"I was begining to wondering when you would come to welcome me," a voice purred from the dark room.
"A welcome late an early welcome all is a welcome, Your Majesty. And if I had followed Lady Vivian earlier, I doubt you would've even noticed me," Joline whined—her voice soft and sweet, a shocking contrast to the venom she had used on Bella earlier.
Damien flicked his fingers, and the room lit up instantly. Joline leaned against the wall, arms folded, her pose deliberately seductive. With the light on, she saw Damien seated shirtless behind his massive desk, his muscles relaxed, expression bored as he flipped through papers.
"I wouldn't miss that red hair anywhere," Damien said, his deep voice unusually gentle. "Come here."
Joline scrunched her nose, pretending to disagree, though her feet carried her forward.
"After disappearing for days, you show up with a new lover?" she muttered accusingly.
"If you hadn't framed my bloodfeeder, there wouldn't have been an empty spot to fill," he replied simply.
Joline's mouth fell open in offense. "Still… why her? I don't like the feeling she gives me," she whispered, her voice losing its boldness as she reached him. She slid onto his lap gracefully. He wrapped an arm around her waist without looking up, as if the gesture was habit.
"You're jealous?" Damien teased.
Joline—who never seemed to fear competition—pouted. No matter how many women shared his bed, she always acted as though she owned a piece of him. And she wasn't wrong. He always came back.
"There's only so much a woman like me can take," she murmured. "I'm human… and I'm ageing fast."
"Aging?" he chuckled, slipping a hand beneath her dress. "Your body says otherwise."
Their lips met in a hungry kiss. She moaned softly as he lifted her onto the desk, already reaching to unbuckle his trousers—
A sudden knock shattered the moment.
Joline groaned loudly, irritated. Damien smirked and gave her one last slow kiss before straightening.
"Come in."
A guard peeked in nervously.
"Your Majesty… forgive the interruption. Lady Vivian is here."
Damien's expression immediately hardened. "Let her in."
Lady Vivian stepped inside with perfect posture and lowered eyes. Her beauty was cold, refined, controlled. But her smile wavered the moment she saw Joline sitting on Damien's desk—dress rumpled, lips swollen, hair tangled from his touch.
A flash of jealousy—sharp and poisonous—lit Vivian's eyes before she forced her composure back into place.
"Damien," she said calmly, though her fingers tightened on the documents in her hand. "I have news you'll want to hear."
"Have a seat," he said, taking his.
Joline smirked triumphantly and slid back onto his lap, deliberately cozying herself against him.
"Lady Vivian always knows the perfect time to bring business, doesn't she?" Joline taunted sweetly.
Vivian didn't let the smile leave her face, though the hatred behind it was unmistakable. While Damien was gone, she had worked tirelessly to maintain the palace, acting as the future queen. Meanwhile, Joline had done nothing but lounge around and mock her—far below her station, yet untouchable under Damien's protection. Vivian had once tried to put the human in her place, but Niles had stopped her… and even warned her.
"Your Majesty, this is confidential information," Vivian said with a brief, icy glare at Joline. "I hope we can have privacy."
Damien sighed. "Fine. Leave us for a moment."
Joline slid off his lap but not without leaning close to whisper something in his ear—loud enough for Vivian to hear. Then she left with a smug sway of her hips.
The door closed.
"So," Damien said, folding his arms. "The Night Walker?"
"Yes." Vivian forced her eyes away from his bare chest and focused on his face. This was the Damien she always saw—cold, distant, formal. And no matter how she denied it, Joline received the warmth she never did.
"The two human villages in the east were attacked. There were no survivors, so we couldn't get witness accounts. And the infected ones… we had no choice but to kill them."
"You already wrote that in the letter you sent," Damien said coolly. "Is that the only reason you came?"
Vivian shook her head and placed another envelope on the desk.
"There is an invitation to the West's banquet. King Collins sent it."
"Reject it."
"Your Majesty," she insisted softly, "this could be an opportunity to learn more. Every spy sent to the West never returned. And I heard they may go to war with the East soon. Ever since King Collins took his witch bride, their lands have grown stronger."
"What about my cousin? Did he request help?"
"The East seems stable for now. If he needs assistance, I'm sure he'll reach out."
"When will the banquet take place?"
"By the end of this month."
"Prepare everything. And about my bloodfeeder—have her tested as soon as possible."
Vivian stiffened. Bella.
She had been planning to sabotage the girl, but her head maid had advised otherwise. Bella might be useful—especially against Joline. If those two clashed, or if Damien's attention shifted, Vivian would benefit.
"While you were gone," Vivian continued carefully, "the court grew concerned about our marriage. My father calmed them, but with the war rumors, everyone is on edge."
"So should I marry a witch too?" Damien asked flatly.
"No, Your Majesty."
She had only wanted to remind him of their long-delayed union—fearing that if things continued, Joline might get pregnant… before she ever became queen.
"Then they should focus on finding out who's summoning those Night Walkers," he said dismissively. "We're done here."
Vivian bowed, hiding the storm in her chest.
And for the first time in a long while, she wondered if becoming queen would ever mean she truly belonged to him.