Free Web NovelChapter 284: Chapter 284
The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing in the tense silence that followed.
It left only Nheera and Azul standing in the room.
Almost instantly, Azul’s playful demeanor fell away. The teasing light in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something far more serious as he turned to face his mother fully.
"Of all the noblewomen you could have chosen from," he said sternly, "you picked the most timid of them all. Hairan will chew her up and spit her back out, and it will be your fault. You brought him a mouse when you should have found a shark."
Nheera waved a dismissive hand, her expression unmoved. "Her family is very influential and rich, and that is what matters for now. Everything else is trivial by comparison." She tilted her head slightly. "A year in the royal court will force her to grow a backbone. Your concerns are unnecessary."
Then she paused, her gaze growing distant. "Elka will adjust to the role of queen just as I had to. Just as every queen before me has."
Azul studied her for a long moment, unconvinced. But in the end, he swallowed every retort that rose to his tongue. Without another word, he turned and walked away to prepare for the banquet later that day.
***
The great hall hummed with anticipation as guests began to trickle in, their footsteps echoing softly against the polished stone floor. Chandeliers hung overhead like clusters of frozen stars, their candlelight flickering and casting warm gold across gilded walls and towering columns.
Noblemen in richly embroidered coats and ladies draped in flowing silks moved with measured grace, exchanging polite nods, shallow bows, and murmured greetings. Laughter punctuated the low murmur of conversation, weaving itself into a delicate symphony alongside the rustle of fabric and the clink of jewelry. As more guests arrived, they found their seats, the energy of the hall steadily swelling with each new presence.
At the far end of the room, musicians tuned their instruments. The soft pluck of a harp string drifted through the air, soon joined by the muted hum of violins.
Circe and Ragnar had entered alongside several other noble couples and now sat together at one of the banquet tables, quietly observing the spectacle around them.
At the front of the hall stood the long royal table, laden with gleaming platters of roasted meats, fruits, breads, and delicacies arrange elegantly. The king and queen sat at its center, flanked by Hairan and Elka. Hairan’s posture was rigid, his expression grim, while Elka sat beside him with hands folded tightly in her lap, looking small amid the grandeur.
Once the guests had fully settled, their attention inevitably drifted toward the royal table.
"Your brother couldn’t look more miserable if he tried," Circe whispered to Ragnar, amusement lacing her voice. She lifted her hand to cover her lips, though the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her humor. "One would think he was attending a burial, not his own betrothal celebration."
Ragnar smiled faintly, leaning closer. "That may be true," he murmured, "but I reckon he looks happier than either of us did at our wedding."
He earned a soft huff of laughter from Circe. Her eyes glinted with mirth as memory stirred, recalling the sharp words they hurled at each other, and the way they had once been perpetually at odds.
Their quiet exchange was cut short as the king rose from his seat.
The hall gradually fell silent as he stood, his presence commanding attention. A benevolent smile spread across his face as he lifted his hands slightly, preparing to address the gathered nobles.
"Welcome, honored friends," the king began, his voice carrying easily through the vast chamber. "Welcome to this hall, which has long borne witness to our family’s fortunes and the history of our kingdom. Your presence here tonight is a testament to the bonds we share, and I am deeply grateful that you have come to join us."
He paused, letting his gaze sweep across the room.
"We gather not merely to feast," he continued, "but to celebrate a joy that brings our house hope and promise for the generations to come. It is with great pride and with the blessing of our hearts, that I announce the betrothal of my son, Hairan, to Elka."
A ripple of approving murmurs passed through the hall.
"This union," the king said, his smile widening just a fraction, "will strengthen both our families and honor the future of our kingdom. Tonight, we drink. We rejoice. And we bear witness to the beginning of a new Chapter—one that, I trust, shall be remembered with warmth and favor for many years to come."
Applause erupted across the hall, celebrating the promise of yet another royal wedding on the horizon.
The queen kept her gaze fixed straight ahead, her posture regal. It should have rankled her that the King had chosen to address the people instead of her, especially when she had been the one to select a suitable match for Hairan and orchestrate every detail of the banquet. It was her labor, her careful planning, yet it was her husband who gets the credit and now basks in the applause. freёweɓnovel.com
Ordinarily, the familiar sting of resentment would have followed, sharp and bitter. Tonight, however, she barely felt it.
Nothing could ruin this banquet for her, not now, and not with everything that was still to come before the night was through.
A small, satisfied smile curved her lips as Zeriel lowered himself back into the chair beside her. Almost as if on cue, servants began streaming into the hall in orderly lines, their footsteps soft against the polished stone floor. They carried heavy platters laden with steaming dishes and ornate pitchers filled with dark wine, moving swiftly and silently as they poured into the waiting cups of the assembled nobles.
Nheera’s smile widened at the sight, her eyes gleaming with quiet triumph. Around the hall, reactions varied. Some nobles watched the servants closely, their gazes flicking from one to the next, confusion and unease tightening their expressions. Others remained deliberately unaffected, lifting their cups and resuming their conversations as though nothing were amiss.
Circe, seated beside Ragnar and observing the unfolding scene, felt all the air leave her lungs at once. Her breath caught painfully in her chest as she truly took in the servants now moving through the hall.
Ordinarily, the palace employed a mixture of human and vampire servants. The vampires were granted the more dignified positions and were permitted to attend directly to the royal family, while the humans were relegated to the dirtiest and most grueling tasks like working the sculleries, tending the fields, or laboring in the gardens under the hot sun.
Tonight, however, there were no vampire servants in sight. Not a single one.
Only human servants filled the hall. And every one of them wore a chain collar clasped tightly around their neck. The metal caught the torchlight as they moved, glinting dully with each obedient bow of their heads.
From across the hall, Nheera’s eyes found Circe’s. Their gazes locked. Slowly, the queen’s smile turned wicked.
And Circe knew then that this was all her doing.
