Silk and Venom
Vanella had barely turned into the corridor leading away from the throne room when she nearly collided with someone.
She stumbled back a step, breath uneven, her face still warm — flushed from embarrassment she had no name for.
The woman before her was stunning.
Tall, draped in layered silk the color of molten gold, jewels resting with practiced elegance against her collarbone. Her hair was arranged immaculately, her posture screaming nobility without the need for words.
Vanella straightened immediately.
Before she could lower herself into a bow, she noticed it — the woman's eyes.
They were burning.
Rage flickered there, raw and volatile, before vanishing beneath a perfectly trained smile.
"Servant," the woman said sweetly. "Where may I find the king?"
Vanella's spine stiffened. She lowered her head respectfully.
"My lady," she replied calmly, "I can show you the way."
The woman studied her then — slowly, deliberately — as if weighing her worth.
"And your name?"
"Vanella."
The smile widened.
"Oh," the woman said softly. "So you are the king's royal servant."
Vanella did not miss the emphasis.
"The one living in the room meant for me in the future."
The words struck deeper than Vanella expected.
Her breath faltered — just for a heartbeat.
His woman?
Then why had he—
No.
Vanella steadied herself instantly, schooling her face into polite neutrality.
"I apologize if there has been any misunderstanding, my lady," she said evenly. "I serve there on the king's orders. If there are questions regarding accommodations, the king would be the proper person to address them."
For the first time, the woman's smile cracked.
Just slightly.
A slave.
Speaking to her like that.
"How dare you?" the woman hissed, her voice dropping all sweetness.
The sound of silk moving was the only warning Vanella had before—
Smack.
Pain exploded across her cheek.
The corridor seemed to freeze.
Vanella's head turned with the force of it, her vision blurring for a split second.
Slowly, she turned back.
Her eyes were no longer polite.
They were cold.
Without hesitation, without a word—
Smack.
The sound echoed louder than the first.
The woman staggered half a step back, eyes wide with disbelief.
"You—!" she gasped.
But before she could finish—
The air changed.
It wasn't visible.
It wasn't loud.
But it was heavy.
The torches along the corridor flickered violently, flames bending inward as though bowing to an unseen force. The temperature dropped, sharp and sudden.
Vanella felt it immediately.
That pressure.
That presence.
Her stomach sank.
Behind them, footsteps sounded — slow, deliberate.
Dangerously familiar.
The woman recovered first, lifting her chin, fury barely restrained as she turned toward the approaching presence.
Vanella did not.
She knew.
She had felt him before she ever saw him.
And whatever storm had just been stirred—
It was no longer between two women.
It now belonged to the king.