Kael approached the carriage that waited in outside the Thompson Mansion, his movements hurried but restrained, as though he feared even the sound of his boots against the cobblestones might betray him. His lip still bled, the metallic taste thick on his tongue, and the left side of his face throbbed with a swelling heat that was almost unbearable. He hadn't wanted to leave through the front—too many eyes, too many whispers waiting to latch onto his shame and ask why. Instead, he slipped out the back door, cloaked in the lingering scent of smoke, blood, and his own failure.
The carriage door creaked open, and inside Elarythn reclined with deliberate poise, as though she had been waiting for hours but would never admit to the discomfort of impatience. Her gaze darted immediately to his injuries, her lips curving into a faint smirk.
"I didn't expect you to be caught when I thought of helping you," she murmured, her tone laced with derision.
Kael ignored her remark, his jaw tightening as he brushed his hair back from his forehead, trying to regain some semblance of control. He settled into the seat opposite her, his dark eyes half-lidded in exhaustion, though the storm within them was unmistakable.
Elarythn's voice broke the silence again, sly and needling. "What do you even see in my sister? Serenya isn't as perfect as everyone seems to think—"
Kael's patience fractured. His hand shot up, sharp and commanding, silencing her mid-sentence. His tone was low, dangerous.
"Stop trying to badmouth your sister." His words cut through the carriage like a blade. From within his coat, he pulled out a small object, glinting faintly in the low light. He tossed it onto her lap, the weight of it landing with an undeniable finality. "This is her birth necklace."
The delicate chain coiled like a serpent against Elarythn's skirts. She picked it up with eager fingers, her eyes lighting with a greedy sort of delight.
"I almost thought you couldn't get it," she said, smiling faintly as though savoring some personal victory.
Kael leaned back against the seat, closing his eyes. But behind his lids, all he could see was Serenya's face—her refusal, her stubborn choice to remain with the Emperor when she could have run. Why? Why had she chosen chains over freedom? Was she already in love with him? The thought gnawed at him like acid.
Elarythn tilted her head, her smirk sharpening. "Stop thinking about my sister and move on. I'm sure by now the Emperor might've bedded her a couple of times."
Kael's eyes snapped open. They glowed with a black intensity that silenced her instantly. He leaned forward, his voice a cold, dangerous whisper.
"If I hear another word, you'll get down—right here, right now."
Elarythn looked away, her throat tightening. She hadn't come all this way, hadn't woven her lies and schemes to her husband to be , only to be discarded on the roadside. Still, the threat in Kael's tone left her pressed against the seat in reluctant silence.
Outside, the carriage rolled on, wheels clattering against the cobblestones, carrying both deeper into the shadows of their intentions.
---
Back at the Thompson mansion, the air was still scented faintly with roses and candle wax, remnants of the evening's earlier chaos. The chamber shimmered faintly with the trace of Zareth's power as he and Serenya reappeared, the world around them snapping back into place with the unnerving jolt of apparation.
Serenya staggered slightly, her stomach twisting from the sudden shift. She looked around, disoriented, but Zareth stood tall and composed, as though such movement were as natural to him as breathing.
"Tell me about your birth necklace," he said suddenly, his deep voice commanding yet almost deceptively calm. Without waiting for her response, he dropped down on one knee, reaching for her foot. His large hands worked with practiced precision picking her shoe from the floor and fastening the strap of her shoe.
Serenya's eyes widened, scandalized at the sight of an Emperor on the floor before her. She instinctively stepped back, but his grip on her ankle tightened, firm and unyielding, anchoring her in place.
"I don't think it's proper for an Emperor to be doing this," she stammered, her voice soft, uncertain.
Zareth's mouth curved into a sharp, humorless smirk. "And yet here I am. Do you plan to stop me? You can actually do that with a kiss though" His tone dripped with amusement as his eyes flicked up to hers, dark and unreadable.
Serenya blushed clamping her mouth shut .
He rose smoothly, towering over her once more, his presence overwhelming, and repeated with the weight of steel in his voice, "I asked you about your birth necklace."
Serenya drew a shaky breath, her fingers brushing her bare throat where the necklace should have been. "Each one of us… we're given a necklace that is said to protect us. Mine was supposed to be given to me as a baby, but I only received it when I was eight. My grandmother told me never to take it off. It's the only thing she's ever given me."
