Claimed by the vampire prince

Chapter 518: Chapter 518

"Most do, when they are dying," Laheir’s voice replied.

"I always thought he would die violently," Nheera’s voice said with chilling calmness. "That would have been more fitting. It is the least of what he deserved."

A horrified murmur spread through the nobles.

Several looked at Nheera with outright disgust now.

"Take some comfort then in the fact that the poison is slow acting," Laheir’s voice continued. "It will work through him gradually. His organs will fail one by one, and he will have full awareness of it before the end. He will suffer in agony. Whatever peace he looks to be in now, it will not last."

"Good," Nheera’s voice answered coldly. "You were not the first person to think of killing him this way. No one even suspected a thing before. But what you did could bring unwanted attention our way."

"I will handle it," Laheir’s voice replied. "No one will know."

Laheir had gone deathly pale. Sweat glistened visibly along his brow as panic washed over him. He looked as though he wanted to speak, to deny everything, yet fear had robbed him of the ability entirely.

And Nheera looked even worse, her hands trembling at her sides. Almost every noble in the room was staring at her with matching looks of horror and betrayal, already eager to condemn her to the worst fate imaginable.

Then, slowly, Nheera turned toward Laheir. Something inside her had finally broken.

Without warning, she reached for the knife she knew he always carried at his side and tore it free from its sheath before he could react.

Laheir’s eyes widened.

"Nheera—"

But she ignored him completely.

Clutching the blade tightly in her hand, she descended from the dais without so much as glancing back at him and she kept the knife hidden carefully against the folds of her gown. The nobles immediately parted before her in alarm as she passed.

"This was the conversation Nheera Osbourne and Laheir Tavish had in my chambers while I lay dying." Zeriel said.

"I chose my son, Ragnar, as my successor before my death. But Nheera disregarded my wishes entirely and decided to crown Hairan instead." fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

Control had truly begun slipping from her grasp.

She walked directly toward Zeriel. Or at least that was what she allowed everyone to believe.

The dead king stood unmoving near Circe. No one noticed the subtle shift in Nheera’s pace as she drew closer. Not until it was too late.

The moment she reached Zeriel, Nheera suddenly lunged sideways.

A furious scream tore from her throat as she lurched toward Circe with the knife raised high.

There was a wild, unhinged look in Nheera’s eyes. She knew she had nothing left to lose, and if ruin was coming for her, she would drag someone else down with her.

It was Circe who had summoned Zeriel’s soul. Circe who had laid Nheera’s darkest sins bare before the entire court. And now, Nheera intended to make her regret it.

The blade came down fast but Circe reacted in time.

She caught Nheera’s wrist just before the knife could plunge into her chest. The force of the attack still managed to drag the blade across Circe’s palm, opening a deep cut along her hand before she twisted aside.

Then Morana moved.

The woman crossed the distance in an instant and slammed both hands into Nheera’s shoulders hard enough to send her stumbling backward.

Rage had consumed her completely, leaving no room for reason.

She bared her fangs viciously and charged at Circe again with the knife clenched tightly in her hand.

This time she never reached her.

Dark shadows suddenly exploded outwards and lashed around Nheera’s wrist like a whip before she could take another step further. The shadows coiled tighter around her hand, locking her arm in place while the knife was still in her grasp.

Morana appeared directly in front of her again. Her face remained cold and terrifyingly calm as she reached upward and placed both hands against Nheera’s cheeks.

For one second, nothing happened.

Then Nheera screamed in agony as pain coursed through. It felt as though she had been set on fire from within. The flesh along her face immediately began to sizzle and bubble grotesquely beneath Morana’s touch while the smell of burning flesh spread rapidly.

Nheera clawed desperately at Morana’s wrist, but the older woman never moved.

"You scarred me before," Morana said quietly, her voice low enough for only Nheera to hear. "So now I return the favor."

Nheera’s screams only grew louder.

"I should kill you here," Morana continued coldly. "But I will allow my son to decide your fate."

She released her and Nheera collapsed to the floor, her body twitching once before going completely still. Both sides of her face were horribly burned now, blackened flesh still faintly smoldering as she mercifully fell into unconsciousness.

"Mother!" Hairan exclaimed.

He rushed forward a single step before stopping himself as he stared at Nheera lying motionless on the floor. Horror and concern warred openly across his face.

Then he lifted his eyes toward Morana.

"What have you done to her?"

Morana met his gaze without the slightest hint of regret. "What I should have done years ago."

The tension in the throne room became suffocating.

Ragnar had already crossed the distance to Circe seconds after Nheera’s attack. He caught her injured hand carefully, checking the cut running across her palm while his expression darkened dangerously.

Only after ensuring the wound wasn’t too severe did he finally turn back toward the dais. frёeωebɳovel.com

Hairan was still glaring furiously at Morana while Laheir remained frozen to the spot.

"We have all seen and heard enough today." Ragnar said. He was ready to end it all. "In the name of my father, King Zeriel, and the gods we serve, I call for the arrest of Laheir Tavish and Hairan Acheron for the crimes of murder, conspiracy, and high treason. They will be imprisoned in the dungeons pending trial. And because I have reason to believe they did not act alone, a full investigation will be conducted to uncover every ally tied to this conspiracy."