C H A P T E R T E N
C H A P T E R T E N
Altair
“Y ou look like the cat who got the cream.”
Iolas teases, his tone light, but I see his eyes probing, searching for my reaction.
I don’t respond immediately, my mind still half-occupied by the image of Olwyn’s determined expression. Finally, I turn to Iolas. “She wants to be more involved,” I say, a hint of surprise creeping into my voice.
“Hmmm,” he replies, smirking wider. “Didn’t expect that, did we?”
I shake my head, a quiet chuckle escaping my lips. “No… but maybe this is the start of her understanding her place here.” I narrow my eyes thoughtfully. “A way for her to find her purpose.”
“Or a way for her to find out more about why you took her in the first place,” Iolas counters, crossing his arms. “Are you certain this is wise?”
My smile fades slightly, replaced by a contemplative look. “I’ll tell her everything eventually. Until then she deserves some freedom… and if she’s going to stay, she must feel she has a stake in this place.” I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “If that means letting her help with the preparations, so be it.”
Iolas raises an eyebrow. “And what do you think she’ll find? Or what do you want her to find?”
I glance at him, a shadow of a smile playing on my lips. “Perhaps she’ll find that life here isn’t what she’s been taught to believe. Maybe she’ll see that she has a choice… to trust me.”
He nods, but his expression remains cautious. “You think allowing her to get involved will convince her to trust us?”
I shrug. “It’s a start. But—” I take a deep breath, my mind already shifting to the next conversation. A sudden shift in the air catches my attention—a foul stench, like human flesh mixed with sweat. I stop mid-speech, nostrils flaring.
“What is it?” Iolas asks, instantly alert, and lacking the superior senses and magic that I have as king.
I feel my eyes darken, my expression hardening. “Human,” I say, my voice low and tense. “An unfamiliar one. In the palace.”
Iolas’s eyes widen, and he straightens, his hand moving instinctively to the hilt of his sword. “Olwyn,” he breathes.
Without another word, we both burst into action, moving down the corridor. The stench grows stronger, mingling with the faint scent of jasmine that still lingers from Olwyn. Panic grips my chest, my shadows coiling around me like a second skin as I rush toward her chambers.
They are in her room. Rage almost blinds me.
Iolas reaches the door first, slamming it open with a force that sends the wood splintering. I linger behind, aware that she is safe with him there and that if I enter in this form, I will scare her. My body is nothing more than shadow and nightmares, enraged by the fact someone has made it into her chambers, either planning to take her or harm her. I take a breath, forcing the shadows to recede and my normal form to take its place.
“How did you get in here? Who sent you?” Iolas demands, his voice a guttural growl, echoing off the stone walls. A man—a human, foul and unwashed—is clamped in Iolas’s grip, his feet dangling inches from the ground.
The intruder struggles, his face turning red as he claws at Iolas' iron grip, but even in his fear, there’s defiance in his eyes. “You know who,” he chokes out. “Vampire scum.”
I enter and my gaze snaps to Olwyn, who is on the floor, gasping for air, her throat red and bruised. I see her back hit the wall as she scrambles away, her eyes wide with fear.
I step further into the room, and immediately, the temperature drops. My shadows twist and writhe eager to wrap around the man. The air hums with dark energy, crackling with power that I hold effortlessly in check, despite my urge to unleash it.
Iolas drops the man to the floor, stepping back but keeping his muscles coiled, ready to strike again if needed. The shadows inch closer, creeping across the floor. I feel one tendril brush against Olwyn’s ankle, as if curious, seeking her warmth. My eyes, now fully darkened, lock onto the intruder.
“You will speak,” I say, my voice a deadly calm, dripping with menace. “Or you will suffer a fate far worse than death.”
The man shivers, but I see a flicker of rebellion in his eyes, a spark that refuses to die. He spits blood on the floor, his gaze meeting mine with a challenge. “Do your worst,” he rasps. “I will die before I betray my people.”
I step closer, and the room darkens further. The shadows stretch and twist like living things, feeding on the fear emanating from him. I feel Olwyn's fear too, sharp and potent, mingled with something else. I push it from my mind for now. There is a job to do.
“You misunderstand,” I say softly, each word a promise of pain. “Touching her means death is a mercy you will not receive. Not until I have what I want. And not until she says you can be granted peace.”
“You can kill him.”
