Claimed by the vampire prince

Chapter 345: Chapter 345

Even at such a young age, Nheera had already planned every facet of her life, every possible turn mapped out with painstaking care and every path led to the same inevitable outcome. Becoming queen. She refused to accept anything else. The idea had taken root in her mind in childhood, a seed planted early and left to grow unchecked. Over the years, it had twisted into an all-consuming obsession, one that was fed, and nurtured as she plotted down to the most minuscule detail.

There was nothing she would not do to see her ambitions made real. No scheme she would not devise. No line she would not cross. The desire festered in her mind for years, coiling itself around every thought until she could no longer fathom the idea of someone else slipping into the position she had obsessed over for so long. The thought alone was unbearable. She could not allow it to happen.

Which was why, the moment she came of age and gained entry into high society, she acted.

Once she was permitted to attend gatherings hosted by nobles far more privileged and wealthy than her own family, she found ways to ensure her presence at such events. One invitation led to another, and soon she was frequenting them regularly, subtly infiltrating circles of powerful women whose names carried weight and influence. She lingered at their sides, listened more than she spoke, smiled enough to seem charming, learned their habits, their strengths, and their weaknesses. Slowly, her presence became familiar until they had no choice but to notice her.

Through sheer force of will and calculated charm, she made enemies and allies alike. Some saw her as a curiosity, others as a threat, but many became friends of convenience, friends who, in turn, invited her to ever more exclusive balls, one after the other. It did not take long for her to find herself attending an event where her target was in attendance.

She called him her target because that was all she allowed herself to see him as.

A target.

He was like a prized boar roaming the wild, unaware of the hunter tracking his every step and she was that hunter. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm

Zeriel had never been her first choice. In truth, she had barely even noticed him back then. He had not been the crown prince; his cousin was. And so Zeriel had never been the one she set her sights on.

Orrin Acheron, named after the third king of their kingdom, was the only child of the reigning monarch at the time. Quick-witted and effortlessly charming, he possessed the kind of presence that could sweep any lady off her feet without trying. freewebnøvel.coɱ

Nheera had been in awe the first time she laid eyes on him, her breath catching as her mind immediately leapt into motion, already weaving plans to draw closer to him.

With his position as crown prince, he would have been her stepping stone to power beyond even her most ambitious imaginings.

But her carefully laid plans shattered into a million irreparable pieces only days later.

The news of Orrin’s betrothal spread like wildfire across the Capital and throughout the rest of Lamora. It was said to be a love match, whispered with admiration by those close to the couple. To Nheera, it felt as though a heavy door had been slammed directly in her face. The disappointment cut deep, worse, even, than many of the times her father had raised his fist against her in a drunken rage.

It would have been far easier to stomach if the prince had been bound by duty, dragged into an arranged marriage like so many before him. But how was she meant to compete with a woman who already had his heart?

Still, she did not allow the morose emotions threatening to consume her to derail the plans she had nurtured for years. She refused to falter. The answer to her predicament revealed itself at the very next ball she attended, mere days later.

That was where she met the king’s brother, Zeriel’s father, for the first time.

And that same night, she encountered a man she had once believed to be an ally.

A man she had once held genuine affection for. A man whose ambition and greed rivaled her own so closely that it had once drawn them together like kindred spirits.

Nearly forty years later, that very man stood before her now, his eyes brimming with flames that threatened to leap out and consume her whole.

"Why did you come?" she asked the moment she entered the room.

It was highly unusual for Aeron to appear at the palace unannounced, especially when his visit had anything to do with her. In that regard, he differed immensely from his younger brother, whose movements were far less predictable.

Immediately after Seraphine informed her of Aeron’s arrival, Nheera had ordered him to be escorted to her private wing, into one of the lesser-used rooms. The palace was unusually busy that morning, and she had no intention of risking curious ears overhearing their conversation.

Aeron turned slowly to face her. The scorn in his eyes as he glanced her over from head to toe was far from unfamiliar. It mirrored the way she herself had once looked at him toward the end of their affair, when whatever affection had existed between them had curdled into resentment.

"To see you, my dear," he replied smoothly. "You and my brother are my only reasons for lingering in this place."

The tone of his voice belied the emotions roiling beneath the surface. It was gentle, almost pleasant to the senses but the tightening of Nheera’s jaw made it clear she did not trust the calm he was projecting. She was wise not to.

He turned fully toward her and took a slow step in her direction, his movements like a predator closing in on its prey. Each time he advanced, she retreated instinctively, taking a careful step backward. As hardened and fearless as she had made herself over the years, every instinct within her screamed to put more distance between them.

She could feel the danger radiating off him like heat from a blazing furnace.

But running from him now would only prove that he had won, that he had reached inside her and wrapped his fingers around her fear, tightening until it bent to his will. It would mean giving him the upper hand in this strange, poisonous battle of wills they had been waging against one another for decades. Nheera refused to give him that satisfaction.

So she straightened, steeling her spine, and planted her foot down firmly, unmoving. She would not retreat. She would not yield to his intimidations.

Only a few seconds passed before the distance between them shrank to a handful of steps.