The carriage continued its journey toward the imperial palace, its iron wheels rattling over the cobbled road in a steady rhythm that echoed like a heartbeat beneath the golden sky. Outside, the sun had begun its descent, casting streaks of crimson and amber across the horizon. The light poured through the narrow windows of the carriage, painting the polished wood in molten hues, gilding every edge with fire. Yet despite the beauty of the sunset, Serenya's attention was hopelessly tethered to the man sitting opposite her.
Zareth sat reclined, his long frame at ease, eyes seemingly closed , but Serenya knew better. His presence filled the carriage like a storm waiting to break. Even with his lids lowered, she could feel the weight of him pressing against her senses, a magnetic force that made the air itself tremble. The faint flicker of torchlight from the streets outside slid across his sharp cheekbones, gilding his raven hair and the curve of his lips in light that seemed designed to worship him.
She turned quickly to the window, forcing herself to watch the blur of rooftops and spires rushing past. Anything, anything, to stop her racing heart. But the truth was merciless: nothing could distract her from him.
Her gaze betrayed her at last. She stole another glance ,only to be caught. His lips curled into a crooked smile, wicked and knowing, his eyes no longer closed but fixed on her with unnerving sharpness. That stare burned straight through her, molten amber threaded with shadows, pulling every secret thought from her soul.
"I'm curious," Zareth drawled, his voice low and velvet, threaded with that teasing cruelty he wore like a crown. His gaze flickered briefly to her neck before lifting to her eyes, his smile deepening as if savoring her quickened breath. "What you and your sister talked about."
Serenya pursed her lips
"We just talked about how everything was in Vayrana," she said carefully, her voice quieter than she intended. She didn't dare mention the humiliating, hurtful things her sister had said . Those words were too raw. Cruel.
Zareth's eyes narrowed, a flash of amusement sparking like steel in a flame. "Just that?" His tone sliced, a dangerous edge beneath its laziness. "I expected something better. Provided you haven't met for almost a month."
Serenya's fingers tightened around the fabric of her dress, knuckles whitening as she turned her face back to the window. The streets blurred before her eyes, not because of their speed but because she was blinking back the sting of her sister's words.
"Elarynth is still bitter," she admitted softly, her voice trembling just a little. "Bitter from the lashes she received at the palace when she came here. She still thinks it's my fault."
The admission scraped her chest raw. The memory of her sister's anger was heavier than the whip marks themselves. Serenya clung to the good memories the laughter they once shared, the bond of childhood because the alternative was unbearable.
Before the ache could take her completely, Zareth's voice cut through, smooth and merciless. "There's no need to look so sad." He flicked his tongue across one fang, the glint catching the last shard of sunlight. "It's better to rid yourself of people like that before the vice versa."
Serenya's frown deepened, her innocence pricking with indignation. "It wouldn't have happened if you hadn't ordered her to be whipped," she said, sharper than she intended. The words trembled in the air like a challenge, but she didn't pull them back. If Zareth hadn't been so ruthless, maybe none of this would have happened.
His laughter was soft, dangerously amused. "One thing I hate," Zareth murmured, leaning forward so that the shadows of the carriage drew his face into sharper relief, "is lies. And your sister wanted to claim something that is yours. Something that belongs to you." His lips curved into a smile both arrogant and possessive. "Which I could never accept."
Her breath hitched when his eyes locked on hers, molten with a claim he made without hesitation.
"You're my one and only little dove," he continued, brushing his hand lazily through his dark hair, his smile stretching crooked. "And I wouldn't have it another way. In fact…" His gaze gleamed with cruel humor. "On second thought, I think I should have beheaded her."
"You—!" Serenya's voice caught between outrage and disbelief. Her cheeks flushed hot. "There are far better ways to deal with things than that!" She nearly stamped her foot like a child, glaring at him with a mixture of fury and helplessness.
Zareth only leaned closer, elbows resting on his knees, studying her as though she were a puzzle he relished tearing apart. "You're actually adorable when you're angry," he purred, his tone deliberately soft to mock her outrage. "Don't worry. I love the way I deal with things. It keeps life… interesting."
Her lips parted, but she had no rebuttal that wouldn't give him more satisfaction. So she closed her eyes tightly, choosing silence as her shield.
But silence did not protect her.
When she opened her eyes again, she found his gaze already on her, searing hot, unapologetically consuming. The heat of it spread across her skin like flame, drawing color to her cheeks until she wanted to hide her face in her hands.
She turned desperately to the window, praying he would look away. But of course he didn't. He never did. To Zareth, she was prey caught in his clawed hand—and he enjoyed every shiver she gave him.
"You're a very beautiful woman, Serenya . Have I told you that before?," he murmured, his voice husky, his smile curved like a blade. "I could stare at you all day and never tire. That's how much you affect me."
Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs. She turned to him, cheeks burning hotter than the sunset blazing behind the carriage. "Thank you," she whispered, unsure what else to say, uncertain how to handle such direct words. And yet, beneath her nervousness, she felt a warmth blooming , a slow, dangerous softening she didn't even notice herself.
Zareth noticed. Of course he did. His smile widened, crooked and smug, pleased with the crack in her walls.
To escape his stare, she grasped for another subject. "You always talk about your mother," she said softly, trying to sound curious instead of flustered. "But what about your father , the late Emperor?"
His tongue ran across his lips, the motion slow, deliberate, meant to draw her eyes to his mouth. And it worked. His gaze slid from her chest back up to her face, lingering there as he spoke.
"That's because he died quite early," he said, voice deceptively casual. "When I was still young."
Serenya's throat tightened as her gaze , traitorous—followed the path of his lips. Her breath left her in a hush. "But… I thought vampires don't die that easily. And as a royal, he couldn't have died by decay."
The left corner of Zareth's lips curled upward, relishing some twisted memory. "He fell down from a cliff."
Serenya blinked, startled, the explanation so absurd she almost thought he was joking. But his tone was too calm. Too deliberate. "I… I'm sorry for your loss," she whispered quickly, sincerity lacing her words.
Zareth's chuckle was low and dark, curling around her spine like smoke. "Don't be. My mother pushed him." He leaned back lazily, tilting his head as his eyes gleamed with reverence. "She was quite a lovely woman, wasn't she?"
Serenya's eyes widened, shock painting her features. His words settled over her like ice, both incomprehensible and terrifying. And yet, when she saw the wicked gleam of his smile, she realized he enjoyed her disbelief. He wanted her to drown in it.
Her lips parted, searching for a response. Finally, she forced herself to nod, her voice unsteady. "Y-yes… I'm sure she was."
What a twisted woman she was , Serenya thought looking out the window.
Zareth smirked, his gaze devouring her hesitation, his satisfaction evident.