Chapter 15

The rhythmic clatter of hooves on cobblestones came to an abrupt halt, jolting Aurelia from her uneasy contemplation. A frown creased her brow as she gripped the armrest, the carriage swaying precariously for a moment before settling.

The door swung open with a creak, revealing the face of the coachman. He bowed curtly, his voice rough with age. "We have arrived, Your Majesty."

Aurelia hesitated for a moment, her gaze flitting to the imposing mansion that stood before them. Its grand façade, shrouded in a veil of morning mist, seemed to hold a somber air. A long, winding path leading to the entrance was lined with numerous carriages, a testament to the deceased's presumed stature.

As Aurelia gathered her composure, Samael emerged from the carriage, his black attire even more stark against the backdrop of the grey morning. He turned towards her, and to her surprise, he held the bouquet of white lilies in his gloved hand.

"Here," he said, his voice a low murmur, extending the flowers towards her. "Hold these."

Aurelia stared at the lilies, a wave of conflicting emotions washing over her.

With a deep breath, Aurelia reached out and tentatively took the lilies. Their cool, delicate petals brushed against her fingertips, sending a shiver down her spine.

Samael strode towards the imposing mansion, his long legs eating up the distance with an air of practiced ease. Aurelia followed a few paces behind, the weight of the white lilies in her hand a constant and unsettling reminder of their purpose.

As they approached the entrance, a hush seemed to fall over the gathered crowd. A few heads turned their way, whispers rippling through the air like wind through dry leaves. Suddenly, a man detached himself from the mourners and hurried towards them.

He bowed deeply, his face etched with a mixture of grief and apprehension. "Your Majesty," he stammered, his voice trembling slightly. "Forgive me for the intrusion, but… do you still remember me? I am Edric , the first son of Lord Arnold."

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Aurelia's eyes widened in shock. Lord Arnold? The very same man she'd mistakenly killed during the ball? So this was his funeral.

Edric's words hung heavy in the air, shattering the facade of normalcy the King had attempted to maintain. Few, if any, had ever seen the king in public, let alone attending a funeral. The murmurs intensified, a mixture of curiosity and unease swirling amongst the guests.

Edric, oblivious to the growing commotion, seemed more focused on Samael. His gaze darted back and forth between the King and Aurelia, a question hanging unspoken in the air.

Sensing Edric's confusion, Samael spoke. "Edric," he acknowledged, "condolences on your loss. Lord Arnold was a… valuable asset. "

Edric straightened slightly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. "With my father's passing, Your Majesty," he began, his voice tight with emotion, "the lordship of the East falls to me, as his eldest son. These are difficult times, but I shall do my best to uphold his legacy."

"The lordship of the East, is it?" he began . "And how precisely, Edric, are you so certain of this inheritance?"

Edric's smile faltered, a cold dread creeping into his eyes. He stole a glance at Aurelia, unsure of the King's cryptic words or her presence.

Sensing Edric's unease, Samael's smile widened, though it lacked any warmth. "Relax, Edric," he chuckled, the sound devoid of humor. "A mere jest. Grief can cloud even the clearest minds, wouldn't you agree?"

Edric let out an awkward laugh, the sound strained and unconvincing.

Edric, his face still etched with nervous confusion, gestured for them to follow him. The somber procession moved towards the back of the mansion, the air thick with the scent of lilies and freshly turned earth. Aurelia trailed behind Samael, her senses overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of mourning.

Black cloaks, like crows gathering, dominated the scene. Mourners whispered amongst themselves, their faces etched with sorrow. In the distance, a lone figure stood near an open casket. As they drew closer, Aurelia's breath hitched in her throat. Lord Arnold lay in state, his once haughty features now peaceful in the grip of death.

A wave of guilt crashed over Aurelia, so intense it almost knocked her off her feet. Her fingers tightened around the stems of the white lilies, their pristine beauty a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within her. This man, this stranger, was the father she'd taken a life from, a husband she'd ripped from a grieving wife.

Across the room, Edric approached a woman, her shoulders wracked with sobs. Several attendants hovered around her, their attempts at consolation seemingly in vain. Edric leaned in, whispering something in her ear. The woman's tear-streaked face snapped up, her glossy eyes widening in surprise.

A curtsey followed, a gesture of respect towards the King. Aurelia's heart pounded against her ribs. The woman, Edric's mother, now acknowledged Samael's presence, her grief momentarily eclipsed by recognition.

A pang of guilt, sharper than any blade, sliced through Aurelia. This woman, her victim's wife, was now a victim of Aurelia's own actions as well. The weight of her unintended consequences pressed down on her, threatening to suffocate her.

A hush fell over the room as a new figure emerged from the throng of consolers. This man, with features that mirrored Edric's but etched with a colder cynicism, bowed stiffly to the King.

