Chapter 86

I finally understood why moving into the Royal Palace was such a significant event. It was a place far beyond anything I had ever imagined—an architectural marvel that seemed to blend the grandeur of Bavaria’s Neuschwanstein Castle with the majestic elegance of India’s Amber Fortress. Encased in sprawling, breathtaking gardens, the palace embodied the romanticism of the nineteenth century, delicately infused with the mystique of Southern Asian artistry.

"Wow..." The word escaped my lips in awe.

The palace's main building was a sight to behold, reserved solely for the King and those closest to him. To the east lay the harem, connected to the main building through a series of secret passageways—passages known only to the King himself. The western wing was designated for esteemed guests and their families, while the servants and military personnel resided in two grand structures a short distance from the castle’s core.

Standing before its vast expanse, I finally grasped the true magnitude of the Vampire King’s power.

As we arrived at the main entrance, my eyes were drawn to the long red carpet cascading down the steps, leading to the immense doors adorned with intricate golden embellishments. A crowd of forty to fifty individuals lined both sides of the carpet, waiting solemnly to receive the new King. They were palace officials, military commanders, and servants—all standing in disciplined formation.

Hadrian stepped out of the car with effortless grace, waiting as a servant hurried to my side, opening the door and offering a hand to assist me. Once I stepped out, he approached and took my hand, leading me forward with an unmistakable air of authority. His actions left no room for doubt—he was making a bold statement to all present that I was the one he had chosen to stand by his side, to share his throne.

I climbed the grand staircase with him, determinedly ignoring the scornful glances and whispered remarks trailing behind me. I knew this was just the beginning, and I steeled myself for the battles yet to come. Just as I convinced myself I was handling the pressure well, an unexpected voice pierced the tense air.

"I would like to personally welcome King Hadrian to his new estate, the Royal Castle," Selene's voice rang out from the top of the stairs.

"Long live the King!" she proclaimed.

"Long live the King!" the gathered crowd echoed in unison.

Selene stood poised, draped in a striking black gown that hugged her figure, the high collar and plunging neckline adding an air of dark allure. It could have been a mourning dress—had it not been so undeniably seductive. In comparison, my pearl-white dress, adorned with delicate lace, suddenly felt too modest, too simple.

Her eyes, filled with intent, remained fixed on Hadrian. As usual, she paid me no attention, but this time, her disregard felt more pointed, more deliberate. Her entire presence exuded a challenge, as though she were seducing Hadrian right in front of me without a care in the world.

"Thank you, Princess," Hadrian responded, his voice laced with sarcasm. He leaned in, his tone dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Now step aside, because you are no longer in charge here."

For a brief moment, Selene stiffened, her expression faltering before she forced a smile and moved aside. Hadrian’s smirk was cold, his nod to the gatekeepers a silent command to open the massive doors. Without hesitation, he tightened his grip on my hand and led me inside, with the rest of the entourage following closely behind.

The entire procession felt stiff and awkward to me, but I imagined this same ceremony must have played out centuries ago when King Alaric first seized the throne. Back then, no one would have considered it awkward at all.

Hadrian and I walked with guards flanking us on both sides, while Selene followed a few steps behind. At one point, I glanced back and found her eyes locked onto mine. The smirk she wore was unsettling, laced with a quiet cunning that sent a shiver down my spine. I had expected anger, even fury, but that expression hinted at something far more dangerous. Trouble was brewing—I could feel it.

We stepped into the grand throne hall, an imposing space lined with towering pillars and the presence of armed guards stationed in every corner. As we made our way forward, Hadrian leaned in close, his voice a quiet command.

"I will sit on the throne, and you will stand to my right. Stay silent, no matter what happens," he said firmly.

I nodded, my heart pounding in anticipation. Despite the fear clawing at my chest, I found some comfort in knowing that Gareth and Icarus were nearby, prepared to step in if necessary.

My eyes roamed the hall, taking in the vast crowd filling the space. Every movement was calculated, every whisper loaded with intent. As Hadrian ascended the podium, my breath caught at the sight of the towering throne—over ten feet tall, carved with intricate details that spoke of centuries of power. He took his seat with effortless dominance and gestured for me to stand where he had instructed. Offering a faint smile, I moved into place slightly behind him.

To my dismay, Selene followed us up the podium and positioned herself on Hadrian's left. Though he clicked his tongue in irritation, he said nothing to dismiss her. Instead, he turned his gaze away, letting her presence linger like an unwelcome shadow.

I inhaled deeply, trying to steady myself as more guests entered the hall. My gaze flickered toward Gareth and Icarus, standing on the right side, their reassuring presence a balm to my nerves. Icarus caught my eye and offered a small, encouraging smile, a silent reminder that I wasn't entirely alone.

Yet amid the sea of hostility, I noticed someone different.

