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Selene stood frozen, her breath shallow, her hands curling into trembling fists at her sides. The suffocating silence was broken only by the distant howl of the wind outside the towering citadel walls.
The weight of Lucien's words pressed down on her, heavy and unrelenting, as if the very air had turned against her.
She glanced at the closed door, the phantom of his presence still lingering. His commanding tone had been sharp, mocking, but beneath it lay an undercurrent of something else-something dark and unreadable.
A shiver danced down her spine, not entirely from the chill that seemed to seep through the stone walls.
The head maid returned, her expression unreadable but her steps brisk.
"Come," she said, her voice clipped but not unkind. "Best not keep him waiting."
Selene hesitated, her instincts screaming at her to resist, to flee. But there was nowhere to run.
The chains of her new reality bound her tightly, and defiance would only bring punishment-if not from Lucien himself, then from the unforgiving world she now found herself in.
She followed the maid, her heart pounding louder with every step they took through the dimly lit corridors.
The flickering torches cast long shadows, their flames dancing like restless spirits, mirroring the turmoil within her.
When they reached the grand doors of Lucien's chamber, the head maid stopped and turned to her, her gaze softening just a fraction.
"Speak only when spoken to," she murmured. "Do not look him directly in the eyes unless he permits it. And... be careful, girl."
Before Selene could respond, the doors were pushed open with an ominous creak. The room beyond was vast, the high ceilings adorned with dark, intricate carvings that seemed to twist and writhe in the firelight.
A massive hearth blazed at one end, the flames casting an eerie glow over the room's luxurious but foreboding decor.
Lucien stood near a tall window, his silhouette framed by the moonlight that poured in like a silver flood. He turned his head slightly, acknowledging her presence without fully looking at her.
"Close the door behind you," he said, his voice low and lethal, the kind of voice that commanded not just obedience but submission.
Selene stepped inside, her fingers curling against her palm as she pushed the heavy door shut.
Her footsteps felt too loud against the polished stone floor as she approached him, stopping a few paces away, her head bowed, just as the head maid had instructed.
The silence stretched, a living, breathing thing that wrapped itself around her throat. Finally, Lucien spoke, his tone laced with mockery.
"Do you fear me, little entertainer?"
Selene's throat went dry, but she forced herself to speak, her voice barely above a whisper. "No."
The word escaped her before she could stop it. A lie, one that hung in the air between them like a challenge.
Lucien turned then, his piercing gaze locking onto her, a flicker of amusement playing at the corners of his lips. He stepped closer, each movement deliberate, predatory, until the space between them was almost nonexistent.
"Liar," he murmured, his voice a dangerous caress. His hand lifted, his fingers grazing her chin, tilting her face up to meet his. "But I'll allow it. For now."
Selene's breath hitched, her pulse thundering in her ears. She wanted to look away, to escape the intensity of his stare, but his grip, though light, was unyielding.
In his eyes, she saw something that both terrified and intrigued her-a darkness that promised pain but also whispered secrets she couldn't yet understand.
"I wonder," Lucien mused, his thumb brushing over her jawline, "how long you'll keep up this facade of defiance. Or perhaps you'll surprise me."
He released her suddenly, stepping back as if bored. "Entertain me, little one. Show me why you think you're worth keeping alive."
Selene swallowed hard, the weight of his demand sinking into her like a stone. Whatever game Lucien Dravenhart was playing, she had no choice but to play along-or risk losing everything, including herself.
Selene's fingers twisted into the fabric of her dress, her mind spinning as she tried to decipher his words, his intentions, his game. The fire crackled in the hearth, its warmth doing little to chase the chill that radiated from Lucien's presence.
He stood motionless, the sharp planes of his face illuminated by the flickering flames, his expression unreadable but no less intimidating.
Her voice came out uneven, soft and uncertain. "What... what would you have me do, Your Majesty?"
Lucien turned his head slightly, his gaze drifting to the table nearby. There, an untouched apple rested, its crimson skin gleaming under the firelight.
A hint of a smirk tugged at his lips as he returned his attention to her, his words slow, deliberate, and razor-edged.
"If you're foolish enough to follow my suggestions, little human," he said, his tone a blend of mockery and menace, "you won't live long enough to entertain anyone else."
The cryptic warning sent a cold shiver down her spine, her heart slamming against her ribs. She didn't know what he wanted, what he expected of her.
