CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
29
Xul
Do you know what is more agonizing and enthralling? Her. And watching the very woman I yearn to condemn, torture me with her… everything.
Elara visibly wilted under my scrutiny, her fingers nervously twisting the bangles on her right wrist.
I know Elara. She’s the kind of woman who thrives on defiance, who meets my gaze head-on. But ever since our… history, she’s done her utmost to shut me out, to avoid my presence.
Our relationship is a tapestry woven with threads of time, a narrative so intricate it’s torturous to unravel.
Everything about Elara is a torment to me, yet I’m a master at masking the hurt.
It shattered me into a million pieces when she cut me off, when she ended things, when she avoided me, when she ran from me, when she disobeyed me. Elara hurt me. She ignited a fire within me, but she also inflicted the deepest wounds.
It’s been a long time since Elara and I truly spoke. Our conversations are now limited to her forced, saccharine greeting, “A wonderful day, Prince Xul,” which always seems to leave a bitter taste on her tongue.
I still remember everything – the timbre of her voice, the way her dimples appear when she smiles, the way she takes a sip of water under my gaze, the way she composes herself to obey, knowing my brothers are ever-present and she doesn’t want to appear disrespectful. I knew it all. I also knew when she practiced witchcraft without her mother’s knowledge, I knew her desires, her goals, her principles, the very core of her being. I knew it all.
My gaze, fixed on Elara, had rendered me deaf to her mother’s words. Lost in the contemplation of this shy, composed Elara, so different from the boisterous or sullen versions I’d witnessed before, I barely registered Emilia’s initial attempts at explanation.
As Emilia’s voice continued, I forced my attention back to her. “...Elara can be quite moody at times, Master Xul. I assure you, whatever she said or did...”
“Based on her mood,” I interjected curtly, cutting her off before she could finish.
Emilia’s voice faltered. “Well, Elara was... very... um...” She hesitated, shrinking under my scrutiny. “Drunk.”
Drunk? Elara? The urge to break character and laugh was almost overwhelming. I knew Elara. She barely touched alcohol, let alone drank to the point of intoxication. Emilia’s lie was as transparent as glass, but I played along. It was a desperate attempt to shield her daughter from my wrath, and as her master, I knew that no one, not even Emilia, could escape my wrath.
I knew Emilia was a terrible liar. It wasn’t a matter of words or gestures; it was a subtle shift in the air, a tremor in the silence that preceded the lie. I could sense it before it was uttered, before it even formed in her mind. It was part of my power, and she knew it.
Knowing she couldn’t deceive me, she nudged Elara, who stood behind her, just to avoid my gaze. Elara, in turn, understood the silent message her mother was trying to send.
She sighed dramatically. “Well, my mom is right,” she said. “I was drunk, and what I said or did to you was probably… out of me being drunk. Yes, drunk!”
Elara, too, knew how to lie, though I could still detect the flimsiness of her words.
She continued, “...and that’s why I’ve wholeheartedly...” Wholeheartedly? It didn’t ring true, not from the Elara I knew. “...come to say...” she swallowed, finally lifting her gaze from her wrist to meet mine. But she couldn’t hold eye contact, struggling to utter the words her mother must have forced upon her. “...sorry!” she finally blurted out, another sigh escaping her lips. “I apologize for how I acted earlier, and I promise it won’t happen again.”
“Hm!” I let out a low rumble, the sound escaping my lips involuntarily. I knew how much it cost her to say those words to me. Emilia simply wanted me to retract my banishment of her daughter, knowing it would inevitably affect her as well.
She knew me as someone quick to forgive, but equally dangerous when dispensing punishment and finalizing destinies.
This wasn’t the first time she’d witnessed my banishment; I’d once banished a witch from the council who attempted to forge a new spell without proper consultation. For her transgression, she was stripped of her magic and knowledge, her fate far more gruesome than mere banishment. To reveal its true nature would shake you to your core and shatter your perception of me.
So, in truth, Emilia didn’t fear punishment for her daughter, she understood there was a deeper truth beyond banishment, a chilling reality Elara remained blissfully unaware of.
Instead of acknowledging Elara’s forced apology, I chose a different tack. “You don’t drink, Elara,” I stated, my voice a low rumble. “And you weren’t drunk.” Both mother and daughter exchanged a furtive glance, Emilia’s gaze betraying her growing nervousness.
“Um... well, I did have a drink...” she stammered.
“You haven’t touched any alcohol today,” I cut her off, my voice a rumble that shattered her lie. She hadn’t expected me to call her bluff so directly.
