Claimed by the vampire prince

Chapter 467: Chapter 467

Guards lined the walls of the throne room as they silently observed the proceedings unfolding before them.

At that moment, a man stepped forward from the gathered petitioners. There was a hint of trepidation in the way he approached the dais.

When he reached the foot of the dais, he bowed deeply before Nheera, who sat upon her throne.

Two thrones stood atop the dais, identical in grandeur, adorned with intricate gold filigree. Yet only one was occupied. The king’s throne remained empty and it had not gone unnoticed either.

More than a few curious glances had been cast toward it. It was, after all, the king’s duty to preside over such matters, not the queen’s.

But in his absence, Nheera had instantly claimed the authority of regent, stepping into the role as though she had always been hers by right. With the future of the kingdom still uncertain, she ruled now in all but name.

The man before her slowly straightened to his full height. As he did, his gaze shifted, first landing briefly on Laheir, who stood imposingly on one of the steps of the dais, his mere presence enough to unnerve most men. Only after that fleeting glance did the petitioner dare to look fully upon the queen.

"Your Majesty," he said, his voice respectful, though faintly strained.

He was minor nobility but only in name. His lands were small, his coffers nearly empty, and whatever dignity remained in him was all that stood between him and ruin.

He had traveled all the way from the east to the capital in hopes of appealing to the king himself. Yet for reasons unknown to him, the king had not appeared.

"Speak," Nheera said coldly, her gaze resting on him with faint bemusement. "What is it that brings you here?"

"Your Majesty," the man began, bowing his head slightly once more, his voice taking on a pleading edge, "I have come to seek aid from the crown. The rebel attacks have severely diminished the yields from my land, and now winter is stripping away what little remains. My family is struggling to survive as it is."

Nheera regarded him in silence for a moment but her expression hardly changed.

"You have told me of your plight," she said at last, "but you have yet to state your true reason for coming here. Are you seeking a loan from the crown?"

The intensity of her stare made the man shift uneasily where he stood. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

"No, Your Majesty," he replied quickly. "I came to ask if I might be exempted from paying taxes this quarter."

Every landowning citizen was bound by law to pay taxes quarterly to the crown. It was a rule that extended to all, no matter how powerful or insignificant. Even the greatest noble houses were not exempt from it.

A shadow darkened Nheera’s expression as she leaned forward slightly on her throne.

"If I recall correctly," she said, her voice growing colder with each word, "you were also unable to pay your taxes for the previous three quarters. Granting your request now would mean excusing an entire year’s worth of obligations. Tell me, what was your reason for missing those payments? Or is it the same excuse you have offered me today?"

The man faltered, his composure cracking.

"I—no, Your Majesty, I just—"

But Nheera had already lost interest.

"I strive to be a fair and just queen," she said. "If I were to pardon you while enforcing the law upon others, would that be fair to them? It would go against everything I stand for."

"Your Majesty, I have nothing," the man insisted, desperation bleeding into his voice now. "I cannot give what I do not have."

A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched Nheera’s lips but there was no mirth in it.

"That is where you are mistaken," she replied. "You have something. Your lands. Small as they may be, they still hold value. Perhaps it would be better to place them in the hands of someone capable of making proper use of them. Go. You are dismissed."

The words struck like a blow.

The man’s eyes widened, shock overtaking him. He had come seeking mercy and a pardon and instead he had been stripped of the little he had left.

"No... please, Your Majesty," he said, his voice breaking. "You cannot take them. Those lands have been in my family for generations."

"Those lands you speak of were given to your grandfather when he was titled," Nheera said coolly. "And what is given can just as easily be taken away."

With a single flick of her wrist, two guards stepped forward.

The man swallowed hard. Whatever protests remained died on his tongue. With no other choice, he bowed deeply once more—though this time the gesture carried none of the respect it had before—and he turned sharply, leaving the throne room with as much dignity as he could muster.

Hours later, after the final petitions had been heard and dismissed, Nheera rose from her throne and exited through the large double doors. Elka followed closely behind her, as she always did.

The corridors beyond the throne room were quieter, the echo of their footsteps filling the space between them. For a time, neither spoke. But there was a tension in Elka’s posture and an odd expression on her face that didn’t go unnoticed.

Nheera glanced at her briefly.

"You have something on your mind," she said. "Speak."

Elka hesitated, wringing her fingers together as though she were readying herself to traversed onto uncertain grounds.

"Your Majesty... do you not think you were too harsh on that man from earlier?" she asked softly. "I understand why you could not pardon him, but... taking his lands... I do not think it was right."

She looked troubled.

"He looked so miserable," she continued. "Surely, you could find it in your heart to reconsider and to take back your order."

Nheera stopped walking.

The sudden halt forced Elka to do the same.

Slowly, the queen turned to face her.

The look she wore in the throne room had returned in full force.