He stood near the podium on the left side of the hall, watching me with a quiet curiosity that set him apart from the others. He was tall, with rich brown hair and striking blue eyes. His well-tailored suit accentuated his broad shoulders and muscular build, though his delicate facial features lent him an almost contradictory softness.

I couldn't help but notice the way his eyes occasionally darted to Selene, his gaze sharp and brimming with something unspoken.

Who was he? And why did he seem so fixated on the Princess?

As the hall filled with people, three officials strode down the center of the room, their footsteps purposeful. They stopped in front of Hadrian’s throne, bowing in unison, waiting for his permission to rise.

"You may rise," he said dismissively, waving a hand.

The officials straightened. All wore identical, suit-like uniforms, but the one in the middle held a sealed envelope. He extended his hands, offering the letter for all to see.

"This is King Alaric’s last will," the official began, his voice firm, "As the late king’s counselor, it is my duty to present his final wishes. By tradition, these wishes must be respected by the new king." He glanced at Selene, who nodded, a subtle but unmistakable message.

Hadrian’s brow furrowed, a frown twisting his lips. "I wasn’t informed of any additional requests when I visited the dying king." His voice carried a hint of irritation, as though this revelation was something entirely unexpected.

The counselor, undeterred, opened the envelope. The room fell silent, every person hanging on what would come next. Hadrian’s jaw clenched, his hands turning into fists at his sides. It was clear to everyone—someone had dared challenge his authority, forcing him to bend to some ancient tradition, one that carried the weight of centuries.

"I hereby declare Lord Protector Hadrian Kessler, son of Dorian Kessler, to be my heir," the counselor continued, the words heavy with finality. "I wish for him to show my children the respect they deserve and to provide them with land and accommodations befitting their station..." He paused, his eyes flickering toward Selene.

Her smile was pure malice, a sharp curve of her lips as she acknowledged the counselor’s glance. Then, with a glance toward me, she gave a brief, pointed smirk, her superiority clear. My teeth ground together, and a sinking feeling spread through me. I knew this wasn’t going to end well.

The counselor continued, his voice unwavering. "I wish for my half-blood son to be granted a place in the western wing of the castle. And I will grant the future king control over my personal army of fifty thousand, but only on one condition..."

The room held its breath.

"King Hadrian Kessler must marry my daughter, Selene Thorne, as his queen. Should he refuse, the army shall remain under her command." The counselor closed the document, his face betraying a hint of satisfaction, as though he knew the power he had just handed over.

A murmur rippled through the crowd, an undercurrent of surprise and uncertainty. My gaze flickered toward Hadrian, my heart in my throat, praying he would reject the offer—tell them to take their army and keep it. But instead, he clenched his teeth even harder, a smile creeping onto his face that was colder than ice.

Then, to my shock, he laughed.

The sound was chilling, a dark, unnerving cackle that echoed in the vast hall.

I couldn’t help but flinch, stepping back instinctively from the throne. The entire room froze at the unsettling sound of the king’s laughter, silence falling as quickly as it had come. The counselor’s voice faltered as he cleared his throat, his gaze dropping in submission.

"You... you must respect the late king’s wishes," he stammered, fear creeping into his tone.

Hadrian’s gaze shifted to his left, a silent command for Selene to step forward. She did so with a cool, calculated smirk, her confidence undeterred.

"Well played, Princess," Hadrian said, his voice dripping with icy amusement. "You knew that controlling the army would give you the true power in this kingdom. The army was never a point of discussion with King Alaric; it was always understood that it came with the crown."

Selene bowed slightly, her voice smooth as silk. "As King Hadrian pointed out, my father never saw the army as a topic for debate. It was something he built over centuries, and just before his death, he decided to leave it to me." Her explanation was met with murmurs of agreement, and the room nodded in approval.

My heart hammered in my chest, my breath shallow and erratic. My palms began to sweat as I rubbed them together, trying to steady myself. I was bracing for the worst, knowing the words I feared were about to be spoken.

Hadrian rose from the throne, his eyes sweeping across the hall with calculated precision. Princess Selene lowered her gaze, playing the part of the dutiful subject, her earlier attempt to assert dominance now masked by an expression of false deference.

Then, as if the weight of the moment wasn’t enough, Hadrian’s eyes met mine. Cold. Detached. There was no warmth, no trace of the man I thought I knew. His gaze was like a blade, slicing through the air, and in that instant, my chest tightened. My heart seemed to stop as a wave of suffocating pressure seized my lungs.

Tears welled in my eyes, and my mouth parted in a silent scream—a "No!" that I couldn’t voice.

Hadrian turned toward the crowd, his grip tightening around Selene’s hand.

"I am here to announce..." he began, his voice resonating with finality. "I shall marry Princess Selene, and she will be my queen."