Aurelia left the grand hall, desperate for air, her chest heaving as if she had run a hundred paces. Sorana's soft voice followed her, "Are you alright, my lady?" but Aurelia didn't answer, her focus sharp, every breath shallow and quick.
The corridor ahead was dim, the glow from the chandeliers fading behind her, and as she moved, three girls stepped from the shadows. Their eyes gleamed with malice.
"You… slut!" one hissed, voice venomous, cutting through the quiet like a dagger.
Aurelia froze, every muscle taut, her heart pounding as the words hit her like stones. She didn't speak. She wouldn't. She only let her eyes narrow, calculating, ready for whatever came next.
"Weren't you ashamed, a worthless human trying to take the place of Princess Camilla?" one of the girls sneered, stepping closer, their voices sharp and cruel.
"She's a fool," the other added, laughter dripping with venom.
Sorana's eyes flared, her steps quickening as she moved to intercept them. "You don't have the right to talk to her like that!"
But before Sorana could reach Aurelia, she was gone. The space where she had been standing was empty, and a chill ran through Sorana as her eyes darted around.
"Where is she?" Sorana whispered, her voice tense, scanning the dimly lit corridor for any sign of her lady.
Aurelia's steps were silent, deliberate, pressing against the shadows as she moved farther away, keeping her anger coiled and her mind sharp.
Every fiber of her being screamed to strike back, to make them regret underestimating her—but for now, she stayed hidden, watching, calculating, her heart still burning with fury.
She walked deeper into the palace, finally free from Tenebrarum, Sorana, Camilla, everyone. The further she went, the more the palace seemed to stretch, endless corridors and towering halls that made her feel smaller, insignificant. She couldn't stop, didn't dare.
She kept going until the music faded behind her, swallowed by distance.
A half-open door caught her eye. Without thinking, her body slipped inside, breathless. She closed it quietly behind her, leaning against the smooth wood, eyes shut, trying to steady her racing heart.
Then she saw the painting: a single flower surrounded by thorns. The image spoke to her, reflected her suffering more clearly than any mirror could.
But it wasn't the painting that made her shiver first—it was the scent. Spiced leather. Steel. Smoke. And something darker, something alive, something watching. Not perfume. A presence.
She turned.
And froze.
The room was vast, lined with shadowed bookshelves and racks of weapons. A desk cluttered with maps and ancient scrolls sat beneath a blood-red tapestry that draped the far wall. And by the open window—stood a dark creature.
Tall.
Kaelen turned fully, and she saw him.
His bare chest bore scars, silent reminders of battles fought and stories untold. Pale lines traced the muscles beneath his skin, whispering of strength hidden beneath calm. Dark trousers hung low on his hips, and bare feet pressed lightly against the marble floor. Sliver hair fell in a loose cascade over eyes like storm-tossed oceans, heavy with emotion she couldn't read. He was without armor, without crown—just raw, dangerous presence.
Silence stretched between them.
For a moment, Kaelen only stared, his expression unreadable, gaze sharp as a half-drawn blade.
Then his face twisted—disgust, annoyance, contempt.
"Get out."
His voice was low, clipped, each word like a whip. Her presence offended him.
Aurelia froze, throat tightening. She couldn't speak, couldn't move—not under the weight of his gaze, the intensity of his judgment. She felt like something foreign, something that had trespassed into his world, a stain on his air.
He stepped closer, deliberate, slow.
"I don't let slaves into my room," he said flatly.
And then he saw them.
Her eyes.
Violet.
Her red dress shouted for attention, clinging to her waist, tracing the line of her body, highlighting her lips, her posture, every curve—every inch of her screamed for notice. And it struck him, an urge that was unnatural, foreign, one he had never felt, twisting low in his chest.
She stared up at him, wide-eyed, fear evident—but something else too, a softness, a vulnerability he couldn't name, and it unsettled him.
His breath stilled. That mocking disgust, the sharp edge in his gaze, flickered—shifted, almost imperceptibly.
He didn't move. Didn't speak.
Aurelia felt her cheeks burn, heat rushing through her as if the room itself had shrunk around them. She turned away suddenly, sharply, as though the sight of him had seared her.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, voice trembling, reaching for the door. "I didn't know… I wasn't trying to—"
"You shouldn't be here," he said again. But this time it lacked the bite of command, the cruelty of dismissal. It sounded different. A warning, maybe. Or perhaps a confession, barely held back.
And still, he didn't take his eyes off her.
Not even as she slipped through the doorway.
Not even as the door clicked closed between them.
The silence left behind was heavy, charged, leaving her heart pounding, leaving him… unreadable.
Kaelen remained where she had vanished, chest tight, every muscle coiled like a spring ready to snap.
Her image burned behind his eyelids—the curve of her waist, the sharp flash of her violet eyes, the red of her dress screaming against the shadows of the room.
He wanted to taste every part of her.
He couldn't stop seeing her, couldn't stop wanting, and that thought made his pulse surge in ways that both thrilled and frightened him.
She had walked in, unguarded, and ignited something in him he didn't know existed.
Something raw, almost violent, that whispered of touch, of possession, of hunger. Every instinct told him to reach for her, to pull her close and claim what the world had no right to offer—but restraint held him, thin as a blade, cutting deeper than any desire could.
She had attracted the wrong person.
Kaelen's body ached with the memory of her presence, her beauty, the subtle softness beneath her fear. Every part of him burned for something she hadn't even intended, and the knowledge made his jaw clench until it ached, his fingers curling as if to grasp the air she had filled.
The room was silent now, the red tapestry and scattered maps unmoving witnesses to the storm inside him. He exhaled slowly, trying to calm the heat that wouldn't die, knowing that Aurelia was gone—and yet, she wasn't. Not truly. Not while her image still set fire to every shadow in his chest.
Kaelen's gaze drifted toward the half-open window, wind stirring the drapes, and for a long moment, he stood alone, drowning in her absence, consumed by the unnatural hunger she had awakened, and wondering when—or if—he would ever see her again.
He staggered back a step, hand brushing the edge of the desk for balance, but it did nothing to ground him. Her presence had been too potent, too intoxicating, and even now, in the emptiness of the room, he felt her pressing against him, defying distance, defying reason.
Every thought of her was laced with a dangerous desire, something instinctive and raw, and his mind faltered under it.
The only words he could force from his throat were hushed, trembling, almost desperate.
"Who… is that bitch?"
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To be continued...