175

175


I held my breath as we stepped into the grand chamber, my head held high despite the storm of nerves raging within me. Each step felt heavier than the last, but I forced myself to move with purpose, refusing to let a single tremor betray my unease. I didn’t dare meet their eyes. I could already picture their expressions—masks of contempt, disgust, or worse, complete indifference. But I refused to shrink beneath their scrutiny. Instead, I whispered silent affirmations to myself, reinforcing my worth, reminding myself that I was above their petty disdain.

Hadrian, however, had no intention of letting my presence go unnoticed. He wanted to send a message, loud and clear. As we entered, my eyes fell on the two thrones positioned on the raised platform—one for him as King, and one for me, his Queen. Ignoring all formalities, he guided me forward, ensuring I was seated first before he claimed his place beside me. Our thrones were close—so close they nearly touched—an unspoken declaration that I was not beneath him but beside him, his equal in every sense.

Even my mere presence was enough to stir unease, but when I settled into the throne with unshaken composure, the murmur of discontent swelled into outright commotion. I exhaled slowly, steadying myself, and then, finally, I let my gaze sweep across the hall. The hostility struck me like a cold wave, its source easy to pinpoint. My eyes locked onto the front row, left side. Lord Protector Ashcroft Eryx sat rigid, his expression carved in pure loathing. His seething glare was mirrored by the woman at his side—his wife, I presumed—and their two sons, both the image of her. Their collective hatred once had the power to unsettle me. Now? It barely scratched the surface. Once, I had feared the noble vampires, but now I saw them for what they truly were—fragile in their arrogance, powerless before me. A quiet chuckle escaped my lips as I turned my attention elsewhere.

My gaze settled on an older man seated in the center of the hall, his posture dignified, his expression unreadable. Count Yash Patel. He bore the sharp, calculating eyes of a man who played the game of politics well. The Patel family had always remained neutral, never opposing Hadrian nor pledging undying loyalty. But things had changed. Vikram Patel, his son, was dead—by Hadrian’s hand. And though Count Patel betrayed no open resentment, I wondered if his silence masked a desire for vengeance. Would he oppose my ascension simply to strike back? I doubted I had many allies in this room…

Or so I thought, until I spotted a familiar face. Penrose. The moment our eyes met, she grinned, her expression mischievous and unapologetic, and I couldn't help but smile in return. I had missed her and her wild antics, missed the ease of her company. And, if I were being honest, I missed the rich taste of the Pinot Noir she always seemed to have on hand—though now, it would take far more than a few glasses to get me drunk.

Penrose wasn’t my only unexpected ally. Seated beside her was Lucian Grimsby, his expression warm and reassuring. His presence here surprised me, considering his family had been stripped of their noble status due to accusations of impure blood. Hadrian must have intervened, restoring their rank. It meant something to me, seeing Lucian there. He had always been in my corner, and in this sea of opposition, his support—and Penrose’s—was a comfort I hadn’t realized I needed.

The hall was filled with vampires I had never seen before, but with my heightened senses, I could gauge their power, feel the strength pulsing in their veins. And yet, as I looked down at them from my throne, it struck me—despite my humble origins, I was stronger than every single one of them.

Every single one except for him.

Hadrian sat beside me, an embodiment of raw power, his very presence commanding attention. Clad in a tailored charcoal suit, his black shirt and deep red tie—chosen to match my gown—only added to his dangerous allure. Every inch of him exuded authority, his poised, unshakable posture making him the living embodiment of dominance. He didn’t just look powerful. He was power.

And he was mine.

I watched, enthralled, as the women in the hall shifted restlessly, their eyes drawn to him, their longing almost palpable. I didn’t blame them. Hadrian didn’t need words or gestures to seduce—his presence alone was enough to set the air alight with tension. He could have any of them with the mere crook of his finger. But he wouldn’t. Because despite all the covetous stares, all the unspoken desires hanging thick in the air, his gaze found only me.

Sensing my eyes on him, Hadrian turned, his expression softening in a way that was meant for me alone. Without hesitation, he reached for my hand, lifting it to his lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. A hushed gasp rippled through the crowd, outrage crackling like an open flame.

But I barely heard it. With his touch, every lingering trace of unease within me dissolved. I was his, and he was mine. And together, we were unstoppable.

The moment his lips left my skin, Hadrian turned to face the assembly. Silence fell instantly, thick and expectant. Then, his voice rang out, firm and unwavering.

"You’ve all heard of Selene Thorne’s treachery. Once she is found, she will face the punishment befitting a traitor. James Miller, former advisor to King Alaric and accomplice to the false queen, has already been executed." His words carried the weight of finality, offering no room for dispute. Then, his gaze swept across the nobles, daring them to challenge him.

"I was never one to blindly follow King Alaric’s decrees. His will was not my own. And I refused to accept Selene Thorne as my queen." Hadrian’s grip on my hand tightened, his thumb brushing over my skin in reassurance. "Today, I present to you the woman of my choosing—the one who will soon be your Queen."

The declaration had been inevitable from the moment I took my place beside him. Yet, the hall erupted in disbelief, murmurs escalating into outright protest.

"King Hadrian!" A voice cut through the commotion. Lord Protector Ashcroft shot to his feet, his face burning with incredulity. But the moment Hadrian’s piercing gaze met his, he faltered, his bravado deflating. He cleared his throat, lowering his voice as he pressed forward. "Your Majesty, surely you realize… your chosen one was once human. Even now, she is nothing more than a commoner. You cannot truly intend to make her your Queen…"

He turned slightly, seeking validation from the assembled nobility. The murmurs of agreement rippled through the hall like a growing tide.

