Lucien's POV
Love?
So Adrian is in love.
I almost laughed when the words slipped through my mind. The thought alone felt absurd, the mighty King Adrian, the stoic ruler who never allowed his heart to show, who never once blinked when blood was spilled before him, now undone by that cursed emotion. Love. How poetic. How foolish.
I sat shirtless before the fire, my mother's hands pressing the steaming cloth into my torn flesh. The pain lanced through me, but it was a small price to pay for the news I'd just received.
"Hold still," Duchess Isolde murmured, her voice like silk wrapped around a dagger. Her touch was delicate, but her eyes, those cold, calculating eyes burned with wicked satisfaction. "We've finally gotten a hold of Adrian. He's cracked. His days as king are over."
She smiled then, that slow, sinister smile that turned her beauty into something inhuman. "The fall of a god, my son. The beginning of an empire."
I exhaled, my lips curving. "Of course. It's over."
She dabbed at another wound, and I barely flinched. The heat was nothing compared to the fire in my mind. "It's time," I said softly, "for me to take over."
Her laughter rippled through the room, dark, melodic, powerful. The sound of a woman who had long stopped believing in heaven.
Mother was the kind of woman kingdoms whispered about in fear. The kind who made kings tremble and priests burn their tongues in prayer. Duchess Isolde, the woman who traded her soul long ago for power that never ran dry.
Behind her chambers, in the candlelit catacombs beneath the castle, she performed her rituals, sacrifices to a god whose name even demons feared to utter.
Vareth, the Devourer of Light. A god of shadows, of old blood, and whispered promises. I had watched her once, years ago, as she slit a man's throat over a bowl carved from obsidian, chanting in that dead tongue as his lifeblood spilled. His screams never reached the surface.
It horrified me then.
Now, I understood it.
Power required a price and Mother had always been willing to pay it.
"Vareth has smiled upon you, my son," she said, lifting her chin proudly. "He spared you when that mongrel wolf nearly tore you apart."
Indeed, if not for her, I would have died last night. Damien's rage had nearly consumed me, his claws inches from my throat. But Mother had arrived in time, her magic burning through the battlefield, the smell of sulfur, the screams, the flash of darkness swallowing everything.
When I woke, I wasn't dead. I was reborn.
And now, I carried a new poison, not in my veins, but in my purpose.
This time, I will not miss.
When I had returned to the battlefield where Damien had fallen, he was gone. No corpse. No trace. My jaw clenched. The bastard had escaped. I had wanted to plunge the dagger straight through his heart, to see the light fade from his eyes, but fate denied me that satisfaction.
So I crept back into the palace, quiet as the smoke that still clung to my clothes. I remember the sound before I saw them.
A voice. Broken. Shaking.
"I love you, Damien," Adrian had said, kneeling beside his enemy. His voice cracked under the weight of it. "I always have."
I froze. For a moment, I thought my wounds had driven me mad. But no, there he was. The vampire king himself, weeping like a human child, clutching the hand of a wolf.
The great Adrian, a king, destroyed by love.
I almost laughed. Almost.
The image burned itself into my mind, the tears, the trembling, the betrayal. And I knew, right then, the gods had chosen their new favorite. Me.
Two kingdoms, one heart. Break that heart, and both would crumble.
Perfect.
A low laugh escaped my throat as I thought of it again. I must've laughed too loudly, because my stepfather, Lord Valerius, appeared in the doorway, his expression a mix of disgust and confusion.
"What's so amusing, boy?" he asked, voice thick with disdain.
I rose slowly from my chair, straightening my coat, my hands clasped neatly behind my back. "Everything," I said simply. "Everything has become amusing."
Valerius frowned. "You're speaking in riddles again."
"Riddles keep the weak confused," I replied, my tone calm, polite, the tone of a man sharpening his blade while discussing the weather. "And confusion, my dear father, is the perfect weapon."
Mother chuckled from her seat. "Do not lose yourself in your little games, Lucien. Remember the big picture."
I turned to her, smiling with quiet reverence. "Oh, Mother. The big picture is all I see. It's slowly coming into focus."
I bowed low, the image of civility but my eyes gleamed like a predator's. "If you'll excuse me," I said, "I have somewhere i need to be."
The palace corridors reeked of iron and death. The servants were dragging bodies, vampires, wolves, men, women, all reduced to the same lifeless stillness. The floor was slick with blood. I stepped over it carefully, my boots leaving faint imprints on the marble.
War was always ugly, but it was also… beautiful.
Because death had a way of cleansing the world of weakness.
I ascended the grand staircase toward Adrian's chambers. The doors opened just as I reached them and there he was.
The king himself.
The man who had once commanded armies with a word.
He looked older now, paler, wearier. But the fire in his eyes still burned, a stubborn flame refusing to die.
Our gazes locked. I smiled, polite, respectful, venomous. I bowed.
"My king," I said smoothly. "Heading somewhere?"
He regarded me coldly. "Yes. I was just about to summon the council. We need to act. The wolf kingdom grows restless, we must negotiate peace before this chaos consumes us all."
Peace. The word tasted like rot in my mouth.
I tilted my head. "Peace, my king? After they nearly tore you apart?"
Adrian's eyes hardened. "I am not guided by vengeance, Lucien. I am guided by duty. You would do well to remember that."
A small laugh escaped me before I could stop it. "Oh, I remember my duty, sire. Perhaps better than you."
He turned sharply. "What did you just say?"
I stepped closer, lowering my voice so only he could hear. "I said… perhaps it's time someone else handled the affairs of this palace."
The silence between us thickened, sharp enough to cut.
"Watch your tongue," he warned. "You forget your place."
"No," I whispered, leaning close. "You forget yours."
His face twisted in fury. "You dare..."
"Unless," I cut in smoothly, "you'd prefer I tell the council about your… little secret."
He froze.
The fury drained from his face, replaced by something fragile. His lips parted slightly, the question dying before he could speak it.
"I heard everything," I continued softly. "The confession. The tears. The love."
Adrian's jaw tightened. "You have no proof."
"Perhaps not," I said, turning away with a smirk. "But proof is a fragile thing. All it takes is a whisper. A rumor. And your entire legacy burns."
He didn't move. Didn't breathe. The almighty king Adrian silenced by his own shame.
I paused at the doorway and glanced back, smiling. "You'll see soon enough, my king. The game has only just begun."
And with that, I left him standing there alone, drowning in his silence.
As I walked down the corridor, I could feel it, the pulse of something vast and dark rising within me. The taste of power.
Vareth's whispers echoed faintly in my mind, sweet and cold, Consume the weak. Devour the throne. Let their love destroy them.
I smiled.
"Don't worry, my lord," I whispered to the shadows. "I plan to."