My heart skips a beat. Clenches painfully in my chest as I hear her say the words. I don’t want to give him that peace. But I hear the bloodlust in her words, even as they sound weak, and I feel almost… proud of her.
The man’s bravado falters, his face paling as he finally understands the gravity of his situation. Iolas moves to kneel by Olwyn’s side, his hand brushing against her neck. I see her wince, and something in me tightens, a deep, protective rage simmering beneath the surface.
“Come on, little witch. You don’t need to see this,” Iolas murmurs gently, wiping away her tears.
This scum made her cry .
Rage seethes within me as I turn on the two guards who enter her room.
“Why didn’t you check her room before she entered?” My voice thunders through the space, vibrating with fury.
The guard’s face drains of colour as he stammers, “Your Majesty, we didn’t think— I’m sorry. We assumed everything was secure.”
My glare sharpens, slicing through his weak excuse. The tension thickens as the guard shifts nervously under my scrutiny and I rein in the urge to lash out further.
Turning my gaze to her, I catch the pain and fear etched in her features, a sight that makes my chest tighten uncomfortably. I look away, a muscle ticking in my cheek. “Take him to the dungeons,” I bark as the guards scramble into action, seizing the man by his arms. “We will continue this conversation there.”
I watch as the guards drag the man from the room. I should have ripped his throat out the moment I entered, but I need to know more. My gaze shifts to Olwyn. She sits there, trembling, touching her bruised throat, her eyes wide and filled with something beyond fear—betrayal, maybe. Confusion. I can't be sure, but I can feel it like a blade twisting in my chest.
I glance at the shattered remains of her wardrobe, splintered wood scattered across the floor like bones, and I feel a fresh wave of rage boiling beneath my skin. My shadows pulse, eager for release, but I force them back. I need to keep my calm, to stay composed, for her.
I move closer, kneeling beside Iolas. The sight of Olwyn's fragile frame, her eyes darting around as if searching for some escape, causes my chest to tighten. Here, in the one place I should have been able to protect her… I have failed. I try to soften my expression, to dim the darkness that always seems to lurk in my gaze. “Where does it hurt?”
She shakes her head, her voice hoarse and strained. “I’ll be fine,” she insists, but I can see the lie in her eyes, the way her fingers still tremble against her throat. The way she doesn’t trust me to comfort her.
My jaw tightens, the shadows in my eyes darkening again. I look at Iolas. “Will you stay with her?”
“Al, maybe you should wait—”
“Will you?” I cut him off, my voice sharp, barely holding back the command. I need him to understand this isn’t negotiable. Not now. I can’t be near her and keep control. I need to release the darkness before I scare her further.
Iolas nods, his jaw clenched, eyes meeting mine with an understanding that goes deeper than words.
I stand, my movements stiff, fighting the urge to destroy something, anything, to let the fury that thrums through me out. I turn to leave, needing distance before I lose control, when I hear her voice, faint but firm.
“He called me princess.” Her voice is a whisper, but it stops me in my tracks. I turn back, meeting her gaze. Her confusion and pain are clear, and it almost ends me.
I force myself to remain composed, though my mind races. Her eyes search mine, desperate for answers. Answers I cannot give her right now.
“Why did a human try to kill me?” Her voice is cracked, strained, but there is a fragility there that I have never heard. I glance at Iolas, and he meets my gaze with a flicker of resignation.
“Because you are no princess. You are a queen,” I say, the words leaving my mouth heavier than I intended.
Her brow furrows in confusion.
“A queen of what? A title and land I didn’t want?” I feel the sting of her words and doubt like a lash across my skin. She doesn't understand, of course. How could she? To her, the title feels like a curse, a burden she never asked for. And yet… she is so much more than she realises, more than she dares to believe.
I turn, my steps deliberate as I leave the room. My chest tightens with every step away from her, my mind already calculating how I will tell her. How I will upend her world again.
A choked sob reaches my ears, and I pause for a moment in the hallway, my fists clenched at my sides. I want to go back, to tell her… tell her what? That I won’t let anyone hurt her? That she isn’t a prisoner here, not truly? But I push the thought away. She needs time. And I need to give her answers.
I can’t help but feel it. A pang of guilt, unexpected and unwelcome, twisting in my chest like a blade. I head for my study, needing a moment to gather myself. I can’t afford to let her see me weak. Not yet.