The heavy double door of the study slammed shut, rattling the paintings on the wall and sealing the tension within the room.
"I searched every name in this castle, including the maids," Charles stated, his voice tight with frustration,
"but there isn't anyone with the name Anastasia."
Azriel didn't turn from the tall, gothic window he was staring out of, his silhouette stark against the weak afternoon light.
"You didn't check correctly. I heard them yesterday."
"Then why didn't you just confront them when you had the chance to?" Charles demanded, stepping further into the room.
Azriel gripped the edge of the windowsill until his knuckles turned white.
"Zain interrupted my thinking." The confession was ripped from him, laced with a raw edge of contained fury.
That fury turned to ice as he issued an order that chilled the air further: "Have Zain beaten without mercy tonight."
"Don't be so quick to jump to conclusions with that temper," Charles cautioned, a note of genuine worry entering his tone.
"Why are you so worked up about some random girl? It's unlike you."
Azriel groaned in frustration, running a hand through his dark hair.
"I don't know, to be honest. But when I heard her voice... it was filled with pain and suffering. She wants someone who will protect her. I want to be that someone."
Charles was genuinely puzzled. This level of protective instinct was unprecedented for his ruthless brother.
"You want to protect this girl? Why?"
"It's not clear yet. It feels like I'm... like I'm connected to her somehow." Azriel finally turned, his silver eyes haunted.
"When I heard the pain in her voice, it felt like my demons wanted to jump out and kill whosoever is making her scared."
A slow, unsettling realization dawned on Charles. "You share a bond with this person... Brother, I think you've found your mate. Your match made directly from the heavens."
"Don't be absurd, there's no such thing as a destined lover," Azriel scoffed, though the denial lacked his usual conviction.
"How can you say that? Even your demons know the truth, yet you choose to deny it." Charles shook his head.
"It's just infatuation, it will blow over soon," Azriel remarked, repeating a line he'd once used to dismiss another fleeting fancy, but this time, the words rang hollow.
"You haven't felt this way for any woman, not even Luna, and you're calling this a mere flight of infatuation? You must have gone terribly mad."
Azriel clearly remembered her voice. It was sweet and tender, but had sadness behind it.
He could smell her perfume even now, though she was nowhere near—something sweet, delicious, and far more dangerous than he had ever wanted.
He felt this magnetic pull from her scent; he wanted to know who she was so badly, but reality had other plans.
"It doesn't matter, I can't find her. She's just another dream," Azriel said in defeat, the tremor in his voice exposing his vulnerability.
"I have checked the records of everything and everyone who came in and went out of the castle yesterday and this morning," Charles confirmed quietly.
"It sickens me... is this what it feels like to lose someone?" Azriel asked, visibly trembling, a sight Charles had never before witnessed.
Charles stepped close to him, sitting beside him. "Nobody is losing anybody. I promise you, I'll find her if it's the last thing I do."
Azriel clasped both his hands, trying to stop them from shaking uncontrollably.
"I can't stand you like this, it's disturbing." Charles forced a laugh, trying to lighten up the already tense moment. "I think I need to invite Rose to help with this matter."
"No... No... Anything, anyone but Rose," Azriel protested instantly.
"I'm sorry, I sent a letter to her this morning already requesting her presence tomorrow," Charles said with a shrug.
Azriel groaned in displeasure. Rose was his little stepsister, a woman who didn't take no for an answer, and an unparalleled investigator of the supernatural and the uncanny.
"Why would you take such decisions without consulting me?"
"Since when do I need to consult you to invite your sister over? It's been ages since we saw her and your niece. Also, she's the one that can handle this," Charles said, gesturing to Azrie.
"How long would she be staying?" Azriel asked, resigning himself to his fate.
"Beats me," Charles said with a shrug.
"I'll have her castle ready before tomorrow," Azriel said in defeat.
"You're such a great big brother." Charles gave Azriel a thumbs up, a small smile playing on his lips, hoping
Rose could solve the mystery of the woman Azriel was already bound to—a woman who existed only in voice and scent, a woman whose name, Anastasia, had been erased from the world of the living.
Meanwhile, Anastasia just finished her class. When she went to pick up some apples nearby with Hannah, they were both cornered by a bunch of knights wearing an unfamiliar royal crest.
Anastasia instinctively stood in front of Hannah, shielding her.
"You will not touch her. If you do, I'll kill all of you," Anastasia said menacingly, her transformation from a timid girl to a fierce protector complete.
A light chuckle was heard from behind them. The knights made way for a man in his fifties, wearing a crown, coming toward them. Gabriella stood beside this man.
