Chapter 10
Aurora
The ruin of Vaelora Manor devoured itself behind us, hungry flames licking at century-old wood and stone.
I watched with a hollow satisfaction as my prison crumbled, each collapsing beam a symphony of revenge.
The heat pressed against my skin like a memory—how many years had I spent cold in that nightmare?
Bell stood beside me, her dagger loose in her grip, firelight dancing across the sharp angles of her face.
I could taste freedom in the air, bitter and sweet all at once, but I knew better than anyone—some chains are never truly broken.
"She's still in there," I murmured, the certainty of it thick on my tongue. The Sorceress who had woven my prison from spite and obsession, who had trapped me in endless nightmares… she was now caught in her own web.
Bell's golden-brown eyes flicked to mine, assessing, calculating.
Her gaze felt like a blade cutting through pretense, but it softened when it landed on me.
She nodded once, a sharp movement that spoke volumes.
We had both believed that my escape would be our victory, that breaking free of the nightmare would be enough. We were wrong.
The true end came when the Sorceress lost control of her own creation.
When the nightmare that had been my prison for a century turned against her, when she became as bound to it as I had been—that was when her fate was sealed.
A slow smirk curled at the edges of my lips, satisfaction coiling deep in my stomach like a pleased serpent.
"Let her rot," I whispered, and the words tasted like honey and ash.
The manor burned with a ferocity that matched the hatred I'd carried, but Bell and I both knew the truth—fire alone couldn't contain something that had survived for centuries, feeding on fear and despair.
We spent days reinforcing the wards around the blackened ruins, carving ancient sigils into broken stone, binding what remained of her power beneath layers of magic older than either of us.
Bell worked tirelessly, her fingers tracing patterns in the air that glowed briefly before sinking into the charred earth.
I watched her hands shake, noticed the way exhaustion dragged at her steps, saw the shadows growing deeper beneath her eyes.
She never complained, never faltered, and something in my chest ached at her dedication.
"That should hold her," she said on the third day, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. Her black sleeve tattoos flexed over corded muscle, and I remembered how those arms had carried me from the nightmare, steady and unwavering. "If she ever tries to break free, we'll know."
I nodded, my gaze lingering on the ruin that had once been my home, my prison, my hell. The flames had died, leaving behind a skeleton of blackened stone and twisted metal. Behind it, the sun was setting, bleeding crimson across the horizon.
"It's time," I said, turning away from the ruins toward the waiting carriage that would take us back to the kingdom I had once called mine.
Bell followed, adjusting the collar of her coat, her expression unreadable in the fading light. But I felt her hesitation, the slight pause in her step.
"You don't have to do this alone," she said, and for the first time since I'd awakened, I believed her.
The journey back was silent, filled with the gentle rocking of the carriage and Bell's steady breathing beside me.
I spent the hours watching the landscape change in the dimming light, mentally piecing together what would be required to reclaim what was rightfully mine.
I had spent a century in the nightmare, trapped in endless variations of suffering, but that time had not been wasted.
I had learned patience. I had learned cruelty. I had learned power.
My kingdom had fallen into decay during my absence, a place of shadows and whispers where my father's memory had long since been erased.
The Sorceress had ruled from the shadows, draining the life from the land as surely as she had tried to drain mine.
I felt nothing at the sight of crumbling buildings and hollow-eyed subjects, only purpose.
The moment we arrived, I took back my throne.
Not with kindness, not with mercy, but with the cold calculation that had kept me sane in the nightmare.
The people cheered when I was announced, but they did not know me.
They did not know what I had become, what I had done to survive.
They saw only the fairy tale… the sleeping beauty awakened, returned to save them.
Bell watched from the side as I made decree after decree—restoring order, reclaiming lands that had been left to rot, punishing those who had aligned themselves with the Sorceress. I was not cruel, but I was not kind. Fear, I had learned, was a more reliable tool than love.
"The eastern provinces will return to the crown," I announced to my newly appointed council, my voice leaving no room for argument. "Those who resist will be removed."
Bell never spoke against my methods, but I felt her eyes on me, watching, waiting, wondering how much of me had truly returned from that nightmare. I caught her gaze across the council chamber, a question in the tilt of her head. I didn't answer. I couldn't. I wasn't sure I knew the answer myself.
Despite the weight of the kingdom pressing down on me, there was one constant, one thing that remained unchanged—Bell. She moved through the halls of my palace like she belonged there, her golden gaze sharp, her presence always just within reach. She became my shadow, my protector, my anchor.
The reconfirmation ceremony came six weeks after my return.
The grand hall glittered with candles and jewels, representatives from neighboring kingdoms mingling with my own nobles.
All of them curious, all of them wary, all of them wanting something from the queen who had returned from death itself.
I watched them from my throne, dressed in pale blue silk that made me look ethereal, untouchable. My perfectly styled blonde hair was pulled back, my makeup flawless. I was a vision of delicate refinement, the perfect disguise for the monster I had become.
Bell stood near the wall, uncomfortable from the attention of everyone attending, but striking nonetheless. Her black vest hugged her torso, her sleeves rolled up to expose those beautiful tattoos. She looked dangerous, out of place among the finery, and utterly mine.
When a count from the western province lingered too long at her side, his hand brushing her arm as he laughed at something he'd said, I felt something dark and possessive rise in my chest. I glided across the floor, silent as a shadow, and slid behind her.
My arm circled her waist, my fingers skimming along her throat as I pressed my lips to her ear.
"Having fun?" I whispered, feeling her pulse jump beneath my touch.
The count stammered, bowed, and made a hasty retreat. Bell sighed, amusement and exasperation mingling in the sound.
