Hazel stood before the ornate mirror in her chambers, smoothing the folds of her velvet red dress. The fabric clung to her like a second skin, rich and luxurious, a gift from Primus's vast wardrobe. After a long bath scented with rose petals and lavender, she felt refreshed, though the weight of the day's events still lingered in her mind. A soft knock echoed through the room, and a servant entered.
"My lady, Lord Primus summons you to his study."
Hazel nodded, her heart pounding with a mix of anger and curiosity. She followed the servant through the winding corridors of the ancient castle, torches flickering along the stone walls, casting elongated shadows that danced like secrets.
The study door creaked open to reveal a room bathed in dim, golden light from a single chandelier and a roaring fireplace. Bookshelves towered to the ceiling, filled with leather-bound tomes that whispered of forgotten lore. Behind a massive oak desk sat Primus, his dark hair tousled just enough to enhance his roguish charm. He looked up as she entered, a glorious smile spreading across his face—one that made him seem both triumphant and endearing.
"Have a seat, little rabbit," he said, his voice smooth as aged wine. His eyes gleamed with admiration as they traced her form. "I know you're angry that I've planned our marriage without your consent. But you are my destined wife."
Hazel remained standing for a moment, her arms crossed, though the intensity of his gaze softened her resolve just a fraction. She was clad in the beautiful velvet red dress, its deep hue accentuating her fair skin. Even with only a touch of makeup— a hint of kohl around her eyes and a subtle rose on her lips—she looked like a goddess descended from the heavens.
Finally, she sat in the plush chair opposite him. "What do you know about me?" she demanded, her voice sharp with anger. "Why did you choose me to be your bride, and what makes you think I'll accept?"
Primus leaned back, his smile never fading. "I have much to tell you, my little rabbit, but we must wait until you are fully ready to know who you truly are. For now, I ask only that you comply with the marriage. I promise not to consummate our wedding until you are ready. But if you wish to rush this handsome future husband of yours…" He trailed off with a teasing wink, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
Hazel stared at him, her anger warring with an unexpected pull. His features were striking—sharp jawline, piercing eyes, lips curved in perpetual amusement. I think I should just go with the wedding, she thought, a small smile creeping onto her face without her realizing. I mean, he is cute. Who wouldn't want a cute husband?
Primus watched her with evident amusement, as if he could read her thoughts. "Okay," she said suddenly, standing up. "Keep your promise. I will marry you, but we won't sleep in the same room until I fall in love with you."
She turned to flee the study, her cheeks flushing. "Good night, my lord," she added with a quick bow before slipping out the door.
Primus chuckled softly as the door closed. "Let's see if you won't fall for me, little rabbit," he murmured to the empty room. Then, his expression darkened. "Have you found anything?"
From the shadows near the bookshelf, Lazarus emerged, his figure cloaked in darkness. He bowed deeply. "Yes, my lord. Your cousin was the one behind the attack. I fear history is about to repeat itself."
Primus's laugh echoed coldly through the room, laced with wickedness. "Hahaha, oh, how I've missed my dear cousin." His smirk twisted into something predatory. "I will kill him and his disciples tonight, my lord," Lazarus offered, his voice low and loyal.
"No," Primus replied, waving a hand dismissively. "Let him play his game. This time, I'm really going to play with him. Send in my meal—fresh human."
Lazarus bowed again and vanished into the shadows to carry out the command.
In a dimly lit chamber far from the castle's heart, Tobias paced before a circle of hooded figures. "How dare you fail to carry out a simple order!" he snarled, his voice dripping with fury. "Now I hope he doesn't find out yet that we are behind this."
The rest of the hooded men remained silent, their faces obscured. The oldest among them, a woman with silver-streaked hair peeking from her hood, spoke calmly. "We still need to attend the banquet like nothing happened. That spoilt brat sent us an invite, after all."
Tobias stopped pacing, his eyes narrowing. "Very well. We play along—for now."
That night, as the castle settled into uneasy quiet, Hazel drifted into a troubled sleep. In her dream, she found herself running through a dense forest under a blood-red moon. Her hands clutched a gleaming dagger, slick with crimson. Blood stained her clothes, her skin, dripping warm and accusing. What have I done? What have I done? she cried, tears streaming down her face as branches whipped at her.
"My lady! My lady, please wake up!"
Hazel jolted awake, gasping, her heart thundering in her chest. She was in her bedchamber, safe within the castle walls, not lost in some nightmarish wood. A young servant hovered nearby, concern etched on her face.
"My lady, are you okay?" the servant asked softly.
"I'm okay," Hazel replied, though her voice trembled. She whispered to herself, "Not the same dream again."
The head maiden entered then, efficient and composed. "My lady, you are almost late for breakfast. Lord Primus does not tolerate lateness. And tonight marks the beginning of the banquet—you will be introduced as our future queen. You must be ready."
Hazel nodded, pushing the remnants of the dream aside. "Prepare the bath for the lady," the head maiden commanded the servants.
As warm water filled the tub once more, scented with calming herbs, Hazel stared at her reflection in the steam-fogged mirror. That
recurring nightmare haunted her waking thoughts. Whatever Primus was hiding—and whatever darkness stalked them both—she sensed the true storm was only beginning.