Chapter 60: A Crown Stained in Crimson

Chapter 60: A Crown Stained in CrimsonAriana stepped out of the bathroom, her hair slightly damp and wrapped in a towel. She wore a sleeveless, silk, milk-colored gown. Evening had already fallen, and she figured she might sleep early tonight. If she and Zavren decided to go for a night walk—which was very possible—she could always change again, though she doubted it. Quietly, she walked toward the mirror and sat on the soft stool. Her gaze shifted to Zavren. His hands were covering his eyes and forehead as he lay on the bed, as if lost in deep thought. He must not have noticed her, she thought. Then again, she often found herself wondering what went on in his mind—how he could hold so much inside without anyone sensing a thing. It was like he had the power to either reveal or completely hide his emotions. And he always chose the latter. He never showed them. Ariana turned her gaze back to the mirror, silently studying her reflection. A drop of water rolled from her damp hair, trailing down her neck and onto her back. She shivered slightly, unprepared for the cold sensation. It was like a gentle reminder, nudging her to finish towel-drying her hair and stay focused before she caught a cold. Just as she reached to towel-dry her hair, a hand held her in place. Her eyes flicked up to the mirror, locking with Zavren’s gaze. Her heart skipped. "Let me do it, my wife," he said, his voice deep and clear. Her eyes widened in surprise. H..how had he... and was he serious? The Alpha King wanted to towel-dry her hair? "Don’t you want me to do it?" Zavren asked, his eyes darkening slightly. Only then did Ariana realize her hands were still raised, shielding her hair from his. She hesitated before slowly dropping them, gently releasing her grip. She pressed her lips together, watching him through the mirror. Zavren’s large hands moved with care as he began towel-drying her hair. Removing the towel, he gently massaged her scalp, his movements slow and deliberate. Ariana’s body relaxed under his touch—so gentle, so calming. Her eyes fluttered open and closed as she watched him with intense focus. A small smile tugged at her lips, but she quickly forced it back to neutral. If he saw that, the teasing would never end. Her eyes widened slightly when Zavren caught her gaze through the mirror, a slow smirk forming on his lips. Did... did he catch her? But his eyes were still focused on her hair. Silence settled between them again, only his hand moving. Her body released the last of its tension, her muscles melting under his touch. "Do you feel good?" Zavren’s deep voice rumbled softly. Ariana heard the words, but the sweet sensation was too overwhelming to respond. Without warning, he gave her hair a slight tug. Her eyes snapped open as the pleasant haze vanished. "Answer me," he said, his hand sliding to the back of her neck to gently tilt her head upward. She managed a slow nod, still dazed. "Good" This man... she thought. Was he really sane? How could he be so gentle and then, in the next moment, take it away and replace it with pain? And as if nothing had happened, Zavren resumed his calm, gentle treatment. And once again, her thoughts vanished beneath the sweetness she felt. "You really like making me do things the hard way, don’t you?" he murmured, brushing the towel gently behind her ear before moving to the tips. Silence lingered again. Just as he finished, Zavren pulled the towel away with a satisfied smile. But before he could walk away to drop it, he moved swiftly—catching her before her body could hit the floor. Ariana had fallen asleep. He stared at her in quiet disbelief, then shook his head with a small chuckle. He hadn’t expected that. Carefully, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed. Laying her down gently, he tucked her under the duvet and watched her for a moment. Then, with a quiet laugh again, he facepalmed. "And here I thought we would have..." Another chuckle escaped his lips as he stood, heading off to change. Maybe he’d go for a walk—if he stayed here any longer... "F*ck, Aria." * * Back at the Hidden Kingdom... The silver-haired man sat with his legs crossed, posture regal yet relaxed. A few trusted allies were gathered around him, their presence respectful but cautious. His silver hair, half-pulled back, added an air of mystery, while his piercing blue eyes stared lazily into thin air—already expressing his boredom before the conversation had even begun. "King Vrazen... we are worried. The people are worried about you," one of the elders spoke, concern etched deeply into his aged features. A slow, amused smile curved Vrazen’s lips as his eyes finally moved to rest on the old man who stood with visible tension. "But as you can see, I am perfectly fine. Being king only means I’m enjoying life more than ever," he said, his tone light yet edged with mockery. "In fact—between you and me—you should be more worried about yourself and old age. You never know when the spirit within you might grow weary." A stunned silence filled the chamber. The old man’s lips parted, then closed, before he finally managed to speak again. His voice was calmer, his head respectfully bowed. Vrazen leaned forward, resting his face lazily on his knuckles, eyes gleaming with dangerous curiosity. "Your Majesty, please... The rumors—they have begun to spread. Not only through our kingdom but even into the lands just beyond our borders." The moment the words left his lips, the eyes of the other allies widened. No one had