Claimed by the vampire prince

Chapter 299: Chapter 299

The celebration had died down considerably by the time Nheera received the news. The once-lively notes of the string quartet still drifted faintly through the hall, but the music was more subdued now, stripped of its earlier exuberance. It bore little resemblance to the beginning of the evening, when laughter had rung through the hall as nobles mingled with one another and food and wine had flowed freely.

Most of the guests had already departed by the time one of the guards sent earlier to search for Irah approached the queen.

He ignored the curious and openly suspicious stares cast in his direction as he leaned down to whisper in Nheera’s ear.

"We found her, Your Majesty."

The words were delivered in such a grave, weighted tone that Nheera understood the truth even before the guard finished speaking.

Irah was dead.

"Where is she?" Nheera said, already rising to her feet. "Take me to her."

The abruptness of her movement drew Hairan’s attention immediately, as well as that of Elka, who sat at his side.

Throughout the evening, Hairan had made a point of avoiding any interaction with his mother, despite being seated directly to her left at the table. Now, however, his gaze followed her sharply. frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

Nheera’s lips had formed a thin line, the only outward sign that something was terribly wrong.

She turned back to Hairan a moment later, lowering her voice so as not to be overheard. "Take Elka back home. Now." There was a quiet urgency in her tone, one that Hairan noticed at once.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Nheera met his gaze solemnly. "Yes. Irah was found dead in the forest. Someone murdered her."

Murder was the only explanation that made sense. There was no other way someone as capable and physically fit as Irah could have met such an end, with her body abandoned deep in the forest. Too many details remained unclear, too many questions unanswered, but the presence of foul play was undeniable.

Elka had been seated close enough to hear every word. Her hand flew to her mouth as a shocked gasp escaped her before she could stop it.

"Take Elka back to her home," Nheera repeated, her voice firmer this time. "And make sure she returns unharmed."

The identity of Irah’s killer was still unknown. It could have been anyone, perhaps even one of the nobles who had participated in the hunt earlier that day. If that were the case, then there was a very real possibility that the murderer was still within the palace walls. Nheera kept those thoughts to herself for now. All she wanted, at that moment, was to see Irah’s body with her own eyes.

She strode out of the hall, the guard close behind her, leaving Hairan and Elka standing in her wake.

Hairan rose from his seat without a word. He barely spared Elka a glance before turning and walking out of the hall as well. She hurried after him, nearly tripping over the hem of her gown as she tried to keep up, but he deliberately lengthened his strides, making it difficult for her to catch up.

"Hairan—Hairan, please slow down," she called once they were outside, her breath coming short from the effort it took to match his pace.

That finally stopped him.

He halted a short distance away from the waiting carriage and turned slowly to face her. His lips curled in faint distaste as his gaze traveled over her, from the jewels woven into her dark hair, her carefully adorned face to the jewelry resting against her slender neck, and finally to the exquisite gown she wore, all clearly chosen to impress him.

"You will address me by my title," Hairan said coldly, "or not at all."

Her lips parted, ready to respond, but before a single word could leave her mouth, he turned away and strode off once more, dismissing her entirely.

This was only her second one-on-one interaction with Hairan, and she was so stunned by his reaction that she remained rooted in place for a moment. Their first meeting had been unpleasant—he had been distant and closed off, barely acknowledging her presence—but it had been nothing compared to this outright hostility.

"If you waste another second of my time," Hairan said sharply, "I will make sure you walk home."

He was already inside the carriage, glaring at her from the open door. His voice carried loud enough for her to hear every word. But she wasn’t the only one that heard it, also the servants and nobles passing nearby.

Her cheeks burned with humiliation. Keeping her head lowered, she moved toward the carriage and climbed inside, taking the seat opposite him.

Hairan looked away when she sat down.

The footman closed the door, and moments later the carriage lurched forward, and they left the palace grounds.

Hairan remained silent until they were several miles away. Then, without looking at her, he spoke.

"I want to make something very clear to you," he said, his voice calm but edged with something sharp. "I don’t care what my mother or your parents said to convince you to agree to this match. Do yourself a favor and discard any illusion you have of us being civil with each other after the wedding."

He finally turned to face her, his gaze unyielding. "This marriage will be what I decide it is. You will be my wife in name alone. After the wedding, we will live entirely separate lives. Do not expect companionship, affection, or even courtesy from me because you will be wasting your time."

He paused, then added flatly, "If these terms do not suit you, you are free to walk away."

He went silent as they rode through a long, empty stretch of road, tall trees lining both sides of the path. The rhythmic creak of the carriage wheels and the dull thud of hooves filled the space between them.

He waited while watching her from the corner of his eye, expecting her to say something. Anything.

He wanted her anger. He wanted to see her outrage. He wanted her to bristle, to lash out, to storm back home and convince her parents to call off the wedding altogether.

But she gave him nothing.

Her silence stretched, and it grated on him far more than any insult would have. He let out a derisive scoff, the sound harsh in the enclosed space, when she still did not respond.

Just as he drew breath to hurl another scathing remark her way, a heavy thud struck the side of the carriage.