“You don’t know me enough to say that!” Her whispered words are like a taunt, a reminder of what could have been. Fuck it. I know her better than she knows herself. She was mine, destined to be my queen. But she rejected me, the Vimic’s, and everything we could have been.
“Well, you don’t know that,” she snapped, her composure slipping for a fleeting moment before she reined it back in. “What I meant to say is that I’m quite private when it comes to indulging in alcohol, without needing to announce it to the world.”
“And private enough to sneak out into the mundane world, too,” I added, my words almost pushing her over the edge, but she managed to hold her composure.
“And for that, I apologize. I understand I was wrong to leave the Vimic estate without informing anyone, and for that, I am deeply sorry, again,” Elara said, her words forced, mirroring the rigidity of her smile. Who did she think she was fooling?
Part of me wanted to revoke my words, to pardon her from this so-called ‘banishment.’ After all, banishing Elara would be a loss for me. I’d only spoken out of… vexation. She’d angered me, but now, I found myself wanting to inflict the most ridiculous punishments imaginable upon her.
All eyes were on me, waiting for my next move. My brothers. Elara. Emilia. But mostly, Elara.
“Apologies won’t suffice,” I said. There was one thing I couldn’t accept from Elara, and that was her apologies. They always rang hollow, false, and utterly ineffective.
Elara’s chin jutted out in confusion. “Like…?”
“Think outside the box, Elara. You’re good at that. Your current form of ‘apology’ doesn’t move me in the slightest. So, say something else… or do something else.” I amended my words, a man of action, not words. I rarely spoke, rarely these days.
Her confusion only deepened. “But I...”
“You know what to do,” I interjected, my voice steely. “Brainstorm, Elara. I don’t need words, I need actions.”
My words only made her shrink further back behind her mother’s protective form, hiding her face. Perhaps she thought it was time for Emilia to intervene, to plead her case.
Emilia, however, simply asked, “What should Elara do, Master Xul, to prove the sincerity of her words?”
“As Elara not only disrespected me in front of my own brothers,” I said, my voice tightening, “I believe she should act like she truly means her apology, instead of hiding behind you, Emilia.”
Every time I tried to catch a glimpse of her slender frame, she would retreat further behind her mother, effectively shielding herself from my view.
This newfound shyness and nervousness, which seemed to have sprung up overnight, grated on my nerves with an impatient intensity.
Emilia muttered a word for Elara to step forward, which she did reluctantly with a sigh.
“Now what...?” I could practically hear the murmur of complaint beneath her breath. Even the way she breathed seemed to convey her reluctance, her lack of desire to be here as much as I, but with no choice in the matter. As if she never had.
Having caught her muttered words, even though they weren’t fully directed at me, I interjected, “Now...” I trailed off, noticing the way she clutched the bangles on her right wrist, her desperation to remove it evident, even though it wouldn’t budge. Freakish hell, I was getting distracted. By her.
Jolting myself back to the present, I continued, “Now, Elara...” I began again, “Prove to me that you truly mean your ‘apology.’“
My words were cryptic, almost impossibly so, yet they held enough power to confuse even the sharp Elara.
“And what does ‘proving my apology to you’ even mean?” she finally asked, the frustration simmering beneath her eyes barely contained.
“I thought you were a ‘thinker,’ Elara,” I said, stalling for time before my actual response.
She let out a stifled laugh, a sound that was more like a snort. “A thinker, huh? You’re only making me more confused. What else do you want me to ‘prove’ to you? That my apology is sincere, that what I’m saying is real?” she snapped, almost regaining her composure, but then she noticed my mother and brothers watching. Shame washed over her again, and she lowered her head.
“That’s because what you’re saying isn’t real,” I cut in, addressing her words directly.
“Should I apologize to your brothers then? It’s not just you I’ve offended, you know, and the witches’ council too?” Elara countered, trying to play the victim card. She still didn’t understand what I meant when I said she needed to prove her words, not just say them.
But right now, they didn’t matter. Only what was happening between us that mattered. When she didn’t get a response, she assumed she should apologize to my brothers. She turned towards them, addressing each one individually.
“Oh, wonderful Princes of Sin,” she began, “My lovely and ‘only’ master, Prince Aric...” I couldn’t help but notice the emphasis she placed on the word “only,” a personal touch that never failed to amuse me. Elara always had a way of stirring the pot.
“Prince Viktor...” she continued, but Viktor was too engrossed in his meal to pay much attention.
“Prince Cassian, Prince Vorax, Prince Malek, Prince Rafael...” she listed, “I’m sorry for my actions. If you can be kind enough, which I’m sure you are, to forgive poor Elara Vance, who has already been through enough hell from her mother!” she pleaded, trying to sway them with her puppy dog eyes. One thing was for sure, Elara had a charm that worked on my brothers, except for Viktor, of course. After Elara’s near-exposure of him to Draven, their relationship had never fully recovered.