dared to mention the rumors to the king. Was this man courting death? Yet there it was—that haunting smile spreading across King Vrazen’s lips, revealing perfect white teeth and unnaturally long canines. His once light-blue eyes darkened ominously. "Give me details about this... so-called rumor that moved beyond our borders," he said, his voice calm but laced with quiet danger. The old man’s body trembled ever so slightly. In that moment, he regretted speaking. The king had been right—he should have simply worried about himself. But now... he was caught. Speak the rumor, or perish. And death was the last thing he wished for. "K–King V-Vrazen... Rumors about your... your liking for men." To their horror, King Vrazen broke into a quiet, unsettling laugh. All eyes turned to him, wide with shock. Of all the reactions they had expected, this was the last. "How did you know I’m into men?" he asked with a slow, dangerous smile, his eyes glinting with interest. Then he added, voice smooth as silk: "Ah... I had thought I could keep the secret for a long while. But I suppose it was bound to slip out eventually." A collective gasp rippled through the hall. The allies stared at their king, disbelief etched across every face. "M–My King... did you just say—?" "Yes, I did," Vrazen replied, his voice eerily calm, eyes sharp and unwavering. "Do you have a problem with that?" A heavy silence fell like a thick curtain across the room. The same elder who had dared speak stepped forward again, trembling yet bold. "We... we must call the Royal Priest, Your Majesty. Something is wrong. You are not... into m..men. I believe there is a spiritual affliction. Something has possessed you. Your Highness, in advice, it should be tackled before it consumes you." The man spoke with a bow, his body trembling, eyes widened in horror at the king’s words that still lingered in the air like unwanted smoke. "What do you feel possessed me?" Vrazen asked, voice dangerously calm. Lips parted once again—none expected the king to entertain such questioning with patience. "I... I don’t know. I feel it must have begun after the death of your—" A calm chuckle echoed through the hall. Too calm. That alone made it all the more terrifying. "Is that so?" Vrazen murmured. Just as the old man moved to speak again, a gasp rippled through the room. THUD. The man’s body collapsed to the floor with a deafening thud. H–his... his head—his head was gone. Lips trembled in disbelief. All eyes turned to the king. Things had happened too fast. His vampiric speed was unnatural—none of them had even seen him move. "I told him to worry about himself, didn’t I?" Vrazen said quietly, now holding the severed head in his arms. The old man’s eyes were rolled backward, lifeless. Blood poured freely from the neck, staining the marbled floor beneath the fallen body. "I only helped the poor old spirit... to rest in peace." His gaze slowly turned to another elder seated nearby, whose entire frame was now shaking. Their eyes met before the man quickly looked away, though he could still feel the king’s eyes pressing into him like a knife. "We do want his soul resting in peace, don’t we?" Vrazen asked, voice low and unsettling. The elder nodded rapidly, swallowing hard. "Oh, how considerate of you to volunteer to bury him," Vrazen said with a mockery-laced smile, now walking toward him. He moved the head forward. "Take it. Bury it." The man obeyed, hands trembling as he received the head, his face pale with horror. "The burial is tomorrow. All of you will attend," Vrazen commanded, a slow, haunting smile curling on his lips. Then, as if he hadn’t just committed a monstrous act, he turned and raised a dismissive hand. "All dismissed." One of his most faithful royal guards stepped forward and handed him a towel. Calmly, Vrazen wiped his bloodstained hands clean as he walked away, the guard silently following him. They entered the king’s private chambers. "Y–Your Majesty... why did you agree to the claim about your liking for men?" the man asked respectfully, his voice low but steady. A slow grin spread across Vrazen’s face—just as a soft knock echoed at the door. A lady stepped inside with a bow, her head lowered. He handed her the bloodied towel. Without a word, she took it with grace and left immediately. "Sometimes, you have to enjoy the lies. Where’s the fun in telling him it wasn’t true?" Vrazen’s voice was smooth, laced with deep amusement. "Besides... what happened back there was merely a little slip of my hands." He moved toward the bookshelf at the far end of the room. Gently pulling it forward, the structure shifted. The walls behind creaked open with a grinding sound, revealing a hidden passage. Candlelight flickered down the stone stairway. Together, they began to descend—but the guard stopped halfway and bowed deeply. He knew he could go no further. Vrazen continued alone. At the end of the staircase, a wooden door stood. His expression turned grave as he paused before pushing it open. Inside the room, a woman lay upon a bed. Her ink-black hair fanned out across the sheets like a river of silk. Her eyes remained closed, lashes resting against pale cheeks. A soft white robe wrapped her form, peaceful and calm. His eyes flickered to her briefly as his fingers gently brushed her cold cheek. "It wouldn’t hurt to pay a little visit to Eltones," Vrazen whispered, his grin widening once again. "Not to mention..." he added darkly, "...taking two at once wouldn’t be a bad idea. Especially now that Zavren’s wife is pregnant."