But she knew one thing-failure was not an option. She swallowed hard, desperation clawing at her chest.
"I can... I can cook for you," she blurted, the words spilling out before she could stop them. "I'm a great cook."
For a moment, silence reigned, thick and suffocating. Then Lucien's brow arched, a flicker of amusement dancing in his crimson eyes. He tilted his head, studying her like a predator would its prey.
"Cook?" he echoed, his voice curling around the word as though tasting it. "And if I don't find your efforts... interesting?" His gaze darkened, his smirk turning sharper, more dangerous. "Then I'll drink from you, little human. A fair trade, don't you think? Deal?"
Selene's breath hitched, her pulse racing so fast she felt lightheaded. The very idea of him drinking from her was horrifying, yet there was no room for hesitation. If she backed down now, it would only amuse him further-or worse, anger him.
"I-" She stopped herself, forcing her voice to steady. "I'll try harder. I won't disappoint you."
Lucien's smirk deepened, and he leaned back slightly, folding his arms across his chest. His presence was so commanding that even his stillness felt like a challenge, a silent dare.
"We'll see," he said softly, the promise in his words chilling. "The kitchens are below. Ask for what you need. You have one hour."
Selene blinked, her heart still racing as his words registered. He was giving her a chance-a slim one, perhaps, but it was better than none.
She didn't wait for him to change his mind. With a small nod, she turned and hurried to the door, her steps quick and purposeful, though her mind was a whirlwind of doubt and fear.
As she stepped into the corridor, her thoughts spiraled. What could she make that would possibly please someone like Lucien Dravenhart?
Did vampires even eat mortal food, or was this another test, another way to torment her? But she didn't have time to dwell on those questions. She would cook, she would try, and she would survive.
The kitchens were a flurry of activity when she arrived, the staff bustling about with a precision that reminded her of soldiers preparing for battle.
Selene's arrival drew curious and skeptical glances, but the head cook, a stern older woman with sharp eyes, begrudgingly allowed her access after hearing Lucien's command.
She worked quickly, her hands moving on instinct, years of practice guiding her despite the tremor in her fingers. She decided on a simple dish-something warm, comforting, and human.
A stew, hearty and rich, with fresh bread to accompany it. It wasn't extravagant, but it was honest, a reflection of the girl she had once been before her world was stolen away.
As the stew simmered and the bread baked, Selene's mind wandered back to Lucien's parting words. A fair trade. Was it really? Her heart sank, doubt clawing at her resolve.
She could only hope that the meal would suffice-that it would buy her more time in this twisted game she'd been thrust into.
When the meal was ready, she carried the tray herself, her legs trembling as she made her way back to Lucien's chamber.
The weight of his expectations-and the consequences of failure-pressed down on her with every step.
As the grand doors loomed before her, she took a steadying breath. Whatever happened next, she would face it. For she had no other choice.
The dining hall was oppressively silent as Selene entered, her every step echoing off the grand stone walls. The flickering light from the chandeliers above cast eerie shadows across the long table where Lucien sat at its head, his regal presence dominating the space.
Beside him stood Lord Elias, his expression composed but his sharp gaze tracking her movements. At a respectful distance stood the head maid, her hands folded neatly, watching with the practiced stillness of someone accustomed to courtly tension.
Selene clutched the tray tighter, her knuckles white as she approached the table. The aroma of the stew wafted through the room, rich and inviting, and she noticed Lord Elias's gaze flicker briefly to the steaming bowl.
His lips tightened, but he remained silent. The air felt heavy, and Selene's every breath felt like it caught in her throat.
Stopping just short of Lucien, she placed the tray on the table, her movements careful, almost reverent, though her hands betrayed her nerves with their faint trembling.
She lifted the ladle, her fingers trembling slightly as she poured the stew into a finely crafted bowl. The golden liquid swirled, steam curling into the cold air.
Lucien watched her in silence, leaning back in his chair with an air of casual dominance that only heightened her unease.
His crimson eyes gleamed with something dark, something that made her stomach churn with anxiety. She set the bowl in front of him, stepping back, her head slightly bowed.
For a moment, nothing happened. The silence stretched thin, the crackle of the distant fire the only sound. Then Lucien's deep voice shattered it, low and laced with mockery.
"Tell me, little human," he began, raising a single brow as his piercing gaze pinned her in place, "have you poisoned my food?"
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