Zareth tilted his head, his eyes narrowing with amusement but didn't comment on it .
He extended his hand, the gesture deceptively polite. "Come. There's a place we must be. And I assure you—Kael will not leave Nytheris without returning what belongs to you."
Her hesitation was brief before she placed her smaller hand into his. The moment she did, his grip tightened, possessive, as though to remind her that he would always look out for her .
The world warped around them again, and when the haze lifted, Serenya found herself standing before a towering white edifice, the tallest building she had ever seen. Its marble spires pierced the afternoon sky, glowing faintly under the sunlight .
"Where is this place?" she whispered, awe widening her eyes.
"The Council," Zareth answered curtly. His tone held no reverence, only authority. "But that's not where we're going today."
The Council. Serenya had heard of it, the great legal body that spanned the twenty-six kingdoms of the Empire of Thorns. Yet the building before her seemed more myth than reality.
Zareth led her past it, his hand still firmly gripping hers, until they reached another structure—still grand, though dwarfed by the Council's splendor. Inside, the air was sharp with herbs and metallic tang, the faint undercurrent of blood. Men and women dressed in pristine white moved about the halls, their faces turning immediately as Zareth entered.
One by one, they bowed deeply, their voices hushed. Serenya noticed the way none dared look at him directly, their gazes lowering to the polished floor. Zareth ignored them entirely, his attention fixed ahead as he pushed open a door.
Inside, a man with silver hair hunched over a cluttered desk, glasses perched precariously on his nose. He didn't look up at first, muttering, "One of these days, I'll have to lock my door if I ever hope to work in peace."
Zareth pulled a chair out for Serenya with deliberate grace. She sat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, aware of the oddity if the room .
"Have you inspected the bodies that were brought in?" Zareth's questioned.
The man finally looked up, his smile unsettling as he wiped blood from his hands. He gave Serenya a glance that made her shift uncomfortably before answering. "I did. But it wasn't an attack, Your Majesty. It was something they consumed."
Zareth's hair fell across his forehead as he leaned in, his presence suffocating. "Are you telling me a pure-blooded vampire family was poisoned to death? We both know poisons do not affect grown vampires." His words cracked like a whip.
The man faltered, his eyes flickering nervously toward Serenya.
Zareth's gaze darkened, his voice dropping into a lethal murmur. "Answer the damn question."
The man swallowed hard. "Witherbane," he admitted. "A herb thought to be extinct since the late Emperors ordered its destruction. But traces of it were found in their systems."
Zareth's mouth curved into a crooked smile, his voice laced with venom. "Interesting. Do you have a sample here?"
Without waiting for permission, he strode toward the restricted section. The man scurried after him, nearly tripping over his own feet.
Left alone, Serenya's eyes wandered. The shelves brimmed with glass containers, each etched with strange inscriptions. The faint hum of power seemed to radiate from them, filling the air with unease. Her hand drifted instinctively to her bare throat. A sharp pang of loss tightened her chest—the absence of her necklace felt heavier here.
Something on the shelf drew her. A particular glass vial, glowing faintly, seemed to call to her. Almost without thinking, she stood up reaching out, her fingertips brushing the cool surface.
The instant her hand touched it, the glass cracked.
Serenya gasped as it shattered, the hot liquid inside spilling over her skin. A searing pain shot up her arm, her flesh blistering as she stumbled back.
She tried to stifle the sound of pain, desperate not to draw Zareth and the man's attention. She bent quickly, attempting to gather the shards, but a jagged piece sliced across her palm. Blood welled instantly, scarlet against her pale skin.
Before she could hide it, the door opened. Zareth's sharp eyes landed on her instantly. He crossed the room in a blur, his expression unreadable but his presence suffocating.
"Did you hurt yourself?" His voice was deceptively calm, dangerous in its softness.
He seized her wrist, pulling her hand forward despite her instinct to hide it. His gaze darkened at the sight of blood trickling from the wound.
Pulling out a kerchief, he wrapped it around her hand, his fingers pressing firmly against hers.
"I was just trying to—" Serenya began, her voice trembling.
"It's okay little dove " Zareth interrupted, his tone brooking no argument.
The man who has reentered with Zareth mouth opened , his eyes widening at the sight of the broken vial. "Is it not Robert?" Zareth asked with that unnerving smile and the man nodded smiling.
"It is your imperial majesty".