CHAPTER 29 — THE KING SEES EVERYTHING
Leona barely made it three streets away before the illusion shattered.
The borrowed cloak itched against her skin, heavy with the scent of another woman. Her hair was hidden beneath a dull scarf, her face smudged with ash and dirt, her posture lowered to blend among the commoners moving through the outer market road. She walked fast but not too fast, keeping her head down, her heart pounding so loudly she was certain someone would hear it.
Freedom was right there.
So close she could taste it.
Then the world stopped.
A pressure settled over the street—thick, cold, suffocating. Conversations faltered. Footsteps slowed. Even the wind seemed to hesitate.
Leona froze.
She didn't need to turn around to know.
His presence wrapped around her like a shadow with teeth.
"Well," the Vampire King said calmly from behind her, "this is disappointing."
Her breath hitched.
She turned slowly, dread crawling up her spine.
He stood in the middle of the street like he had always belonged there, dark cloak flowing as if untouched by dust or crowd. Red eyes scanned her disguise with quiet amusement, then lifted to her face.
"You changed clothes," he continued. "Covered your scent. Lowered your gaze. Almost clever."
Almost.
Leona dropped to her knees instantly, terror overriding pride. "My king—I—"
"You ran," he interrupted softly.
The word struck harder than a slap.
"I didn't authorize that."
Guards appeared out of nowhere, surrounding them in a perfect circle. The market crowd scattered like frightened birds.
Leona trembled. This was it. This was where she died.
Instead, the king studied her for a long moment, his gaze sharp, unreadable.
"Take her back," he said finally. "No chains."
The guards hesitated.
"No chains," he repeated, voice colder now. "I want her to remember this."
The punishment was not what Leona expected.
She was not beaten. Not starved. Not locked away.
She was made to kneel in the throne hall for hours while courtiers passed, whispers curling around her like smoke. She was stripped of her borrowed clothes and dressed again in servant gray—clean, simple, unmistakable.
Humiliated. Seen.
The king watched from his throne, silent, unmoving.
When her legs finally buckled and she swayed, a guard moved to help her—
"Let her stand," the king said.
So she did.
When it was over, when the hall emptied and the echoes faded, he descended the steps slowly until he stood before her.
"You are not stupid," he said quietly. "That is why this will be your only punishment."
Leona kept her eyes on the floor.
"You will continue your duties," he went on. "But you will be watched. Every step. Every breath. If you attempt to flee again…"
He leaned closer.
"I won't be gentle."
She nodded, tears blurring her vision. "Yes, my king."
For a moment, his gaze lingered on her—too long to be impersonal, too controlled to be kind.
Then he turned away.
That night, Leona could barely stand when she reached the servants' quarters.
Talia was waiting.
She rushed forward the moment she saw Leona's pale face and shaking hands. "Oh gods—Leona."
"I tried," Leona whispered, voice breaking as Talia pulled her into a tight embrace. "I really thought—"
"I know," Talia said softly, stroking her hair. "I know."
They sat together on the narrow bed, Talia holding her while Leona cried silently into her shoulder. The stone walls felt closer than ever.
"He didn't hurt you," Talia said after a while, cautious. "That means something."
"It means I belong to him now," Leona murmured.
Talia didn't argue.
Instead, she squeezed her hand. "Then we survive. One day at a time."
Leona nodded weakly, staring at the flickering candlelight.
She didn't know that far away, beneath layers of stone and darkness, a man named Marvin lay awake in his cell, staring at the ceiling, haunted by the same feeling.
That escape was never meant to succeed.
Not yet.