Chapter 8 THE QUEEN.

Chapter 8 THE QUEEN.

Seren’s POV

The luxury of the Royal Wing was an insult.

The scent of expensive jasmine in the air couldn’t mask the copper tang of blood still caught in my throat. 

I stood before a floor-to-ceiling mirror, staring at the woman looking back.

She looked like a queen. She felt like a  criminal. 

The jagged scar on my shoulder was a violent red brand, a reminder of the obsidian blade I had driven into my own flesh to keep from murdering the man I was fated to love. 

My father was dead. Prince Aiden was in chains on a ship to the Iron Isles. And I was standing in the heart of the palace, dressed in a gown that cost more than my entire village.

"You're overthinking again."

The voice was a rumble that vibrated through the my body and settled directly in my chest.

Draven stood in the doorway. He had washed away the blood and the gore, but he couldn't wash away that predator look. 

He was dressed in a black tunic that strained against the broad of his shoulders, the top buttons undone to reveal the bandages where the silver bolt had pierced him. He looked like every dark fantasy I had ever been warned about.

"I’m wondering when they start coming," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

I didn't turn around. I watched his reflection as he crossed the room "The Council is in shambles. Your son is exiled. The Northern Lords are probably already mobilizing their armies because their King chose a peasant girl over a his council."

Draven stopped directly behind me. He didn't touch me—not yet but the heat radiating from him was everywhere. It wrapped around me,  demanding my attention.

"They can mobilize until the sun burns out," Draven rasped. He reached out, his large, scarred hand hovering over the curve of my neck before his fingers finally made contact.

My breath hitched, my back arching instinctively toward him.

"You're not a peasant girl, Seren," he whispered, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw with  tenderness. "You're the Alpha King’s mate. You are the only thing in this world I am not willing to lose. If they want a war over that, I’ll give them a massacre."

"Is that your solution for everything? Violence?" I turned in his arms, my hands finding the hard planes of his chest. The bond surged, a molten current that made my knees weak.

Draven’s eyes darkened. He grabbed my waist, his grip bruisingly tight, and hauled me flush against him. The friction of his body against mine was a drug I was already addicted to.

"I am a King, Seren. I didn't get this throne by asking nicely." He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. "And I didn't find you just to let some pompous Lords take you away because of 'tradition.' I’ve spent twenty-five years being the King they wanted. Now, I’m going to be the man I was born to be."

"And who is that?" I breathed.

He pulled back just enough to look me in the eye. The vulnerability there was gone, replaced by a determination. "The one who owns you. Body, heart, and soul."

He didn't give me a chance to argue. He crushed his mouth to mine, the kiss a brutal, beautiful collision of teeth and tongue. It tasted of cedar and obsession. My hands tangled in his dark hair, pulling him closer, needing to disappear into the raw feeling of him.

The palace was a graveyard. The kingdom was a ticking bomb. But as he pressed me back against the cold glass of the mirror, his hands roaming my body with a frantic hunger, I didn't care about the world outside.

I was the Queen of a ruin. And I had never felt more alive.

The  doors of the chamber suddenly burst open.

I scrambled back, my heart hammering against my ribs. Draven didn't move an inch, stepping in front of me to shield my half-dressed form from view. 

"This had better be worth your life, Captain," Draven spat.

The Captain of the Black Guard stood in the doorway, his face ashen, his armor dented. He didn't look like a man who had won a battle. He looked like a man who had seen a ghost.

"Your Majesty," he gasped, dropping to one knee. "The South Gate has fallen."

Draven stiffened. "The militia? They shouldn't have the strength—"

"It wasn't the militia, Sire." The Captain looked up, his eyes wide with  terror. "The Necromancers... they didn't just target the palace. They’ve raised the Outer Wards. The dead are walking the streets of your kingdom, Alpha. And they’re being led by someone who looks exactly like the late Queen."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Draven’s grip on the edge of the vanity was so tight the wood began to splinter. The Queen—his wife had been dead for a quarter of a century.

I looked at the scar on my shoulder, the purple bruising. The Void hadn't been defeated. It had just been waiting for the sun to go down.

"She’s calling for you, Alpha," the Captain whispered. "She says if you don't bring her the girl, she’ll burn the Wards to ash with everyone still inside."

Draven turned to me, the obsession was still there, but now it was warring with a devastating grief.

My home. My people. The only life I had ever known before I was sold was being used as bait.

"Draven," I said, my voice cracking.

He walked to the wall, grabbing the King’s Blade. The light of the sword flared, white and blinding, reflecting in the gold of his eyes.

"Lock the door, Seren," he commanded, his voice devoid of emotion. "Don't open it for anyone. Not even me."

"You can't go out there alone!"

He paused at the door, looking back at me one last time. 

"I’m not going out there to talk, Seren. I’m going to kill my past so I can have a future with you."

He slammed the door, the lock clicking with a finality that chilled me to the bone.

I stood in the center of the room, the jasmine scent now smelling like rot. 

I wasn't going to sit here and wait for him to die. 

I looked at the obsidian dagger lying on the floor.

The peasant girl was gone. But the survivor? She was just getting started.