Claimed by the vampire prince

Chapter 109: Chapter 109

"Enter," King Zeriel said, stern and clipped.

Hairan dropped his head into a deep bow the moment he stepped into his father’s private study. The room smelled faintly of ink and beeswax, warmth lingering from the hearth.

The king’s gaze, however, was fixed on the open parchment spread across his heavy, ornate desk, more focused on the word scrawled across its page than on the son standing before him.

"Speak, Hairan. I do not have all day to waste." His father’s voice carried the same cool impatience he always wore; even now he did not spare his son a glance.

Hairan clenched his jaw, feeling the old, familiar sting of being dismissed. Weeks had passed since they had last spoken, despite sharing the same palace roof, and now that they faced one another, his father didn’t even acknowledge him.

The king treated him like an inconvenience he was eager to be done with.

It had always been that way, and the chances of it changing were slim. Zeriel’s indifference was not reserved for Hairan alone but applied to all his children. That very indifference was the ember that fed the princes’ shared contempt for their father.

With decades of being treated like that, it was little wonder why each prince held some measure of disdain for the king; that shared resentment was perhaps the one trait binding the four of them together.

Even while still bent in deference, Hairan felt that same contempt rise in him, hot and fast. It was a confusing thing, to hate so fiercely and yet still hunger for the smallest scrap of approval. The longing for his father’s validation sat like an ache on his sternum.

"Your Majesty," Hairan said, straightening to his full height. He kept his voice steady. "I wish to return to active duty."

Months earlier, before the siege on Westeria, Hairan had completely gone off the rails. Completely crazed, as some would describe him at the time and yet not quite the right word either.

When the tragic news had reached the palace, Hairan had ordered the men under his command to sweep the streets of the capital and the outlying provinces, seizing and rounding up anyone suspected of being Westerian.

Men, women, children, none were spared. It was an abuse of power born of grief and a need for revenge. He had thought it justice, a way to punish the kingdom that had taken from him, but all his actions did was sow terror and disorder amongst the people.

No one had blamed him for it, given that he and most of the palace had been in mourning at the time. They had all excused his actions.

But it didn’t stop him from being indefinitely suspended from all his royal and administrative duties. frёeωebɳovel.com

"Why now?" the king asked, sounding scarcely less indifferent than before. It was almost a miracle that he had given a response at all.

"I have been away long enough," Hairan replied simply.

King Zeriel hummed once, a small, almost bored sound. Silence stretched between them like a tightened cord until the king finally broke it.

"No one is forcing you back yet," Zeriel said. For a second Hairan thought he heard concern in his father’s tone, but he knew better. It couldn’t have been concern, not where the king was involved.

"You were suspended for a reason, Hairan. Much of that is still unresolved." He reminded him.

The words carried everything the king would not say aloud

How could anyone be sure Hairan wouldn’t go off the rails again? It wasn’t like he had done much to prove the doubts wrong.

To this day Hairan still held firm to his stance that he hadn’t done anything wrong. To him, his actions had seemed justified.

"We were not even married," he felt the need to remind his father. The matter had been serious then, but not enough for him never to be reinstated.

"It didn’t stop you from doing what you did." When King Zeriel finally glanced at him, it was with a bored look. "Your anger was justified, but your actions were not. But you are right, it has been long enough."

"Father, if I may be so bold," Hairan said. He kept his expression blank and unreadable, arms rigid by his sides. "I wish to oversee the rebuilding of our newest colony."

" You wish to go to Westeria?" the king asked.

Hairan dipped his head in a curt nod. "Yes, your majesty." He did not give any further explanation.

"And are you aware of the risks? Rebel groups are popping up across the kingdom, people loyal to their former king even in death. Men and women who are openly opposing the occupation." King Zeriel spoke seriously. "Those are people who wouldn’t hesitate to attack a member of this family."

Hairan couldn’t help the slight quirk of his lip. "Yes, I’m quite aware."

His father gave him a long, hard look before speaking. "Very well. I will take your request into consideration and let you know when I have decided. If that is all, you may leave."

"Thank you, your majesty." Hairan bowed and turned toward the door.

As he shut it behind him, he almost collided with Laheir, who stood in the corridor with a small, approving smile. Laheir stepped forward and clapped a large hand on Hairan’s shoulder.

"Iliana would be so proud of what you’re doing," Laheir said softly, a hint of pride shining through his words. He stepped even closer. "Do not let anyone talk you out of this."

For a moment they simply regarded one another, two men bound by grief, and by the loss of someone they had both cared for.

Laheir was supposed to be his father-in-law after Hairan’s wedding to Iliana had it not been for the wicked Westerian people and their ruthless king.

Something unspoken passed between them.

"I will burn it down and everyone in it," Hairan said, and realized that he had never looked forward to anything more.