Fourth Arc (Thorns of The Black Throne) - 500. More Dangerous
She continued singing, serene, unaware. No, not unaware. Aware. Watching from the corner of her eye without looking directly at him.
Testing.
The shadows near the courtyard pillars seemed thicker than usual.
Angel's jaw tightened.
Seraphine.
'You are more dangerous than I thought.'
The melody reached a peak.
The crystal inside him pulsed again, but this time he pressed his will against it. Firm. Controlled. He forced it to still.
Slowly.
The echo faded.
His breathing steadied.
Below, Seraphine's song softened into its final notes. The courtyard erupted in polite applause. She bowed slightly.
But her eyes.
They lifted.
And met his.
Across distance.
Across sunlight.
For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to that single line of sight.
She smiled faintly.
Not coy.
Not shy.
Knowing.
Angel lowered his hand from his chest.
So.
That was her move.
Not wards.
Not tonic.
Not shadows.
A song.
He straightened his posture, expression unreadable once more.
If she carried a fragment of the origin.
If her bloodline traced back to the same darkness that birthed the crystal.
Then this was no simple political game.
This was something older.
And far more complicated.
The morning had just become infinitely more dangerous.
Angel stood motionless on the balcony for several seconds after the melody ended.
The courtyard below slowly returned to normal. Servants resumed their work. Guards straightened their posture. Courtiers whispered politely about the queen's beautiful voice.
But Angel barely heard any of it.
His mind was elsewhere.
On the crystal.
On the pulse inside his chest.
On the impossible familiarity woven into Seraphine's song.
The dark crystal inside him had reacted instinctively. Not to magic cast directly at him. Not to a spell.
To resonance.
Which meant the connection ran deeper than ordinary sorcery.
Angel's gaze remained locked on Seraphine below. She stood near the center fountain now, speaking casually to a passing servant as though nothing significant had happened.
But her eyes…
Her eyes kept drifting upward.
Toward him.
Toward the balcony.
Testing.
Measuring.
Curious.
Angel slowly loosened his grip on the railing.
'Then I will read her mind when the time comes,' he thought calmly.
Not now.
Now was too early.
If he pushed too quickly, she would retreat behind layers of caution and performance. Seraphine was not foolish. She had survived this long in Pontus precisely because she understood masks.
So he would wear one too.
Angel straightened his posture and let his expression settle into something carefully neutral.
Not cold.
That was important.
If he looked cold, Seraphine would interpret it as rejection or suspicion.
Instead, he chose unreadable calm.
Something gentler.
Enough to invite uncertainty.
And it worked.
Below, Seraphine's smile remained elegant, but internally she faltered for the first time that morning.
Because she could not read him.
Most men were easy.
Admiration. Lust. Fear. Ego.
Darius especially had always been transparent. His pride practically breathed louder than he did.
But Angel…
Nothing.
No obvious attraction.
No visible hostility.
No reaction she could confidently define.
And that unsettled her more than rejection would have.
Her gaze lingered on him another second too long before she finally looked away.
Interesting.
Angel understood immediately what would happen next.
She would escalate.
Not aggressively.
Subtly.
Closer conversation. Private interaction. More opportunities to observe him directly.
And the timing…
Perfect.
Rose and Jane were not with him.
Darius still slept.
Seraphine would see this as opportunity.
Angel almost sighed.
Predictable.
He stepped back inside the chamber. He exchanged his lighter morning attire for formal royal clothing, dark layered fabric embroidered subtly with silver thread near the cuffs and collar. Clean. Elegant. Controlled.
He adjusted the gloves over his hands, fastened the cloak clasp near his throat, and soon a knock sounded against the door.
Soft.
Measured.
Not servant rhythm.
There it is.
Angel crossed the room calmly and opened the door.
Seraphine stood there.
Morning light framed her silhouette from the corridor behind. Pale silk. Loose hair. Composed expression.
"Good morning," she said warmly.
Angel stepped aside slightly. "Queen Seraphine."
She entered smoothly, gaze drifting briefly around the chamber before returning to him.
"I hope I'm not disturbing you."
"You are not."
The answer came easily.
Seraphine studied him carefully while pretending not to.
No visible tension.
No signs of magical exhaustion.
No trace that her song had affected him.
And yet she knew it had.
>Read the original on webnovel* .com
>Read 10 chapter ahead of DM + 2 weekly update
My Pat*reo*n-page: pat*reon.*com/nanakawaichan
(erase the *)
My ko-fi page: ko-fi.*com/nanakawaichan
My Discord: discord.gg/mSRHyMVhnG