly around hers. A thought bloomed, greedy and ambitious. She nudged her husband.
"You should go to him. Speak about our daughter , he's the reason we're holding the soiree this grand."
The man hesitated, but her insistence was sharp and consistent. He nodded. Their daughter, a coy young woman in a silk gown, was summoned from her chatter and guided forward.
Mr. Thompson, as he was known, bowed deeply. "Your Imperial Majesty I hope you're enjoying the soiree" he began and then quickly added " It looks like I haven't yet introduced my daughter to you".
Zareth turned, his dark gaze sweeping over the girl. She was radiant, polished with effort. Another man might have been charmed but he had seen better.
"She is quite radiant," Zareth said smoothly.
The girl's cheeks pinked, her eyes flickering upward shyly, hope glimmering there.
But then—Zareth caught Serenya's hand and lifted it deliberately to his lips. His voice dropped into a silken, possessive murmur that carried across the hush.
"But my little dove," he drawled, his eyes locking with Serenya's, "is far more radiant than her."
His lips brushed her knuckles, lingering. Heat rushed to Serenya's cheeks, her heart stumbling. She didn't dare move, caught in the trap of his gaze whiles feeling the subtle glare from the woman. Her eyes flickered involuntarily across the room—straight into Kael's. His face had hardened, jaw clenched, as though Zareth's kiss had driven a blade straight into him.
When Serenya's gaze returned to Zareth, he was watching her with a crooked smile of pure satisfaction, as if he had orchestrated the entire exchange for his own cruel amusement.
Mr. Thompson faltered, smiling awkwardly. He excused himself quickly, moving to the table to clang a spoon against his goblet.
"There's a feast of breakfast arranged for everyone," he announced, voice too bright.
The crowd shifted toward the dining hall, the air buzzing with anticipation and tension.
The dining hall was vast, golden chandeliers glittering above a table draped in silver-threaded cloth. Plates gleamed, goblets shone, and the aroma of spiced meats and warm bread thickened the air.
Zareth took the head of the table like a throne, his aura devouring the room. Serenya was guided to his right, her place predetermined. To his left, Mr. Thompson sat, his daughter placed beside him, her posture stiff with practiced coyness.
The chair at Serenya's other side scraped. She looked up and froze.
Kael sat down. Bold, deliberate. His presence was heat and storm, so close she could feel the tension rolling off him. Serenya dared a glance at him, her pulse leaping—only for her breath to catch when she felt something on her thigh.
Zareth's hand. Sliding beneath the table, resting heavy on her thigh.
Her face flamed crimson, panic rising. She pressed her lips together tightly, afraid to even twitch.
"What are you doing?" She whispered her voice tinged with embarrassment.
Zareth leaned slightly, his voice velvet laced with steel.
"Relax, little dove," he murmured, low enough that only she heard. His thumb traced a slow circle against her skin. "Unless you want everyone here to know how easily you fluster."
Serenya's breath hitched. She sat stiffly, her fingers knotting in her lap. Kael spoke to her softly, almost desperately.
"Are you alright?"
Her eyes darted to him, wide. But before she could even attempt to answer, Zareth's grip tightened, his thumb pressing possessively into her thigh. His lips curled.
"She's perfectly fine," Zareth said aloud, his voice carrying, silencing the subtle chatter around them. He turned, smiling sharply at Kael, his eyes dark with mockery. "Aren't you, Serenya?"
Her throat constricted. She nodded faintly, trapped between Kael's concerned stare and Zareth's suffocating hold.
And Zareth leaned back in his chair, victorious, his hand never once leaving her.