Chapter 14
Seraphina followed Rhydian as he led her out of the grand hall, her heartbeat still erratic from the events of the day. The moment they stepped past the massive black doors, sealing them away from the watchful eyes of the vampires, he released her hand.
The warmth of his touch vanished instantly, replaced by the biting cold of his sudden detachment. His smile, the one that had been surprisingly tender just moments ago, disappeared as if it had never existed.
"You can head to your chambers. I'll take care of some matters and join you later." His voice was firm, devoid of any emotion, as if the man who had just kissed her before the crowd was nothing more than a mirage.
Seraphina frowned, searching his face for any hint of warmth, but there was none. The change in demeanor was almost startling—one second he had been the perfect groom, the next, an unreadable enigma.
Her jaw clenched. So it had all been an act.
Fine. It wasn't like she cared. She couldn't afford to care.
Without another word, she turned on her heels and strode toward her chambers, but irritation bubbled inside her. Why did she feel like this? Why was she so... mad?
It wasn't as if she had believed in his kindness. She knew better. She wasn't some naïve girl hoping for love from a vampire king. She was here to kill him.
And yet, her stomach twisted in knots, as if a part of her had foolishly wanted his warmth to be real.
As soon as she entered her chambers, she slammed the door behind her. The loud bang echoed through the room, startling even her. A frustrated breath left her lips, and she exhaled sharply. The wedding dress suddenly felt unbearably constricting against her skin.
She needed it off. Now.
Stripping out of it hastily, she changed into something more comfortable before summoning the servants for a meal. As the food was brought in, she noticed Irene was absent.
"Where is Irene?" she asked, stabbing her fork into the food absentmindedly.
One of the maids bowed slightly before responding. "Lady Irene went home to visit her sick mother, Your Highness. She travels every three days to check on her well-being."
Seraphina paused, chewing over the new information. A sick mother. That was unexpected. Perhaps she could help.
"Where is her hometown?" she asked, lifting her gaze.
"It's not far from here," the maid replied hesitantly.
"Good. You'll take me there." She continued eating, expecting the maid to agree immediately. But instead, there was silence.
Seraphina frowned, looking up to see the maid hesitating. "What?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.
The maid lowered her head. "Forgive me, Your Highness, but... today is your wedding night. We are to spend the evening preparing you for His Majesty."
Seraphina's hand froze, her grip tightening on the fork.
Her wedding night.
Her first night with Rhydian.
Heat crawled up her neck as the realization slammed into her like a crashing wave.
The other maids giggled softly at her reaction, their amusement making her flustered.
Her lips parted, but her throat felt dry. "Sleeping in the same room isn't something to prepare for. I'll be fine," she dismissed quickly, forcing herself to stay composed.
But the maids only giggled again.
Her brows drew together. "What's so funny?"
"Your Highness," one of them said, struggling to contain her smile, "sleeping isn't the only thing that happens on a wedding night."
Seraphina felt her entire body heat up.
The fork fell from her fingers with a soft clatter.
How could she forget?
Memories surfaced—her mother, years ago, sitting beside her and Freya, explaining the intimate details of what happened between a married couple. Back then, she had been young, curious, even a little embarrassed, but she had always imagined she would share that experience with someone she loved.
But that was before.
Before she became an assassin. Before she lost all interest in men. Before she drowned herself in blood and vengeance.
Now, she only found romance to be pointless. Love was a luxury, a distraction, something weak people clung to.
Men had pursued her in the past, but their shallow words of affection irritated her. She could smell their lies from a mile away. Love? She didn't even know what that was supposed to feel like.
Or at least, she thought she didn't.
Then she met him.
The moment she had laid eyes on Rhydian, her breath had caught in her throat. How could someone be so unbearably handsome? He was nothing like the rumors.
And then there was the kiss.
Her first kiss.
And the one today, just before the wedding.
Her face grew impossibly warm as the memory of his lips on hers played in her mind. She had felt something then—something dangerous.
Her lips curled slightly before she realized she was smiling.
Wait.
Why was she smiling?
She blinked and straightened in her seat, shaking off the thoughts. She should be disgusted by the idea of spending the night with him. She should be plotting his death, not—not blushing like a fool.
She swallowed hard. This is just mating. Nothing complicated.
But... it was with a vampire.
A shiver ran down her spine.
She adjusted in her seat, suddenly uncomfortable. Why did it feel so hot in here?
Her heart pounded relentlessly against her ribs. She had never been this nervous before—not even when facing death. This was ridiculous.
She inhaled sharply, forcing herself to push the thoughts aside.
Dinner passed in a blur, and afterward, the maids insisted she take a nap, claiming she would need energy for the night ahead. The statement sent another rush of heat through her body, but she complied, hoping sleep would calm her nerves.
When she woke up, it was twilight, and the hunger pangs in her stomach reminded her of how much time had passed.
She ate, but as soon as she finished, the preparations began.
She was bathed in rose-scented water for what felt like an eternity. They waxed away every bit of body hair, scrubbed her skin until it was impossibly smooth, massaged scented oils into her flesh, and combed through her hair with expensive, perfumed shampoo.
Her mouth wasn't spared either—they made her gargle with a herbal tonic, ensuring her breath was fresh.
It was grueling.
By the time they were finished, five agonizing hours later, they dressed her in a white nightdress so sheer, so indecent, she felt utterly exposed.
Worse—they didn't let her wear anything underneath.
Her arms instinctively crossed over her body, but the maids only smiled knowingly.
Before she could protest, one of them handed her a small bowl filled with a dark, ominous liquid.
She stared at it suspiciously. "What is this?"
"A tonic, Your Highness," the maid said gently. "It helps lessen the pain."
Seraphina's heart skipped a beat.
Pain.
Her fingers curled tightly around the bowl as her pulse raced.
This was happening.
Her wedding night.
With Rhydian.
A storm of panic and anticipation swirled inside her, each emotion clashing violently.
She couldn't do this.
She wasn't ready.
Or maybe…
She should use this opportunity to kill him.
He wouldn't see it coming.