"You can't just stake a claim on me like I'm a prized possession," she murmured, but her voice held no real protest, only the warmth of affection. She swatted at my hand but didn't pull away.
"Can't I?" I kept her close, my chin resting on her shoulder. "You're the only thing in this kingdom worth having."
She turned to face me, her eyes searching mine. "There are rumors," she said quietly. "About us. About how you were saved. You haven't given them a story, so they make one up. Or so I presume."
I stiffened. The truth of how Bell had been drawn to me came in whispers, in fragments of conversations overheard in the dark corners of court.
The Sorceress had been the one to hire Bell, had given her the contract, had led her straight into my prison.
She had never meant for Bell to save me… she had meant for Bell to break me.
My stomach twisted, a cold, violent rage settling in my bones as I realized just how close the Sorceress had come to winning. Bell had been a pawn, a weapon the Sorceress had tried to turn against me, to make me love her, only to rip her away.
But she had underestimated the very thing she had once desired… me.
"Let them talk," I said, my voice harder than I intended. "They don't understand what we survived."
Bell's expression softened, and she reached up, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw. "No," she agreed. "They don't."
Throughout the evening, I kept Bell close. When a diplomat from the southern isles attempted to take her hand in greeting, I intercepted, gripping Bell's fingers and lacing them with my own before pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to her knuckles.
The diplomat stammered, excused himself, and I could feel Bell's exasperated stare burning into me.
"Really?" she muttered under her breath, but I only smirked. She pretended to scold me, but she never pulled away, never truly stopped me.
"Let them all know you're mine," I whispered against her skin, and though she sighed, I felt the way her pulse quickened beneath my lips.
Despite the illusion of peace, we both knew the Sorceress was a lingering shadow on the edge of our victory.
I had dreamt of her the night before, her voice echoing in my mind, reminding me that some curses could never be broken.
Bell had held me through the nightmares, her arms strong around me, her voice anchoring me to reality.
"If you let one more person touch you," I said as we watched the dancing from the edge of the floor, "I'll drag you into the middle of the floor and show them all who you belong to."
Bell's breath hitched, her eyes dilating as she looked at me. "You wouldn't dare."
The challenge in her voice sent a thrill down my spine. I leaned closer, my lips brushing her ear. "It's a promise, Bell. Don't push me and don't let anyone else touch you."
She met my gaze, defiance and desire warring in her expression. "I don't belong to anyone," she said, but the words lacked conviction.
I smiled, slow and predatory. "We both know that's not true."
An hour later, a representative from the eastern kingdom—a tall woman with dark eyes and a calculating smile—moved too close to Bell.
Her hand brushed against Bell's elbow as she leaned in, speaking in low tones.
Bell nodded, professional as always, but I saw the woman's fingers linger as she leaned closer than necessary.
Something dark and dangerous inside of me snapped.
I set down my wine glass with deliberate care and sauntered across the room, my gaze never leaving Bell. The crowd parted before me, conversations faltering as I passed. I felt the weight of every stare in the room, the anticipation humming in the air.
I reached Bell and the representative, my smile glacial. "Excuse us," I said, not waiting for a response before I pulled Bell into an embrace.
"I'm going to show them all exactly how I own you… mind, body, and soul," I whispered in her ear, feeling her stiffen against me. "They need to know loud and clear. No matter what you say or do, I'm not going to stop until you say 'crimson.'"
"Don't you dare," Bell started to protest, but I spun her around, pulling her arms behind her back as I pinned them there with one hand. My other hand slid up to her throat, not squeezing, just resting against the rapid pulse beneath her skin.
The music faltered. The room fell silent. Every eye turned to us, to this display of possession.
"Your Majesty," someone began, but I cut them off with a look.
"I want to make something perfectly clear," I announced, my voice carrying across the hushed room. "Belladonna Moreau is mine. Not a guest to be entertained, not a contract to be negotiated, not a prize to be won. Mine."
Bell's breathing was shallow, her body tense against mine, but she didn't say the word that would stop me. Instead, she tilted her head back, exposing more of her throat to my touch… a surrender that sent fire through my veins.
"Anyone who touches her," I continued, my fingers tracing patterns on Bell's skin that made her shiver, "anyone who attempts to take what is mine, will answer to me."
There was a collective intake of breath, shock and scandal rippling through the crowd. I didn't care. Let them see. Let them know. Let them understand that I had not returned as their gentle princess—I had returned as something far more dangerous.
I released Bell's arms but kept her close, turning her to face me. Her eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, a flush creeping up her neck. I cupped her face in my hands and kissed her, slow and deep and possessive… a claiming that brooked no argument.
When I pulled back, Bell's lips were parted, her expression dazed. "You're impossible," she murmured, but there was a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
"I'm a queen," I corrected, loud enough for those nearby to hear. "And queens take what they want."
The crowd dispersed, conversations resuming in hushed, scandalized tones. I kept Bell at my side for the remainder of the evening, my hand on the small of her back, my gaze daring anyone to approach.
"That was completely unnecessary," she said, but her voice was rough with desire.
I smiled, tracing the line of her jaw. "Was it?"
"Yes." She kissed me, hard and demanding. "I was never theirs to take."
"Say it," I whispered against her lips.
Bell pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, her golden eyes fierce and tender all at once. "I'm yours," she said. "I have been since the moment I found you in that nightmare."
I felt something crack in my chest, a hairline fracture in the ice I'd built around my heart. "And I'm yours," I admitted, the words feeling like both a surrender and a victory.
I had survived a century of nightmares. I had reclaimed my kingdom. I had found something worth fighting for.
And I would burn the world to ashes before I let it go.
Everyone needed to know how far I would go to prove Bell was mine.