WebNovels

Chapter 20 - Chapter 20

Josephine stood with her gaze fixed on the large, solid oak doors of the Princess Chamber, a habitual stiffness in her spine. The fatigue, a deep ache in her bones, spoke of decades spent navigating the perilous currents of the marriage market. She had seen too much life spill onto luxurious floors.

"How bad do you think it will be?" Josephine spoke, the question an exhale, directed at no one and everyone.

Her weathered hands rose, pressing gently against the slick-backed, low bun at the nape of her neck, a meticulous check of every strand—a ritual borne of years of service. Soon, she would finally retire. The thought was a soft promise against the hard ache in her heart for the princesses she'd failed to guide.

Mallory Fox's maid sighed, her eyes heavy with a wary dread. "They never do take a break, do they?" She shifted her weight, a nervous flick of her gaze toward the ominous doors. The thought of entering those chambers one day and not finding blood and death on the other side felt like a dream she couldn't quite grasp.

Lola bristled, feeling the older maids' sour tones deflate the day's excitement. The princesses were about to face a new, thrilling challenge to win their prince's affections! This was exciting. Yes, princesses died, but it was a necessary sacrifice for greatness. Rulers weren't simply born; reaching for something beyond the ordinary demanded significant sacrifice—often measured in drops of blood.

Lola clutched her hands behind her back, a knot of envy tightening in her stomach. Like the princesses, she had been born a woman, and if only her power had been slightly stronger, she would have been eligible for the marriage market. It could have been her potential queen. She was convinced the other maids' sour tones stemmed from their own lack of opportunity, not the bloodshed.

A rustle of robes announced a new presence. Hermes approached the clamoring gathering of maids, his movement quick and light.

"Good morning, ladies," Hermes said to the group huddled outside the Princess Chamber.

"Good morning, Lord Servant Hermes," the maids announced in practiced unison. They lifted the hems of their skirts, sinking into a low, deep bow to their superior.

Hermes lifted a hand, brushing it roughly across his brow. Sweat, a bead of thick moisture, had gathered there. He flicked it towards the ground in a negligent gesture.

A maid, Ida, had to quickly take a half-step back, caution evident in the slight pull of her head. Hermes was a demon from the demon kingdom, a lust demon like his Crown Prince, and his sweat was a volatile aphrodisiac. None of them wanted to be subjected to the humiliation of that sudden, all-consuming passion.

Ida bit down on her tongue, refusing to lash out at the Lord Servant. He was far above them, destined to be the King's attendant when Jasper took the throne. Getting on his bad side was unthinkable.

Patrick appeared, his black-rimmed eyes scanning the group as he moved to stand next to Hermes' shorter stature. He was only slightly taller than his own staff, standing about the same height as the maids.

"I heard there was a disturbance in the West Wing?" Patrick asked, his voice low.

The news was odd. Violence in the West Wing—the princes' domain—was premature. They were not yet permitted to indulge their darker delights.

Hermes shrugged, a dismissive wave of his hand following the motion. "Only a mild squabble amongst future kings." He wasn't worried about petty squabbles. The unpleasant task of disposing of dead bodies was his main concern. He truly didn't intend to spend his nights listening to the carnal passions of the Crown Prince, then dragging another corpse from his room to be used by the necromancers, only to repeat the cycle every few hours. He was a demon, but he could become utterly exhausted, and the Prince was testing his limits. Yet, he had no recourse for a lustful Prince.

"Be prepared! I have a feeling it will be a very busy day," Hermes sighed, turning sharply on his heel. He strode down the hall, taking his leave to wait for his Prince to awaken.

Patrick inclined his head to the ladies. "Ladies." He then headed off to the Servants' Hall to grab a bite to eat. It would be a few hours yet before the princesses were ready for the morning's activities.

Ida watched Patrick walk away, her lips curling into a soft smile. "He is rather handsome, isn't he?" she mused. He was so tall, and he had the most beautiful red eyes.

Lola's lip turned up in confusion. Patrick? He was old—not sexy old, just middle-aged old. His hair was thinning and unlikely to ever recover. He was tall but skinny. As a vampire, he was undoubtedly strong, but he didn't look it. Lola could not see what Ida saw. Yet, Ida always seemed to admire him whenever he entered the room.

Lola shrugged, pulling herself back to stand with the group of maids. "I guess you're both old!"

Ida screeched, eyes wide in offense. "Old! You brat, you dare call me old!" She stepped forward, her hands clenching, ready to throttle the young girl.

