C H A P T E R T H I R T Y – O N E
Something’s… different. Why does she blush so?
C H A P T E R T H I R T Y – O N E
Olwyn
T he breakfast table is unusually warm this mornin g? —as usual, I sit between Altair and Iolas.
The food smells delicious, and there’s a peace to the moment that feels… strange. Comforting, even. Altair’s close presence is less daunting than it used to be, though I’m still hyper-aware of every glance he sends my way, every movement of his hands as they cut through a slice of fruit or lift a cup to his lips.
Iolas, on the other hand, is his usual self, casual and relaxed, though there’s an edge to his smile this morning. He’s been watching me closely since our conversation last night, and I feel his attention even now.
“So,” Altair begins, breaking the comfortable silence. He’s looking at me now, his eyes sharp but warm, as if he’s about to deliver news he knows I’ll like.
“As we all know, the ball is being held within the week,” he says, his tone light. “I’m so happy you’ve been so heavily involved in the process. Your touch has truly made this event something special.”
I smile back. I had been surprised by my invested interest in all the small choices going into planning a ball. Flower colours, fabrics, décor. It had been quite fun spending that time with staff.
Now the excitement of the ball, the planning, and all the details I’d worked on fill me with a sense of accomplishment. “My staff are absolutely thrilled, too,” he continues, his voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. “They’re excited to see all the hard work come together.”
I flush slightly, my cheeks warming with his praise, a pleased smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. After months of being confined to the palace, it feels good to finally be part of something so grand, something I helped shape.
But then Altair’s expression shifts again, his gaze turning more serious. “The day after the ball, we’ll be holding talks with Casius,” he says, his voice steady. “I want you to be present. It’s important, as a show of solidarity. Your presence will send a message.”
I get it. I really do.
I can hate the fact Altair wants this to look like a happy union. But I can also respect he looks very regretful about that.
I nod, my stomach twisting slightly. “Of course,” I say, though the thought of dealing with Casius sends an unsettling chill through me.
Curiosity tugs at me, and I look up at him, hesitant. “What’s Casius really like? I’ve heard the name, the horror stories, but…” I trail off, unsure how to describe the uneasy feeling swirling in my chest.
Altair’s expression tightens, his jaw clenching briefly before he answers, his tone thoughtful. “Casius is cocksure, no question. He’s always carried that arrogance with him.” He pauses, his gaze sharpening. “But don’t let that fool you. He’s fiercely intelligent—strategic in a way that makes him dangerous. We can’t underestimate him.”
I digest his words, feeling the weight of them sink into me.
I consider his words carefully, my mind turning. “Arrogance often disguises insecurity,” I say, and Altair’s eyes widen in surprise. “If he’s as strategic as you say, he’s probably calculating his every move, making sure he never shows his weaknesses. He probably knows exactly what he wants out of these talks already. So, we need to stay two steps ahead of him.”
Altair meets my gaze, his expression flickering with approval. “Exactly,” he says, a rare hint of admiration in his voice. “I’m glad you see that.”
I nod slowly, but then a thought strikes me, and I feel a shift inside. If I’m to be a part of this—if this is truly my kingdom as much as his—then I need to understand what we’re really offering, or what we want in these talks.
I square my shoulders, pushing away the lingering unease, and meet his gaze with resolve. “What exactly are we offering in these peace talks, Altair? What do we want from Casius?”
His lips twitch, as if weighing how much to say, but then he speaks. “I’m offering peace. No more battles in the human realm, no more bloodshed in their cities. We’ve suffered long enough under the threat of constant war. I’m willing to end that, but only if Casius agrees to stop encroaching on our territory. We both need to be held accountable without the endless cycles of violence.”
“And if he refuses?” I ask, my voice steady, though a knot of uncertainty tightens in my stomach.
Altair looks away for the first time, a muscle in his jaw clenching. “With you here he won’t.”
His words linger in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. I search his face, trying to read between the lines, but it’s as though he’s hiding something—something more personal.
“Is it because of me? Because I’m the subject of the prophecy? Or because I’m your wife?” I ask.
Finally, he meets my gaze, and there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that I haven’t seen before. “Both,” he admits quietly.
I sit back, absorbing his words. The implications weigh on me, but something nags at the back of my mind. I squint slightly, suddenly piecing things together in a way I hadn’t before.
“You and Casius,” I say, the realisation dawning on me. “You know each other, don’t you?”
Altair doesn’t immediately respond, his jaw tightening as though the thought of Casius is one he prefers to avoid. But I can see it now—the subtle tension, the way his voice shifts when he speaks of him.
I glance across the table, noticing Iolas has been unusually quiet this whole time. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed, watching us with a knowing look in his eyes. “Oh, they know each other all right.” he says, his voice teasing but with an underlying seriousness. “Old friends,” he adds with a sarcastic tone.
Altair shoots him a sharp look, but Iolas just raises an eyebrow, unfazed. Whatever has happened between them, their history doesn’t seem good. But I don’t want to pry if it causes Altair pain.
“So, what does this mean for the talks with him?” I ask, my mind racing as I try to understand the full scope of what we’re facing.
Altair’s gaze hardens again, and he leans forward, his voice lowering. “It means that it’s personal. I don’t trust him, and he won’t trust me. But we have no choice but to meet, to negotiate, if we want to keep this peace.”
I nod, my thoughts swirling.
“On a more positive note,” Altair changes the subject. He’s looking at me now. “Tomorrow, we’re going out of the palace.”
My fork pauses mid-air, and I stare at him for a moment, letting the words sink in. “Out?” I echo, unable to contain the excitement creeping into my voice.
Altair’s lips twitch into the smallest hint of a smile. “Yes. I told you two weeks. And you gave me those two weeks. It’s time you saw more than just these walls.”
