Claimed by the vampire prince

Chapter 110: Chapter 110

The feeling that washed over him whenever he entered the palace never changed. It was as if the very walls bled with animosity, seeping outward and pressing in on him from each side.

He forced himself to block it all out and concentrate instead on the purpose that had brought him here, the business he had no choice but to attend to. freewebnσvel.cøm

His father had summoned him to court.

Climbing down from his horse, Ragnar handed the reins to a waiting stable hand. One quick glance at the sprawling, perfectly manicured lawns was all it took for him to remember how little he wanted to be here.

He would rather trek across the unforgiving Azairen desert, with the sand chafing against his skin, than spend even a single minute surrounded by those openly hateful courtiers.

But just as with the queen’s summons, Ragnar could not refuse. The consequences for disobedience were far steeper than whatever he was bound to experience there.

If anything, he was grateful that he didn’t have to worry about the king throwing him into the arena again with some monstrous beast.

In the end, Gonan was right.

Secluding himself for weeks in Amris, as he often did, was doing him no favors. It only made it harder each time he was forced to face the court and suffer through their many rehearsed theatrics.

He had barely reached the throne room doors when sharp, deliberate footsteps echoed behind him. At first, he assumed it was just a servant hurrying to their next task. But that was until the person spoke, a voice he would give anything never to hear again.

"Ragnar."

He froze.

That familiar, grating tone breathed life into memories he had fought desperately to bury. freewebnøvel.coɱ

Irah.

She had to know what her presence did to him, how her very nearness dragged him back into one of the darkest times of his life.

He had not prepared himself for the possibility of seeing her here, a massive oversight on his part. He had braced for the queen, for the sneering courtiers, but not for her.

"You will address me by my title, or not at all," he said, not even sparing her a glance.

"But you have so many," she replied smoothly, her words dripping with mockery. "General? Prince? Or bastard? Which should it be?"

"Take your pick." He should have ignored her from the start.

Ragnar never viewed being called a bastard as an insult. He had never been offended by it, despite how much others tried to weaponize it against him.

The circumstances of his birth were no fault of his own, and he refused to bear the shame for something he had no hand in.

Behind him, he heard her scoff.

"Surely none of that applies to me. I took care of you while you lived here, remember? I practically raised you." Her tone oozed with condescension, swollen with self-importance.

"You used me," he said flatly.

Her presence made his skin crawl.

She had made him feel dirty, a type of filth that refused to come off no matter how hard he scrubbed at it.

It was the second time he had acknowledged what happened so long ago aloud for what it truly was. The first time had been to himself.

Most men hesitated to admit such things. But Ragnar had not even been a man when it happened and that made it all the worse.

It repulsed him just wondering how many others had been just like him. He wanted to know, but also didn’t want to at the same time, in case the number was more than he could handle mentally.

"I don’t know why you still bother with me," he said at last, turning to face her. His voice cut like a blade. "Aren’t I too old for your tastes?"

The sharp creak of a door opening down the hall made Irah stiffen. In an instant, her expression twisted to worry, her eyes darting toward the sound.

Fear. She was afraid someone might overhear.

Her reaction made one thing clear: Irah had somehow managed to keep her proclivities hidden for this long. Not that anyone would ever persecute her for it. She only went for those with no one to protect them.

It wasn’t even the idea of punishment, but it was the scrutiny and shaming that might come after being exposed that truly terrified her.

Looking at her made him sick, and he let it show on his face, how much he hated her.

She opened her mouth, perhaps to hurl another scathing remark, but footsteps sounded again in the distance, closer this time.

At the sight of Lord Tomar walking in their direction, Irah turned and headed the opposite way, with her tail tucked between her legs like a coward.

"You shouldn’t loiter in the halls, Your Highness," Lord Tomar said when he reached Ragnar.

"You are right," Ragnar admitted. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to misconstrue what he had been doing.

There were always people in this place who lived to stir chaos in the lives of others.

With a tilt of his head toward the throne room, Ragnar added, "Come. Let us find out what my father wants this time."

Inside, they watched as the king ascended the dais and took his place upon the golden throne. And yet, the only thing Ragnar could focus on was how pale his father looked compared to the last time they had seen each other.

No one else seemed to notice. If they did, they kept it to themselves.

Ragnar’s eyes drifted across the chamber, scanning the gathered court. To his right, at the very edge of a row, sat Gonan and Lady Taryn. Seated at the other end was Soren Hawthorne. The queen and the other three princes were all present as well.

Nearly every person of significance in the kingdom had gathered at the king’s request.

The king’s gaze swept the hall with keenness, his voice carrying authority when he spoke.

"Lamora is presently facing a silent threat. People are being snatched off our streets and disappearing without a trace.This is a scourge on our land, and it is spreading fast. So far, none of the people directly affected by this have been found, whether dead or alive." The king paused to allow his words to sink in.

It left the people gathered looking visibly shaken.

Murmurs erupted in the room, rippling unease across the courtiers.

Ragnar was surprised that this was the first time the king was mentioning this problem, when he knew it had been happening at alarming rates across the rural provinces.

What finally pushed his father to take action and why now?

From across the chamber, Gonan met his gaze, and in that shared glance Ragnar knew he was thinking the same thing.

Even when the king pretended to act for the people, his motives could never be trusted. His father never moved unless his own interests were being threatened. The king had proven time and time again that he only did things that benefited him,

The disappearances must have reached the major cities, the ones that greatly fed the palace’s coffers. That was probably what had pushed the king to take action.

The murmuring crowd fell silent as the king continued.

" It is a war on vampires, as it is only our kind that is being affected by this. We originally believed it to be the work of bandits, but we also have to examine other possibilities as well."

There was so much left unsaid. To do what the king was proposing, they might have to look back on their roots.