Chapter 41 – Silver Eyes and Crimson Wine
"You know," the Icy Man began, his voice laced with dry amusement, "you could've made that dinner a little more… enticing. I didn't leave everything behind just to sit through an awkward meal with the royal family."
He dropped onto the velvet couch with casual grace, swirling a glass of thick, crimson wine—no, blood—in his pale hand. The glass caught the faint glow of the chandelier, making the liquid shimmer like garnets. His silver eyes glinted through the shadows, cutting through the dimness of the royal chambers like moonlight through fog.
Damier lay sprawled on his bed, one arm resting across his forehead, his eyes narrowed with quiet annoyance. "And you planned that ridiculous marriage proposal with Ravena."
Azelar chuckled lowly, the sound smooth and slow. "Of course not... but it's a delicious idea, isn't it? You'll get more time with her. Maybe she'll start to remember—unlock more of what's buried inside her. She's not just Ravena. She's Virelda."
Damier turned his face toward him, the tension in his jaw obvious. "I don't think she wants that. She doesn't want to remember. And I… I don't know if I can tell her. Not yet. I won't let her drown in that pain again."
Azelar studied him for a long moment, sipping from his glass before leaning back, resting his booted foot on the armrest. "You have to tell her, Damier. You've searched across centuries for her. Fought wars. Broken realms. She's here now. In front of you. Are you really going to waste the chance fate handed you? Just agree to the marriage—even if it's with that spineless vampire king. It'll give you time."
"She'll hate me for it," Damier muttered, fingers curling into the sheets. "This Ravena… she's not Virelda. Virelda was soft. Gentle. She trusted easily. But this Ravena—she's fire. Wild. She doesn't want to be tamed, and I…" His voice dropped. "I don't want to break her."
"Then don't," Azelar said, his voice turning thoughtful. "But don't underestimate her either. Power like hers doesn't sleep forever. And when she remembers… she might not just remember you."
Damier looked away, his throat tightening.
Azelar tilted his head, his grin returning. "So... have you told your parents? Because I can guarantee they're sharpening their claws as we speak. The king is furious. Apparently, you've ignored three summons."
"I don't care what they think."
"Ah yes, the rebellious son of darkness." Azelar smirked. "But let me remind you, they never wanted you to be here, Damier. They've been bothering me nonstop. Asking me to convince you, as if I'm your babysitter."
He mimicked their whining tone mockingly. "'Azelar, change his mind, please. He's throwing away his legacy over a mortal girl.'" He downed his wine with a sigh. "I told them: I can't change the mind of a man obsessed with the only girl he can't live without."
Damier smirked slightly. "And because of me, you're stuck here, surrounded by vampires and self-righteous nobles."
"You're the one who dragged me into this courtly mess. Don't try to blame it on me," Azelar shot back. "You're the one chasing doomed love stories through reincarnations."
"You're the high elder of the ancient blood," Damier muttered. "You could vanish with a whisper. Yet you're still here."
Azelar paused. Then, with a lazy shrug, "Maybe I'm curious how this all ends. Or maybe I just enjoy watching you squirm."
His grin returned, wolfish this time. "Now, enough moping. Do you have any ladies in this castle? I want to taste something new. My menu's gotten… dull."
Damier rolled his eyes, sitting up. "What about going out? There's always something interesting in the lower city."
Azelar raised a brow, clearly intrigued. "Oh? Hunting under moonlight like old times?"
Damier stood, brushing a hand through his dark hair. "Let's go. Maybe you'll find something that actually entertains you."
Azelar's silver eyes lit up. "Of course, Damier."
He drained his glass, set it down with elegance, and followed the prince into the night.
Outside, the moon hung low, a quiet witness to the secrets that bound them—and the storm that was coming.