Chapter 251 TEIGEN LXXXI
Audrey’s heart stirred. “All of this?”
“From his private treasury.”
Greer reached toward a necklace but stopped under Azalia’s gaze.
“He is too generous,” Audrey said quietly.
“Let us begin,” Azalia replied.
The gown chosen for her was deep crimson, rich and flowing like liquid fire. As her maids dressed her, Audrey’s thoughts drifted to Darius and his gentle voice.
When she turned to the mirror, she paused.
She looked different. Not just beautiful, but changed somehow. The red brought warmth to her skin, and her eyes held a quiet glow she had not seen in weeks.
Greer sighed. “My lady, you are a poem.”
Audrey laughed softly. “Then His Majesty must read me with care.”
Azalia watched from the side, silent.
As the seamstress made her final adjustments, Audrey turned slightly, revealing the faint crescent mark on her back.
Azalia’s eyes narrowed for a brief moment.
“Does it please you, Elder?” Audrey asked.
“It will please the Empire,” Azalia said.
Audrey lifted her chin. “I hope it pleases him most of all.”
“Love is a dangerous thing in a court,” Azalia said.
“Perhaps,” Audrey replied, “but I would still choose it.”
Azalia studied her, then nodded once. “We shall see.”
When the others were sent away, Azalia spoke again.
“You will come with me. The physician must see you before the wedding.”
“A precaution?” Audrey asked.
“For your strength. And for the future of the crown.”
Audrey hesitated, then nodded. “Very well.”
They walked through quieter halls, past old paintings and tall windows. The air grew still.
“You seem content,” Azalia said.
“I am,” Audrey answered. “The king and I have made peace.”
Azalia gave a faint hum. “And it brings you joy?”
“Yes,” Audrey said. “He is my mate.”
“The heart can mislead,” Azalia said softly.
“I think it gives us courage,” Audrey replied.
Azalia did not answer.
At last, they reached the physician’s chamber.
A man looked up and bowed. “My lady.”
Azalia gestured for Audrey to sit. “A simple examination.”
The physician worked quietly, checking her pulse and asking a few questions. At last, he placed a drop of her blood into a bowl.
The liquid hissed and turned dull grey.
Audrey frowned. “What does that mean?”
“It is nothing of concern,” Azalia said quickly.
Audrey hesitated but did not press further. She was dismissed soon after.
Outside, Greer hurried to her. “Was it painful?”
“No,” Audrey said. “Only strange.”
They walked back in silence.
“Do you ever feel people hide things from us?” Audrey asked.
Greer looked confused. “I do not know, my lady.”
Audrey shook her head. “Perhaps I am only tired.”
But she knew it was more. Back in the chamber, the physician stared at the bowl. The liquid now glowed faintly red.
“This is not human,” he whispered.
Azalia’s gaze sharpened. “Explain.”
“There is something else in her blood. Something strong.”
Azalia’s lips curved slightly. “I thought as much.”
“The king should know,” he said.
“No,” Azalia replied. “This stays between us.”
She turned to the window, her voice low.
“Seal the record. Say she is fit. And if anything changes, you will send for me.”
That night, Audrey could not sleep.
She sat by the window, looking out over the dark garden. The memory of Darius still lingered, warm and close.
Yet something felt wrong.
She rested her hand against her chest and whispered his name.
But unease lingered, quiet and steady, like a shadow she could not yet see.
~
The great hall of the imperial palace shone like a sky full of stars brought to earth. Chandeliers hung high above, their candles casting warm gold light across silk-draped tables. Silver platters overflowed with food, and goblets brimmed with spiced wine. Music filled the air, soft and sweet, yet beneath it all there was a quiet tension. Nobles watched closely, their eyes measuring every step the mortal bride took.
At the head of the hall, upon a raised dais beneath crimson banners, sat Audrey and King Darius.
Her gown of deep red silk shimmered with every movement, like living flame. Jewels rested at her throat, catching the light and scattering it in bright sparks. Audrey could feel the weight of the court’s gaze, hear the whispers that followed her.
“The jewels must have cost a fortune,” someone murmured.
“A human alone could never hold the Alpha King,” another said.
She lowered her gaze, her cheeks warming.
Beside her, Darius leaned closer, his mantle brushing her arm. His voice was low and steady.
“Let them look,” he said. “They only prove what I already know.”
Audrey glanced at him. “And what is that, Your Majesty?”
“That nothing here shines half as bright as you tonight.”
The words were simple, but they carried weight. His eyes softened as he looked at her, and for a moment the noise around them faded.
“They speak of your jewels,” he added quietly. “But I chose them poorly. I know little of such things.”
Audrey smiled faintly. “Then I must thank your poor judgment, my lord. They are beautiful.”
“You liked them?”
She hesitated. “They are… more than I deserve.”
Darius gave a quiet laugh. “Nothing is too much for my queen. I intend to spoil you, Audrey of Vilaz.”
Her heart stirred at the warmth in his voice. The distance that once stood between them had faded.
Around them, voices rose and fell. Lords spoke of trade and war. Ladies laughed softly. Ryker sat nearby, silent, watching everything. Darius leaned closer again. “Are you afraid?”
“A little,” Audrey admitted. “There are too many eyes.”
“Then look only at me,” he said.
For a moment, she did. And it helped. Then the sound of a staff striking marble broke the calm.
“The Royal Bards of the Silver Lyre.”
Music filled the hall as six bards entered, dressed in pale silver. They bowed before the king and queen.
“Tonight,” their leader said, “we sing of the love between the Alpha King and his chosen bride.”
A murmur of approval followed.
The song began, telling of a lone king and a mortal girl, of a love that defied all things. The court listened, drawn in by the tale.