"Father, this is the girl I've been telling you about. Guinevere, the one who saved me."
"Good afternoon, Your Majesty. To what do I owe this surprise?" Anastasia said meekly.
"You protected my only joy, the treasure I can never regain if lost. For that..."
The King, overwhelmed with gratitude, bowed on one knee to the shock of his entourage.
Every one of his knight including Gabriella fell on their knees.
"I owe you my life," he said, his voice thick with gratitude. "Everything I have is yours. Whatever you need, name it, I'll give it to you."
"Your Majesty, please stand," Anastasia said, trying to get him to stand up. "You are disgracing your title."
"This title means nothing if I no longer have my daughter. Name whatever you want; if it's half my castle or my kingdom, you shall have it."
"I didn't do this for a reward, Your Majesty," Anastasia insist
"I did it because it was the right thing to do." Anastasia said, tears prickling her eyes.
"I'd admit, at first I wanted to save her and kill myself, but something stopped me. I didn't save her just to be rewarded, Your Majesty; I did it because it was the right thing to do. So please stand, I don't want half of your kingdom."
"For this act of kindness, I shall give you a home in my castle," he said, standing up and embracing her. "You are welcome to stay anytime, not as a guest, but as family."
Anastasia walked up to her room later, pinching her cheeks to make sure she wasn't dreaming.
She had unintentionally charmed her way into the hearts of Charles and Gabriella's father.
She bumped into Charles in the hallway. "Jesus, Guinevere, what are you thinking about?"
"I was thinking about what I'll have for lunch today," Anastasia lied smoothly.
"We have to talk," Charles said in a serious voice. The expression on his face made her uncomfortable; it looked like he knew something she didn't.
He led her to a beautiful building used for a picnic and gestured for her to sit.
He cleared his throat. "Look, I'm going to keep this simple and short."
"It's not what you think, I can explain!" Anastasia blurted out, covering her mouth instantly.
"What the hell are you talking about? I haven't said anything..." Charles was stunned. He hadn't yet mentioned the mysterious person, the bond, or his brother's dark obsession.
"What the hell?.... Why are you tensed"
"I thought... You... Nevermind..." Anastasia pulled her hands from her face, forcing a composure she didn't feel.
"Sorry for interrupting, please continue."
Luckily, Charles, preoccupied with his own thoughts, didn't pay much attention to her strange outburst.
He shifted his weight, his gaze distant as he focused on the predicament of his brother. "Look, my brother is looking for someone. I was wondering if you could use your powers to find them."
Anastasia stiffened. "I don't have powers."
"Look, you're the only one I could think of," Charles sincerely said, clearly grasping at straws in the face of Azriel's uncharacteristic distress.
"If you're looking for someone, why not hire someone... maybe a professional who specializes in this kind of things?" she suggested, desperate to redirect his attention away from her own uncanny abilities and the mystery surrounding them.
"I haven't thought about it like that before," Charles admitted, running a hand through his hair.
A heavy silence settled between them before Anastasia broke it, her curiosity a dangerous thing.
"By the way, who is this person your brother wants to find so badly?"
"Anastasia," Charles replied simply.
The single name hit Anastasia with the force of a physical blow. The blood drained from her face, and for a moment, her entire world tilted. None of her organs seemed to work.
"He said he heard her talking to someone by my sister's castle but was too busy to see her face. I've checked everywhere, everyone. But there's no one by that name," Charles continued, oblivious to the girl's internal horror.
Anastasia remembered talking to Hannah about being careful. Hannah must have said her name, but she had been so sure no one was around.
Now she had ruined her own life by encouraging him to find her. The danger Azriel represented was a dark, magnetic pull she had only just begun to understand, a force that hunted the unseen.
"She must be a fraction of an imagination," Anastasia suggested, trying to sound logical while her heart hammered against her ribs.
"Maybe a fraction of something he looks for in a woman to make him more protective."
"Are you saying it must have been a ghost?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.
"Most likely," was all Anastasia could manage to say.
"Azriel isn't one who believes in ghosts," Charles said, but the conviction in his voice was fading fast.
"Looking for this person is like chasing the clouds into the sea," Anastasia said, hoping the poetic imagery would discourage him entirely.
Charles left her eventually, promising to reconsider her methods.
Anastasia sat on a bench, She rubbed her face in disbelief, the cool skin of her palms doing nothing to slow her racing mind.
How could the Emperor be looking for Anastasia? What could he possibly want?
"I have got to be careful," she whispered into the empty air, the weight of a powerful man's obsessive search settling onto her shoulders like a physical shroud.
"Any wrong move and I lose my life."