Aric offered a nonchalant shrug, as if Elara’s actions barely registered with him. Cassian, however, darted a quick glance at me, seemingly seeking confirmation on whether to acknowledge her apology. I kept my face impassive, offering no response. He cleared his throat, then addressed Elara, his gaze still flickering towards me. “Well, I can’t stay mad at you, Elara, because you and my brother are...” he trailed off, his frustration evident. What the hell? Couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut about Elara and our history?
I shot him a withering glare, and he immediately clamped his lips shut, fear flickering in his eyes. All my brothers feared me, though not to the same extent as they did Draven.
Draven could unleash chaos upon them, while they sought salvation in me. I was their anchor, the only one who could stand toe-to-toe with Draven. We never spoke, and I rarely attended the meetings he held with the others.
They jumped at his every summons, desperate for his attention, but I wasn’t so easily swayed. I never went. I rarely went. Rarely.
As Cassian’s gaze drifted away, mine swept over Elara’s slender form. She was dressed in a traditional blue gown, the long, flowing fabric trailing down her legs in a mesmerizing zigzag pattern.
The gown was high-necked, cinched at the waist with a black belt, and the sleeves, presumably long, were pushed up to reveal her arms.
Her hair, as usual, was a mess of short, unruly strands that barely brushed her shoulders. My eyes lingered on the partial glimpse of her exposed skin.
Elara, ever the enigma, seemed to favor concealing attire, often appearing deliberately unassuming.
Yet, beneath the layers, her body was a symphony of curves – pointed breasts, a rounded backside, a figure that whispered of seduction.
Fuck.
She attempted to hide her allure, but it was a futile effort.
Her beauty had never escaped my notice, and it never would.
Sensing my gaze, Elara instinctively reached up to cover the exposed portion of her shoulder, as if to shield herself from my desire. The truth was, I craved her. Every. Single. Time.
With a sigh, Elara finally met my gaze. “So...?” she began, tapping her fingers together almost impatiently. “Is this enough ‘proof’ for you that I genuinely meant my apology?”
It was clear she still didn’t understand. I needed more than words to convince me of her sincerity. Her offer to apologize to my brothers wasn’t the answer I was looking for. “Or am I missing something entirely...?”
A beat of silence followed before I spoke. “You’re missing everything entirely.”
“But I did what you asked,” she protested. “I apologized.”
“I never asked you to apologize, Elara.”
I could see my words were getting under her skin. Finally, she snapped. “What more do you want?”
“To serve your punishment, Elara,” I replied, my voice laced with cruelty. “No amount of begging or your version of an ‘apology’ will change that.”
She always ran from consequences, and it was time she faced them. “You’re always one to run away from punishments, Elara. It’s time you served it.”
“You’re unbeli—” she began, but her mother cut her off before she could say something she’d regret.
“What Elara means to say,” Emilia said to me, her teeth clenched, “is that she’s willing to serve whatever punishment you deem fit, but we both plead for you to lift the banishment.” She then turned to her daughter, her voice tight. “Isn’t that right, Elara?”
Elara pondered for a moment, her gaze dropping from mine with a heated sigh. “Yes,” she finally said.
The raw desperation in Elara’s voice as she pleaded for me to rescind my banishment was palpable.
She needed me to lift the burden, but that was far too simple.
I don’t simply “give” mercy; I offer it. And I only offer it to those who deserve it.
In Elara’s case, however, she teetered on the precipice of deserving my clemency.
I leaned back in the throne chair, my gaze scrutinizing Elara. “What does she offer in return for my mercy?” I asked, the question hanging heavy in the air. Both mother and daughter exchanged glances, their eyes meeting in a silent dialogue.
My mercy is sometimes freely given, a gift bestowed without price.
Yet, at other times, it comes with a cost.
If I am to have Elara all to myself, I must utilize the valuable resource that is her time, and my time is precious. Very precious. I need Elara to occupy it with every bearable and unbearable inch of her presence.
To achieve this, I must make sacrifices, and part of that sacrifice involves offering Elara mercy for a price. A significant, expensive, hefty sum, not necessarily in riches, but in her. She is the price.
Elara, my price, in exchange for my clemency.
“What kind of offer, Master Xul?” Emilia dared to ask.
“An offer that involves Elarabeth Vance,” I replied, deliberately using her full name. She loathed it when I did, but I was the only one who could address her in such a manner.