But Hadrian’s grip on my hand remained firm.

And I? I was ready. Let the show begin.

Hadrian's gaze darkened with raw fury. "As a human, Thalassa Drayton possessed more strength than most half-bloods I have encountered. And now…" His voice was unwavering, edged with certainty. "She could defeat you and your sons in less than a minute." He let the words sink in, his grip on my hand tightening. "And yet, you dare to call her nothing but a commoner?"

His declaration sent a shiver through me—not of fear, but of something deeper. Pride. Yet beneath that pride, I felt the tension rippling through him, every muscle coiled with restrained rage. Though his voice remained calm, I could feel the storm raging within him. He could barely tolerate that Ashcroft had the audacity to challenge his choice.

Before another word could be spoken, Yash Patel raised a hand, signaling his wish to speak. Hadrian gave a curt nod, granting permission.

The Count stood with composed elegance, offering a respectful bow before addressing the room. "If the King vouches for Thalassa Drayton's strength, then none of us would dare question it."

A hush fell over the chamber, but I caught the flicker of disdain in Ashcroft’s expression as he shot Patel a scathing glare. Yet, despite the Count’s carefully chosen words, I could sense his hesitation. There was something unspoken hanging in the air—something I knew was coming.

And then, a heartbeat later, it arrived.

"But," Patel continued smoothly, "despite the commoner's strength, she remains a commoner. She is not noble." A faint smirk ghosted over his lips as he delivered the final blow.

Hadrian’s jaw tightened. "What exactly are you implying, Count Patel?" His voice was dangerously low, each word slipping through clenched teeth.

The Count bowed slightly, his tone carrying an edge of feigned courtesy. "I refer to your future Queen’s infertility." His sharp gaze flicked to me, unreadable yet piercing. "No commoner has ever been able to bear a child. And the King must have an heir."

A cold sweat broke across my skin. My breath hitched. My head spun.

Infertility?

I had never even considered the possibility before, yet now, it crashed over me like an unforgiving tide. It was true—I could walk in daylight, my hunger didn’t mirror that of ordinary vampires, and I was unlike any commoner before me. But was that the only difference? Could I truly be incapable of bearing a child?

Caspian had been running tests, collecting new samples of my blood, but it would take weeks to get answers. Right now, I had nothing to disprove Patel’s claim. Nothing to defend myself with.

Hadrian abruptly rose from his seat, his fingers slipping from mine. His entire being radiated barely restrained wrath, his eyes ablaze with the promise of destruction. Yash Patel had crossed a line.

"Hadrian," I whispered, my voice barely audible. But I knew he heard me.

His gaze shifted to mine, and in that moment, an unspoken understanding passed between us. Like me, he realized that Patel might be right. And that realization cut deep.

Hadrian closed his eyes, taking a slow, measured breath before turning back to the crowd.

"Count Patel," his voice rang through the chamber, steady yet unyielding, "Thalassa Drayton is the only known commoner who can walk by day. Her hunger is not dictated by bloodthirst, and I can assure you that she possesses more noble qualities than ninety percent of those gathered here." He let his words settle, his piercing gaze sweeping across the room before finally landing on me.

"I can live an eternity without an heir," he declared, "but I cannot live without my Queen by my side."

A sharp gasp rippled through the chamber. His words were madness. A king needed an heir—it was his duty to continue the bloodline. And yet, Hadrian had just sworn to forsake that duty for me.

Tears stung my eyes. The weight of his devotion left me breathless.

Murmurs broke out across the room, splitting the assembly into two factions—those who viewed the Queen as nothing more than a vessel for producing an heir and those who understood the importance of a strong ruler by the King's side. In the end, the division was equal. It was neither a victory nor a defeat.

But I would prove them wrong. Every single one of them.

I smiled at Hadrian, trying to reassure him that I was fine, though deep down, turmoil churned within me. Patel’s words haunted me. It wasn’t the notion of motherhood that unsettled me—I had never given it much thought before—but the possibility that something had been stolen from me without my knowledge.

I needed time. Time to think. Time to breathe.

The weight of the day pressed on me long after the meeting ended. By nightfall, I was restless, my thoughts a chaotic storm. Seeking solace, I wandered the palace gardens, hoping the fresh air would soothe my unease.

I meandered through the hedge labyrinth, inhaling the crisp night air, when an unexpected scent drifted toward me—one that made me freeze in place.

A wolf.

My heart pounded. A lone wolf in a vampire palace? It made no sense.

Curiosity drove me forward, my steps light yet determined as I followed the scent, weaving through the labyrinth’s twists and turns. And then, at the end of a path, I found him.

Leif.

He stood before me, smirking, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Hello, Thalassa," he drawled.

A nervous smile curled my lips. "W-what are you doing here?"

His smirk deepened. "We came for you."

A chill crawled up my spine. "What?"

Before I could react, an ominous presence closed in behind me, squeezing the air from my lungs. The sensation was suffocatingly familiar—only this time, it was even stronger.

A sharp prick at my neck. A needle. A rush of liquid burning through my veins.

Panic seized me as my vision blurred. My limbs grew numb. The world tilted.

And then, through the haze, I saw them. A pair of golden-green eyes belonging to a man with jet-black hair.

He chuckled, his voice a cruel melody as he lifted my limp body into his arms.

"It's time to take you home, dearest Sister."