Chapter 4: A Place Beside the King

Alaric

Her scent reached me first.

Before I saw her, before my eyes could feast upon the vision she had become, her fragrance curled into my senses like a whispered promise. It was new—jasmine and something richer, more decadent. But beneath it, woven into her very essence, was the one thing that truly enslaved me.

Her blood.

The scent of it was maddening. Sweet, pure, potent—a lure crafted by the gods themselves.

And then, she stepped into the hall.

The air itself seemed to still. Conversations lulled, and every gaze turned toward the woman who had unknowingly ensnared a king. The morning light spilled through the great stained-glass windows, casting its glow upon her as if heaven itself had laid its claim.

Annora.

Draped in a deep blue gown, she moved with a grace that bordered on the supernatural. The silk clung to her curves, the color a striking contrast against the warm honeyed tone of her skin—smooth, luminous, untouched by flaw. She did not shimmer like a noblewoman adorned in gold, nor did she gleam like the polished marble of the palace halls. No, her beauty was something else entirely.

Unearthly.

My breath was slow. Controlled. I had to control it.

Yet my eyes betrayed me. They traced the delicate slope of her throat, lingering at the fragile pulse just beneath her skin. So fragile. So tempting. My fangs ached to pierce her, to sink deep and taste the very essence that called to me like a siren’s song.

Not to kill. No, never to kill.

I only wanted to drink.

But I could not.

Annora could not know what I was.

A sharp exhale passed through my nose as I forced my gaze away, flexing my fingers against the armrest of my chair. Control. I was a king, not a beast.

A low chuckle broke my thoughts, and I turned to find Prince Edric watching me, amusement glinting in his eyes. He had seen everything—the way my gaze had lingered too long, the way my body had stiffened at her presence.

The bastard was enjoying this.

Before I could stop him, Edric moved, his steps slow and deliberate, like a panther stalking its prey.

He reached Annora and bowed, his voice dripping with charm. “My lady,” he purred. “Tell me, is it the gown that makes the woman, or the woman who makes the gown?”

Annora hesitated, taken aback. A faint flush rose to her cheeks, a reaction that only widened Edric’s grin. “Your Highness,” she said softly, offering a curtsy. “You flatter me too much.”

“Ah, but flattery implies exaggeration,” he mused. “And I speak only the truth. You shame the stars themselves, Annora.”

The wood beneath my grip cracked.

He was doing this to provoke me. He knew what she was to me. And still, he toyed with her, as if to see how far he could push before I snapped.

Annora, oblivious to the silent war unfolding between us, lowered her gaze. “You are too kind, my prince.”

Too kind? No. He was cruel. And I was a fool for allowing this moment to unfold at all.

Because while Edric played at charm, I warred with something far more dangerous.

My hunger. My desire.

And the slow, undeniable realization that Annora was becoming my greatest weakness.

I rose from my seat, smooth, deliberate. The great hall stilled, every murmured conversation dying away. The weight of my presence alone was enough to silence those who had been watching the exchange unfold.

Edric, ever the opportunist, stepped back before I reached them, his smirk never wavering. He dipped his head in mock surrender, leaving Annora standing before me—uncertain, expectant.

She was hesitant but not fearful, her hands smoothing over the silk of her gown as she bowed in deference. “Your Majesty.”

Her voice rang through me like a bell tolling at midnight.

I forced my hunger aside.

“Annora,” I said, my tone measured. “This is my brother, Prince Edric Castile.”

She glanced at Edric, who gave a mocking bow, smirk intact.

“A pleasure, sweet Annora,” he mused. “Has my dear brother been keeping me from such a radiant gem on purpose?”

I ignored him. “Come,” I said to Annora, my attention solely on her. “Join us.”

Her expression faltered, her brows drawing together in surprise.

I caught the flicker of uncertainty in her dark eyes.

“You seem troubled,” I observed.

At that, she bowed her head. “I thought I was here to serve.”

Silence.

From his seat, Edric chuckled, shaking his head. “Cute,” he muttered before returning to his goblet.

I exhaled, willing patience to remain intact.

“You are not here to serve food, Annora,” I told her, my voice firm but not unkind. “Sit. Eat.”

Hesitation lingered for only a moment before she nodded and lowered herself into the seat I had offered. She held herself with the quiet dignity of someone who did not yet understand her place in this world.

She would learn soon enough.

As breakfast was served, the hall returned to its usual murmur.

The long table, adorned with gleaming silver and goblets of dark wine, was now covered in an array of the finest delicacies.

Freshly baked bread, golden and crisp, paired with honey harvested from the royal hives. Roasted pheasant, spiced venison, and delicate ribbons of smoked salmon arranged with precision. Bowls of ripe berries, figs, and pomegranates gleamed like scattered jewels. The aroma of warm pastries filled with cream and sugared almonds mingled with the scent of spiced cider.

Annora’s eyes flickered over the feast before her, hesitation clear in the way she folded her hands in her lap. But when a warm plate of soft eggs and herb-roasted potatoes was placed before her, she finally relaxed.

I watched as she lifted a piece of fruit to her lips, her movements delicate, hesitant.

Then, she spoke. “Your Majesty… may I ask—” she hesitated. “What is my role here?”

I had expected the question.

“You will be my personal attendant,” I said. “You will answer to me and only me.”

She nodded but did not look reassured. “An attendant…” she echoed.

I allowed a brief pause before adding, “And perhaps, a companion—if not in title, then in name.”

A low chuckle rumbled across the table.

“There it is,” Edric murmured, his tone rich with amusement.

I ignored him, my focus on Annora.

She traced the edge of her plate, thoughtful. Finally, she met my gaze, her voice soft.

“And what does it mean… to be a companion to you, Your Majesty?”

Edric let out another laugh.

“Yes, brother,” he said mockingly. “What does that mean?”

I chose my words carefully.

“It means you will remain close to me,” I said smoothly. “You will accompany me when I see fit, you will attend to me in matters I require, and… you will belong to no one else.”

Annora’s lips parted slightly, a delicate blush warming her cheeks.

She lowered her gaze. “Your Majesty… I am not experienced in such things.”

Heat coiled low in my stomach, primal and demanding. The admission—so sweet, so unguarded—sent a surge of possession through me.

I clenched my jaw, forcing control. “You will stay pure, Annora,” I assured her, my voice gentler now. “I will not take anything from you that you do not wish to give.”

She searched my face, found truth in my words.

And finally, she relaxed.

Good.

A small smile touched my lips. “You are safe here.”

Edric huffed a breath, shaking his head as he lifted his goblet. “How noble of you, brother,” he mused dryly.

I ignored him.

Because at that moment, I did not care what he thought.

All that mattered was Annora.