Aurelia, dressed in white silk that clung softly to her form, her hair neatly tied, lips polished with care, made her way to his room. Every step was measured, her heart beating faster with each one.
But as she reached the door, two guards stepped forward, blocking her path.
"I'm sorry, my lady," one said, bowing slightly, "but Lord Tenebrarum is not in his chamber. You cannot enter."
Aurelia's violet eyes narrowed. "Then perhaps you may tell me where he is," she said, her voice steady, though curiosity and apprehension danced beneath it.
The guard shook his head. "I cannot leave my post, my lady. But I will assign another to escort you to Lord Tenebrarum's drawing room."
Aurelia hesitated only a moment before nodding, a flicker of relief passing through her. Another guard stepped forward, tall and imposing, bowing once before gesturing for her to follow.
As they walked through the quiet corridors, the air seemed heavier, charged with the presence of someone unseen yet always watching. Aurelia's heart pounded in her chest, a mixture of fear, anticipation, and the strange pull she could not deny.
Finally, the doors to the drawing room came into view, carved dark wood reflecting the faint morning light. The guard stepped aside. "Here, my lady. Lord Tenebrarum awaits."
Aurelia drew a steadying breath, her hand reaching for the handle, knowing that whatever lay beyond these doors would change everything.
Aurelia's fingers lingered on the edge of the door as it creaked open, her heart thudding painfully in her chest.
"And who is that!" Tenebrarum's voice cut through the quiet room like steel. He stood near the center, a brush in his hand, flecks of dark paint speckling his clothes.
The room itself seemed alive with shadows, dominated by his recent work: canvases drenched in deep blacks and reds, twisted depictions of Camilla interlaced with dark petals, every stroke violent yet mesmerizing.
Aurelia's eyes darted from one painting to another, each more haunting than the last, until they landed on a single canvas unlike the others—its violet eyes staring back at her, impossibly familiar.
"I said, who is that?" Tenebrarum's sharp tone rang again as he stepped forward, his gaze slicing through the air.
Her breath caught, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of them.
Then, recognition flickered across his masked face. His brush faltered mid-stroke.
"It… it's you," he murmured, voice low but edged with something she couldn't name.
Aurelia swallowed hard, her heart pounding, as the tension between them filled the room.
"I would love to talk to you," she said, her voice trembling slightly.
"Flavia, leave," Tenebrarum snapped, his tone sharp, controlled.
"I woul—"
"Don't you listen?" His voice rose, each word a whip of authority. "Why do you love to disobey everything I say?"
"I cannot go," she shot back, her resolve unshaken. "You plan on killing Sorana."
Tenebrarum turned slowly, his hand clenching into a fist. Anger burned behind his mask, though he fought to contain it. His painted canvases reflected the flickering lamplight, shadows dancing across the dark petals and violent strokes, echoing the storm rising in his chest.
Every instinct screamed at him to crush her defiance—but there was something else, something unmanageable stirring beneath his fury.
He immediately spun, his hand seizing her shoulder and slamming her back against the wall with harsh force.
"Tenebrarum!" she screamed, the sound echoing sharply in the room.
"Leave," he growled, his voice low but deadly.
"No. I cannot. She didn't poison me," Aurelia shot back, her chest heaving, refusing to cower.
"You are a foolish liar," his hand remained firm against her shoulder, pressing her into the cold wall.
"And why do you care? I'm sure she didn't poison me," she said, trying to steady her trembling voice.
"And why should I trust you?" Tenebrarum's eyes, dark behind the mask, bore into hers like twin blades.
Aurelia swallowed, her pulse racing, and lied with the smallest flicker of hesitation in her violet eyes.
"I… poisoned myself."
Her lips betrayed her, the lie sharp in the air—but her violet eyes… they glimmered with the truth of fear, guilt, and something he couldn't name.
The room fell heavy with silence, every heartbeat a drum of tension between them.
Tenebrarum released her abruptly. The sudden absence of his grip sent her swaying, her back still pressed to the wall, breath shallow. He turned away from her as if she were no longer there, his cape whispering against the floor.
"She will be executed," he said coldly, not looking back.
"If she likes it or not."
The words struck harder than his hand had.
Aurelia's knees nearly buckled. "Tenebrarum—"
"Enough." His voice cut through her, sharp and final. "You test my patience far too easily. This matter is finished."
He moved toward the far end of the room, every step deliberate, controlled, as though nothing had shaken him. But she saw it—the tightness in his shoulders, the way his hand curled slowly into a fist at his side.
"You think lies will save her," he continued, voice low. "You think your words hold power here. They do not."
Aurelia pushed herself from the wall, pain flaring through her ribs, her shoulder screaming where he had pinned her. The room swayed, but desperation anchored her feet.
"Please… don't do this," she said, her voice cracking despite every effort to keep it steady. "I promise—anything."
Tenebrarum turned away, already moving for the door.
Panic seized her.
She dropped to her knees before she could think, the silk of her dress whispering against the floor as she lunged forward and caught the edge of his cloak. Her fingers clenched hard, knuckles whitening, as she dragged herself after him.
"Anything, Tenebrarum," she pleaded, pressing her back against the door, blocking his path. "Anything."
He stopped.
Slowly, deliberately, he looked down at her.
From above, she looked fragile—white hair spilling loose, violet eyes shining with unshed tears, breath uneven from pain and fear. Kneeling. Begging. The very position he had seen countless prisoners take before their end.
But this was Aurelia.
And that was the problem.
"Do you know what you're asking for?" he said quietly.
His voice was controlled, too controlled, the kind that came before something broke.
"You swear yourself so easily," he continued, stepping closer. "You offer anything without understanding the cost."
She lifted her face to him, hands still clutching his cloak as if letting go would mean death—not Sorana's, but her own.
"Anything at all," she whispered. "Just don't kill her. Please."
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then his hand came down—not to strike—but to close around her chin, forcing her to look up at him.
"If she lives," he said softly, dangerously, "it will be because you chose her life over your own."
His thumb pressed lightly, a silent warning.
"And once I accept your anything, Aurelia," he murmured, "there will be no escape. Not from me. Not from what I will demand."
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To be continued...