Lola yelped and quickly dodged behind Josephine.

"Stop!" Josephine commanded, holding up a steady hand to halt Ida's momentum.

Ida huffed, pulling her hands back to her sides. "You will not always be lucky enough to have Josephine here," she spat, then crossed her arms, standing next to the only one of the three who was actually elderly. Ida considered herself merely middle-aged.

All eyes turned back to the large oak doors. The two guards, standing sentry on either side, nodded to each other—a silent signal that the moment had arrived. With practiced ease, they pushed the doors inward, a welcoming gesture to the gaggle of maids.

The large oak doors creaked open as they revealed the vast breakfast area. Patrick was the first to step inside, creating a path for the princesses to crowd into the room behind him.

Some of the princes had already arrived, but the Supreme King and Queen were still absent.

Unlike normal, Daniela was unable to be the last to enter the breakfast hall. The other princesses wouldn't move until she had left the chamber. She understood their reticence, given the state of the room when she had woken up.

The legs of her bed had been saturated in blood. The air in the room was thick with the scent of decomposition—rotting meat with a sickening undertone of sweetness. It was disgusting.

The moment she was woken, she had instantly chosen to leave the chamber for her bath. By the time she had returned, the numerous bodies had been removed, and the floors cleaned once more, gleaming in pristine white.

With the cleansing of the room came a palpable tension. The room seemed to unify against her. Old alliances and factions had dissolved, replaced by a common enemy, it would seem.

As she stepped across the threshold into the breakfast hall, her eyes found Jasper, who was speaking to his father and mother. It was as if he sensed her entrance; his eyes flicked over to her. Their gazes connected, and she felt a deep vibration in her chest. She wasn't sure if it was the oath or the God's Gift, but something within her always responded to him.

He looked troubled, his face pulled taut. Something had happened. She would have to ask him about it later. Until then, she inclined her head, offering him a mild and casual polite bow.

Daniela floated around the room, her fingers trailing over the backs of various chairs, weighing her options for a seat.

Jasper watched her flit about. She seemed to be the focus of not just his attention, but all the other women's. He felt invisible today; their eyes didn't follow him, nor did they rush over, eager for his acknowledgment. No. One would think Daniela was the Prince, as all the women watched her every move.

"Good morning!" Miguel decided to approach the one princess who didn't seem oblivious to his presence. He walked over and spoke a quiet but kind word to Daniela. "I like the smell on you," he complimented her.

It was early, but Daniela had already deployed her flirty smile. She looked at him over her shoulder. "Good morning, Prince Miguel. You look exceptionally tall," she returned the awkward compliment, unsure why he would comment on her scent. If not for the mask that obscured any emotional register on his face, she wasn't sure how the comment would land. With the mask, however, he looked bland and unassuming.

"Hum," Miguel grunted, unable to think of anything more to say. The sound seemed to conclude their short conversation, and he moved to find his seat.

Daniela watched as some of the princesses took their chance, crowding into the seats next to Miguel, leaving room for his parents' chairs.

Daniela still remained on her feet, continuing to survey the room. She was soon entranced by the large windows that opened onto the balcony. With a sense of purpose, she walked over to them.

"Danny, can we talk, please?"

Daniela did not need to turn to know the voice. It was Eric. She hated the nickname, a sick, torturous sound that recalled a false, painful past. Yet, the onyx pendant beneath her dress was a steady, cold anchor, easily quashing the reflexive fear.

"Of course."

Eric's manservant quickly pushed the doors to the balcony open. Daniela glided past the Prince, stepping into the fresh air, and the heavy doors thudded closed behind them. The sound was a final, damning noise, trapping them in a moment Daniela already wished to escape.

"Why do I feel like you are just so different? I feel like this marriage market has made us strangers!" Eric released the words, a tight edge to his voice. He had spent years cultivating gentle friendship, the hours by her side meant to secure her. But Jasper had simply swooped in. The thought was a flare of scalding rage.

Daniela turned fully to face him, her hands tightly coiled behind her back. "May I be honest?" she asked.

He gave a sharp nod, urging her to continue.

"You seem as if there's something you wish to get off your chest. And I do not require this preamble. You can be honest." The quicker he spoke his mind, the quicker she could be away. It wasn't as hard anymore. She remembered previous lives when his sight would induce panic. Now, she stood before him, only the rise of hatred, burning bright as ever, affecting her. Everything else was muted. In this new light, he did not look as colossal.