A heavy silence settled over the room, pressing down on us like an invisible hand. It clung to the table, the air, and even seemed to weigh down my brothers. Emilia glanced at Elara, a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, before turning back to me.
“Sure...” she said, accepting my words with a hesitant nod. But Elara’s face remained impassive, though a simmer of annoyance lurked beneath the surface of her honey-colored eyes. I knew what was hidden in those depths, a storm brewing just below the surface.
“Does she accept...?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. Internally, externally, forcefully, every possible way – I could claim her, it was within my reach. Yet, I needed Elara’s own confirmation. It was my perfect brand of invitation, a subtle power play that I relished.
Emilia shrugged, her hand hovering in the air for a moment before she lowered it. “Oh, she definitely accepts, Master Xul—”
“I’m talking about Elarabeth...?” I interrupted, deliberately using her full name to draw a slight flush to her cheeks.
“Um...” Emilia trailed off, nudging Elara forward with a silent plea in her eyes.
Elara’s jaw clenched, her eyes flickering with barely contained annoyance. I could see the struggle within her, the battle between her pride and the knowledge that she had no choice.
I wanted her to say it, to utter those words of invitation, even if she didn’t fully understand the implications.
I wanted her to “let me in” without realizing the power she was handing over.
But Elara was smart, always smart.
Even as she understood my game, she knew she was trapped.
“I accept,” Elara muttered, a frown creasing her forehead. She was terrible at hiding her emotions, especially from me. Perhaps it was the years of observing her, the way her face betrayed her inner turmoil.
“Why don’t you say it with a smile?” I asked, my voice low and dangerous. She swallowed, obedient as always. A forced hint of a smile flickered across her lips, prompting me to add, “And look me in the face while you say it.”
Her head snapped up, her emotions laid bare. Her honey-colored eyes, usually pools of fake innocence, held a flicker of something else, a darker undercurrent. Then, a bright, false smile plastered itself on her face. At least she played that well.
“I accept,” she repeated, her voice strained.
I smirked, a rare occurrence. My smiles were reserved for specific purposes, and those purposes were rarer than hen’s teeth. “Good. I’ll revoke your banishment, Elara.” Relief washed over her face, but it was short-lived. “Accepting on my terms also means… no magic, no spells, nothing.”
Turning to Emilia, whose face reflected a mix of fear and respect, I spoke in a stoic, cold voice. “And that includes you. Under no circumstances are you to remove the bangles from Elara’s wrist without my express permission. Or else...” I trailed off, leaving the unspoken consequences hanging in the air. Emilia knew what the ‘or else’ meant, knew what I was capable of.
I had pardoned Elara, offering her mercy at a price.
A price that would allow me to keep her under control.
And in the process, I had extended her punishment, ruining her plans and tightening the leash.
Elara held no fear or respect for me, unlike my brothers or, more importantly, her mother.
Yet, she always harbored a tremor of apprehension towards the raw power I possessed.
This act of punishment served as a stark reminder that she could adhere to my rules, even while serving Aric. I didn’t give a damn about her allegiance. I could do whatever I pleased with her, and still, not give a damn.
But as everyone knew, I was:
Calm.
Quiet.
Merciful, unlike Draven.
However, if I ever unleashed my wrath, it would leave an indelible mark of terror for a lifetime.
Emilia hesitated for a moment, surprised by my words. “Of course, Master Xul. Elara is now under your watchful eye. I wouldn’t dare to defy you, Master.” She wouldn’t even consider it, and I doubted Elara would either.
“And you,” I directed my words back to Elara, who clearly disliked the prospect of my punishment. Her face betrayed her, and she didn’t even attempt to fully mask it.
Elara, catching the shift in my tone, lowered her head and spoke, “I am indeed grateful for your generous act of mercy and will wholeheartedly serve every punishment you deem necessary, Prince Xul.” Lowering her head in this manner indicated her reluctance to meet my gaze directly.
“Wholeheartedly?” I echoed her words, recalling a similar declaration she’d made before.
“Yes, wholeheartedly and thoughtfully!” she added.
I smirked, sensing Elarabeth’s attempt at manipulation. “Prove it, Elara.” Her breath hitched as she slowly raised her head, battling not to meet my gaze. Her struggle was futile. A dark grin, not fully formed but enough to send shivers down anyone’s spine, stretched across my face.
A flurry of thoughts raced through her mind, almost tangible.
“Now?” she questioned, her eyes attempting to mask an innocence that was unnervingly complete.
I smirked darkly, relishing the idea that flickered across her mind, an idea I so desperately wanted to sink my fangs into.
“Now,” I replied curtly, unexpected for her but effortless for me.