My heart leaps, and I feel a wide grin spread across my face before I can stop it. “We’re really going?”
Both Altair and Iolas exchange a glance, and I catch the flicker of amusement in their expressions, though they both seem to soften at my enthusiasm.
Iolas leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Look at her. She’s ready to burst with excitement.”
I flush slightly, realising how giddy I must sound, but the excitement bubbling inside me is hard to tamp down. After months of being confined to this palace, of feeling the pressure of these grand walls closing in on me, the idea of stepping outside—of seeing what’s beyond—is exhilarating.
“However,” Altair says, his tone turning a touch more serious. “There is something else we need to handle before we leave tomorrow.”
I pause, my fork still hovering over my plate. The shift in his voice sets my nerves on edge. “What is it?”
Altair’s gaze meets mine, steady and unyielding. “I need you to attend a council meeting with me today.”
I blink, feeling the excitement drain from my body. A council meeting. With all the vampire lords. The last time I was in a room with them, Dazeem lost his hand. For touching me. The memory rushes back, the feel of his disgusting fingers gripping me, and I have to suppress a shudder.
“Why?” I ask, my voice quieter now, my earlier excitement giving way to a knot of anxiety in my stomach.
Altair’s eyes narrow slightly, as if reading my thoughts, sensing the hesitation. “You’re my queen,” he says, his voice firm but gentle. “You need to be seen as such by them. You’ve been too absent from their discussions since I returned. It’s time you show them who they are.”
Altair had never brought it up since that day in the council room, never asked me to go with him, likely knowing it would have made me uncomfortable around Dazeem. I had felt a quiet relief at that, grateful for the unspoken understanding between us that I didn’t want to attend them. But now, as he sits before me, his gaze sharp, I sense the change.
I swallow hard, trying to push the rising panic down. “But Dazeem—”
“I know,” Altair cuts in, his gaze hardening just a fraction at the mention of the vampire lord’s name. “He’ll be there. But so will I. And so will Iolas.” He pauses, leaning in slightly, his voice lowering to a more intimate tone. “You have nothing to fear from him anymore, Olwyn. He can’t touch you again. You could end him in a second, if you wanted to. Dazeem may be a vampire, but he’s never spent a day in a training arena.”
His words stir something in me—but the thought of facing Dazeem, of sitting in that room with all those vampires thinking they are better than me, fills me with dread.
Altair must see the hesitation on my face because he reaches across the table, his hand brushing mine. It’s a small gesture, but it’s grounding.
“You are a queen, Olwyn,” he reminds me softly, his eyes locking onto mine. “And you have the power to show them just how strong you are. You’ve already proven that you’re not to be underestimated by the way you handled that assassin, and the way you have helped organise the ball.”
I nod, though I don’t feel entirely convinced. My mind is still swirling with the memory of Dazeem’s sneer, the way he leered at me as if I was nothing. “I’m not sure I’m ready,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.
“You are,” Altair says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
I glance over at Iolas, hoping for some kind of reprieve or distraction, but he’s watching me intently, his expression serious. “You’ve handled worse, little witch,” Iolas says. “Look at how you lived back in Avantra. All those lords have been brought up with a stick up their arse, believing they’re better than everyone. They’ve never experienced a day of hardship in their lives. Well, beside Dazeem losing his hand.” I laugh as he continues, and he’s not wrong. “And like Altair said, we’ll both be there.”
His words help, but the nerves still flutter in my stomach. I look back at Altair, my fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the table. “What if… what if it goes badly?”
Altair’s smirks, “If anyone tries anything, they’ll have you to deal with.” His gaze darkens, shadows flickering in his eyes. “And you’ll see just how much power you hold here. Trust me, Olwyn.”
I take a deep breath, letting his words settle over me like a blanket of reassurance. It’s not much, but it’s enough for now.
“All right,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel.
Altair smiles, and for a moment, there’s something almost proud in his expression. “Good.”
I feel a mix of excitement and dread swirling in my chest—excited for tomorrow’s freedom beyond the palace, and anxious about facing the lords today.
“Let’s finish breakfast,” Altair says, cutting through my thoughts. “We’ll go soon.”
I nod, but as I take a bite of the fruit on my plate, the taste is muted, the nerves twisting in my stomach too tightly for me to fully enjoy it. I catch Altair glancing at me from the corner of my eye, his expression softening just slightly, as if he can see the storm of emotions swirling inside me.
But then he returns to his meal, the moment passing as quickly as it came, and I focus on steadying my breath, reminding myself of the words he spoke.
I’m a queen.
The title still feels foreign, heavy, and cold, like a crown made of iron pressing into my skull. What does it mean to truly be a queen in this vampire kingdom where I believed at the beginning that my role was more a prison than a throne? I didn’t choose this life. It was thrust upon me, a role forced into my trembling hands with little more than the expectation to survive.
Now, knowing everything I do, and having gotten… closer , to Altair, if I had the choice today, would I still agree to be his queen? The question sits in my chest like a stone. The truth is, I don’t know. I’ve starting to accept this title, to wield it when needed, but not out of love or loyalty.
Not yet.
It’s a mantle of survival, a mask I wear to protect myself in a court that would devour me if it sensed weakness.
But the thought of Dazeem looking down on me , sharpens my resolve, igniting a fire in my chest. Can I claim this role that was forced upon me and make it mine? I glance at Altair, who looks every bit the unyielding king, a man who truly believes I can stand by his side as an equal.
I can face them. Even Dazeem.
The alternative is to let this kingdom crush me under its weight, to let these vampires, these nobles, and their labyrinth of power games strip me of whatever control I have left. And that... that is not an option. The thought might make my heart pound, might make the shadows seem deeper and the whispers sharper, but fear can be a weapon too.
Let them watch. Let them scheme. I’ll meet them head-on.