“I don't follow rules well,” I reminded her, lifting my head so that the scar could not be completely covered. Earning me an exasperated sigh.
She said nothing else as she stood to the side, urging me to step forward.
If walking through the obsidian court felt like entering a cage, stepping into the throne room felt like stepping into the mouth of a beast. Ancient and hungry, ready to swallow me whole.
The moment I walked into the extravagant space, the doors sealed behindme with a soft click. The guards did not follow, leaving me alone standing in the large space.
The hall stretched impossibly long before me, a cathedral of black stone. Its black pillars spiralling upwards like the ribs of some ancient creature. The marble floor beneath my slippers, was veined with silver that pulsed faintly with living magic, light beating through it like a slow, patient heart.
At the far end elevated upon a dais of obsidian, The King sat waiting.
Rhael Sorenthis reclined upon his throne as though he had grown from it. Dressed entirely in black, sleeves rolled to the elbows, revealing long, vine-like tattoos that coiled up his forearms. His dark hair was loose, strands fell around his face in a way that felt careless and deliberate all at once.
He looked calm, almost serene. Like a predator, content to let its prey approach of its own accord.
I moved, each step echoing loudly in the cavernous space. The silk of my gown suddenly felt like a constrictor against my ribs. When I reached the foot of the dais I stopped. Rhael did not speak immediately. Instead letting the silence stretch until I felt it tugging at my bones.
“I am surprised you responded so easily to my summons,” he said at last, voice smooth. He leant forward, forearms braced against his knees. His silver eyes swept over me from head to toe.
“You called, I came.” I replied lightly, dipping into a shallow,deliberately imperfect curtsey. “I would hate to disappoint my master on the first day of his purchase.”
Sarcasm dripped sweetly from my tongue. I knew better than to provoke him, but I did it anyway.
“You have a talent for words,” he observed, one dark eyebrow lifting as he leaned back into the throne.
“Most do appreciate a bit of personality in a room.” I said with a faint smile. I knew a stunt like that would normally result in at least one whip across my back. But still, I couldn't stop myself.
The King did not move, keeping the same frozen stature as he regarded me like a puzzle. I was impressed at his restraint, but it made me wary. Just because a man who did not strike first, didn’t mean he would not strike at some point.
“You do not fear me?” He questioned, a hand running over his chin thoughtfully.
The stories of the Fae King were that of nightmares. A man who was never meant to become King, placed on the throne by his brother's death, who ruled with a cold heart and an even colder fist.
“I should, but I am curious.” I say, trying to seem as relaxed as possible. Forcing my shoulders to remain level, my breath even.
“About?” He asked. His tongue flicked briefly over the metal ring at his lip, teeth catching it with a soft click that echoed around the vast chamber.
“Why does a King require a human slave when he commands an entire court, who will serve without the need for any coin?” My tone came sharperthan intended and I watched as he shifted in the throne.
“You ask questions as though you have the right to.” The words were simple, but his tone was deadly. His eyes narrowed as if I had just announced that I planned to stab him in his sleep.
“Do I?” I asked, noting that he had not forbidden it outright.
“No,” he replied. The word falling heavy. Cold air pressing inward as our gazes locked. A fight for dominance I knew I had no chance of winning, but I would not surrender so easily.
“So, what is it that my master requires?” I ask, the words sickly sweet dripped from my mouth.
It was a tone I had heard multiple times before. From slaves who were enamoured by their masters, or simply just trying to survive.
“My kingdom is under threat from the east. To prevent war, I must secure alliances among the other realms. But truth is scarce,” he began, his voice steady and measured. Each word was selected carefully.
I knew the rumours. Everyone did.
Years ago, Rhael’s brother had ruled Vaetharyn in prosperity. Then death took him, violent and sudden. Some had rumoured that Rhael’s hand had been the one to guide the blade. Others insisted it had been the work of enemies, seeking to destabilize the Fae from the inside out.
Since then, the Vampires of Noctharis had tested Rhael relentlessly. I had heard stories of raids along borders, livestockand people slaughtered. A steady stream of terror to measure Rhael’s strength as King.
“I require someone to accompany me, to listen and observe those who may be trusted and those who do not deserve it.” He continued, explaining everything slowly, as if my poor human mind could not comprehend what he needed.