"Why him!" It was the one thing Eric could not comprehend—the inexplicable ease with which she and Jasper seemed to communicate, a connection that had always eluded him.

Daniela had not expected this raw, confused question. In her previous lives, he always demanded her love, confused and angry. This was eerily calm. "Why do birds fly? It's just—"

"Can you not provide an answer?" He felt irritated by her flippancy. Attachment was not some simple law of nature. It angered him that she thought he was so stupid.

"Have you ever met someone, and everything just clicked? Felt like you've known them for a lifetime, and in one look, you know. That they are the one you want to spend your life with."

"Then be my Queen! We love each other. I don't care that you cannot use magic. I have enough for both of us." He needed her to understand that he was the superior option, the one who had made himself perfect for her.

"He doesn't tell me what is in my mind," Daniela told him firmly, her eyes hardening on him. He always presumed he knew exactly what she thought and how she should think. It was the core problem with obsessive people like him: they didn't love anyone; they only wanted to possess and control them like marionette dolls.

"I refuse to believe that there's anything true between you. He sees you as another maiden to bed! Every night he's with a new woman. Can you speak to me with stars in your eyes?" He could feel his anger surging. She was confused, brainwashed, the only logical explanation.

"I didn't say he was perfect. I said something clicked. I don't know if it's love. But I will love him," she said, deliberately making her voice sound airy and light, the tone of someone on the verge of blissful infatuation. She wanted to provoke the monster beneath the gentleman's mask.

Eric lurched forward, closing the distance in a sudden rush. "I was the one by your side for years when you were confined to that chair! You owe me this!" His voice rose to a shout as his hands clamped onto her forearms, gripping them painfully tight. "No one else! Me! And this is how you thank me? With betrayal!"

Daniela winced, trying to take a step back, but his hold was steel. The low simmer of fear in her chest began to rise, a sharp, bubbling need to scream catching in her throat. "I didn't know your kindness, had a cost attached," she ground out, knowing the price of everything with Eric was always astronomical.

Eric's façade completely shattered. His eyes, normally red, immediately deepened to a corrosive crimson. The power in her onyx pendant pulsed, and a wave of force pushed against his arms. As he stumbled a few steps back, a wash of black, churning smoke materialized between them, creating a solid wall. He noticed the wall, and his fury intensified.

The tips of his fingernails pressed viciously into the palm of his left hand. Blood immediately welled up and began to drip down toward the tiled floor of the balcony. But before the drops could touch the ground, they floated back upwards toward his palm, coalescing into a swirl of crimson power. Daniela watched the dark-red mist bloom from his clenched fist—the volatile genesis of his blood magic.

"He's a monster! And you allowed his filthy hands to touch you," his voice had deepened to a near whisper, its impact lethal. "He's a monster, you know that right!"

Daniela looked to her upper arm where his palm prints were stark, angry redness against her skin. "And yet, I have your bruises on my arm."

"He will do so much worse to you! And you will come begging at my feet," he spat, his head tilted in menace.

Daniela met his gaze in serene silence. She had heard these hollow threats countless times. She watched his fangs begin to lengthen, pushing past his lips. The blood magic around him swirled heavy and thick.

"You think I have no power, and yet your magic swirls around me as if you would kill me. If this is your attempt at charming me, you have failed," she said, letting a few calculated tears slip down her cheeks as her green eyes met his blood-red ones.

"Danny! I just! I got a bit upset—"

She watched his blood magic immediately dissipate as he fought for control, his tone softening in a desperate retreat to his gentle mask. He reached out to touch her, but she deftly avoided his hands.

"I must go back!" Giving him a polite bow, she turned her back on him. As her footfalls began to carry her away, Eric lunged to grab her, only to collide with the solid, shadow-wall that threw him back with crushing force.

"You will not choose that demon! I would rather see you dead than with Jasper!" he roared, just before the servants could pull the door open.

Daniela's footfalls paused, and her body tensed. But she did not turn around or say a word to him. There was no point.

Jasper's eyes tracked Daniela as she left the balcony. He wanted to tear Eric's arms from his shoulders for daring to touch what was his. His gaze traveled to her arms, noting the faint red marks on her shoulders—a sign that Eric would not escape his punishment easily. As Daniela's maids swarmed her, cleaning the manufactured tears from her face, she turned back to the room. Her normal, sultry smile returned to her lips. Their eyes connected, and this time, he saw the deep, chilling mischief. She winked at him before returning her attention to her maids.

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