The carriage halted with a jarring jolt, the horses outside snorting impatiently. Aurelia peered through the thick curtains, the dim light filtering through casting elongated shadows on the interior of the carriage. A manor house stood before them, its imposing silhouette outlined against the twilight sky. People, dressed in extravagant attire, bustled in and out, their laughter and animated conversations carried on the wind.
A discreet knock sounded on the carriage door, followed by the creak of the door opening. A uniformed footman, his face impassive, bowed low. Samael, emerged from the carriage, his tall figure casting a long shadow over the gravel path. He extended a hand towards Aurelia, his expression a mix of expectation and amusement.
Hesitantly, Aurelia reached out, her fingers brushing against his warm skin. He pulled her from the carriage with a gentle yet firm grip, his touch sending a shiver down her spine. As her feet touched the ground, she took a deep breath, the crisp evening air a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere of the carriage.
The manor house loomed before her, an imposing structure that hinted at a wealth and power that rivaled. The air was thick with anticipation, the murmur of excited voices carried on the wind. Aurelia felt a surge of unease.
As they approached the grand entrance, she stole a glance at Samael. His face was a mask, revealing nothing of his thoughts. Yet, there was a glint in his eyes, a predatory gleam that sent a chill down her spine.
Samael, sensing her gaze, turned his head to face her. A smirk played on his lips. "Enthralled by my looks, are we?" he teased, his voice low and seductive.
Aurelia scoffed, the sound lost in the bustle of the manor. She couldn't deny the man's striking appearance – the sharp features, the piercing golden eyes, and the aura of power that clung to him like a second skin. But enthralled? Far from it. Fear, suspicion, hatred, and a growing sense of dread were the emotions that dominated her thoughts.
As they entered the manor house, a wave of noise and activity washed over them. People turned heads, their gazes lingering on the unusual pair. Whispers and murmurs rippled through the crowd, their eyes darting between Aurelia and Samael.
Aurelia felt a surge of self-consciousness. The spotlight was on her, and she was unprepared for the scrutiny. She clung to Samael's arm, seeking a semblance of stability in the chaos.
Samael, however, seemed to thrive in the attention. His steps were confident, his posture regal. He moved through the crowd as a king surveying his domain, his gaze sweeping over the assembled guests. Aurelia trailed behind him, a ghost in the glittering landscape of the manor house.
As they moved deeper into the manor, the noise level increased. Laughter, clinking glasses, and the strains of a live orchestra filled the air. People dressed in extravagant attire mingled and danced, their faces painted with masks of joy and superficiality. But beneath the veneer of happiness, Aurelia sensed a undercurrent of tension, a sense of unease that mirrored her own.
She glanced at Samael, who seemed to be enjoying the spectacle. His eyes scanned the crowd, his expression unreadable.
As Samael and Aurelia made their way through the bustling crowd, a wave of deference washed over them. People bowed and curtsied, their voices filled with reverence as they addressed Samael as "Your Majesty." The titles, the bows, the hushed whispers – it was a stark reminder of the power dynamics at play.
Aurelia, caught in the whirlwind of attention, felt a surge of unease. She was an outsider, a mere spectator in this grand spectacle. Yet, the way people looked at her, a mixture of curiosity and veiled judgment, made her feel like an exhibit in a gilded cage.
Just as they were about to enter the main hall, a familiar figure emerged from the crowd. Lady Cecilia, her face painted with a mask of forced cheerfulness, approached them with outstretched hands.
"Your Majesty," she said, her voice dripping with affected sweetness, "it's an honor to have you grace our humble manor with your presence." Her gaze flickered to Aurelia, and a cold, calculating look replaced the feigned warmth.
Samael, unfazed by Cecilia's theatrics, inclined his head in a curt acknowledgment. "Lady Cecilia," he replied, his voice devoid of warmth. "Your manor is indeed… impressive."
Aurelia frowned, her gaze flickering between Cecilia and Samael. The memory of the stabbing, the horror of witnessing the King's apparent demise, and the subsequent confusion surrounding the events all came rushing back. It was clear that Cecilia was genuinely oblivious to the incident, her memory, seemed to have been manipulated, obscuring the truth.
A wave of unease washed over her. If Cecilia, someone who witnessed the stabbing, was unaware of the attempted assassination, then how deep did the conspiracy run? What truly was the king?
Her gaze drifted through the crowd, scanning the faces of the assembled guests.
A thought occurred to her. Her aunt, might be able to shed some light on the strange occurrences plaguing her life. But the question remained: would she even be present at this gathering?
As she pondered this, Samael's voice cut through her thoughts. "Something on your mind, sweetness?" His voice carried over the din of the party.
Aurelia forced a smile, masking the turmoil within. "Just contemplating the opulence of this manor, Your Majesty," she replied, her voice steady. It was a lie, a feeble attempt to deflect his attention. But for now, it would have to suffice.
The music swelled, a lively tune that seemed to mock her inner turmoil. Dancers twirled on the polished floor, their laughter echoing through the room.
Cecilia, ever the social butterfly, stepped forward, a radiant smile gracing her lips. "Your Majesty, would you care to dance?" she purred, her voice laced with a seductive undertone.
Samael inclined his head in acknowledgment, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. "With pleasure, Lady Cecilia," he replied, his voice smooth as velvet.
Just as Cecilia was about to extend her hand, Samael turned, his gaze locking with Aurelia's. "Or perhaps," he said, his voice low and suggestive, "my slave would like to grace the dance floor?"
Cecilia's smile faltered, replaced by a look of shock and indignation. Aurelia's heart pounded in her chest. She was being dragged into the spotlight.
Before she could protest, Samael's hand enveloped hers, his touch sending a shiver down her spine. He pulled her onto the dance floor, the crowd parting to make way for them. The spotlight, once focused on Cecilia, now shifted to the unexpected pair.
The crowd parted like a sea before a tempest as Samael and Aurelia made their way to the dance floor. The murmur of conversation fell silent, replaced by a collective intake of breath as the unusual pair took center stage.
Aurelia felt a surge of adrenaline, a mix of fear and defiance coursing through her veins. She was no longer a mere spectator in this grand spectacle, but an unwilling participant in a drama she didn't understand. The eyes of the crowd were upon her, judging, speculating. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and most importantly, out of place.