"Your Majesty," he began, his voice devoid of warmth. "Godfrey, second son of Lord Arnold. I received the token of condolence delivered by Sir Rayden. A kind gesture, under the circumstances." His gaze flickered to Aurelia, a flicker of curiosity momentarily breaching his stoic facade.

"Indeed," Samael replied, his golden eyes gleaming with an amusement that sent shivers down Aurelia's spine. He was deliberately prolonging her agony, she realized, enjoying the play of guilt etched across her face.

"While my father's… passing is a tragedy," Godfrey continued, his voice low and measured, "justice must be served. I trust you are doing everything in your power to find the culprit, Your Majesty."

Samael's gaze flickered back to Aurelia once more, a silent communication passing between them. "Rest assured," he said, his voice smooth as polished obsidian. "We will find this… perpetrator. And they will face the full wrath of the law."

The final words hung heavy in the air, a silent accusation aimed squarely at Aurelia. All eyes turned towards her, a mixture of curiosity and suspicion swirling in their depths. Godfrey, his gaze now fixed on her, spoke politely.

"Forgive my impudence, Your Majesty," he began, "but I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting this… lady." He gestured towards Aurelia, his voice devoid of malice but laced with a desire for information.

Aurelia's lips parted, ready to speak for herself. But before she could utter a word, Samael cut in, his voice dripping with a cruel amusement.

"A slave," he declared, the word a sharp slap in the face. "My slave."

Aurelia's blood ran cold. Slave? The word hung in the air, heavy with implications. A slave, a mere possession, stripped of her identity and her voice.

The word "slave" hung heavy in the air, a suffocating weight that threatened to crush Aurelia. Bile rose in her throat, the image of her parents, murdered by the man who now claimed her as his possession, flashing in her mind. Fury warred with despair within her, but for now, she swallowed the bitter pill of this cruel charade. Samael held her glare giving her a smile as if daring her to defy his words, she had no say in this.

Godfrey, his gaze narrowed with suspicion, continued to scrutinize Aurelia. "A slave," he repeated, the word laced with something akin to disgust. "Convenient timing, wouldn't you say, Your majesty? My father dies, and suddenly, the King acquires a slave."

Aurelia met his gaze defiantly, her chin held high despite the tremor running through her. She would not crumble under this man's scrutiny.

"Indeed," Godfrey continued, his voice low and dangerous. "I spoke with some who attended the ball. A few mentioned seeing a woman… a woman with brown hair, follow my father to a room on the balcony secluded from the crowd. The same room his body was found" His eyes snapped back to Aurelia, his expression hardening as they met her own. A bead of sweat trickled down Aurelia's forehead, a tiny betrayal of the turmoil raging within.

Samael, with a hint of amusement playing on his lips, finally interjected. "Brown hair," he drawled, his voice smooth as velvet, "is a rather common color, wouldn't you agree? Surely, one can't draw such hasty conclusions based on a mere detail."

Godfrey's jaw clenched, his suspicion far from abated. "Perhaps not," he conceded grudgingly. "But coincidences can be… unsettling, don't you think?" His gaze flickered back to Aurelia, lingering for a moment before returning to the King.

Edric, ever the peacemaker, rushed to diffuse the tension. He placed a calming hand on his brother's shoulder, his voice laced with apology. "Forgive Godfrey, Your Majesty," he pleaded. "The loss of our father has… shaken his trust. He means no disrespect."

Godfrey, though his gaze remained fixed on Aurelia, offered a curt nod of begrudging acknowledgment to the King. He was far from convinced, but Edric's intervention prevented further escalation.

Edric's eyes then shifted to Aurelia, his gaze lingering on the unremarkable grey dress she wore. It seemed an odd choice for a slave, he thought, more fitting for a lady of noble birth. A flicker of confusion crossed his features.

"If this… woman is indeed your slave, Your Majesty," he began, his voice tentative, "perhaps it would be more… appropriate for her to wait outside. Slaves typically wouldn't attend such… personal events."

" Slaves,"Samael began, his voice laced with a hint of mockery, "are property. And property, my dear Edric, can be displayed wherever the owner deems fit." His words were a subtle reminder of Aurelia's precarious position, a pawn in his game.

Samael tilted his head, a hint of mockery playing on his lips. "My condolences," he offered to Lord's Arnold wife, his voice devoid of sincerity. Aurelia stole a glance at Edric, her emotions a tangled mess of guilt, anger, and confusion. Then, her gaze fell on the white lilies clutched in her hand.

With a deep breath, Aurelia stepped forward and offered the bouquet to Lord Arnold's wife. The grieving woman looked at the flowers, then at Aurelia, her eyes filled with a flicker of doubt. After a moment, she reached out and took them, a silent acknowledgment of the gesture. Aurelia bowed her head slightly, a small token of respect amidst the chaos of her situation.

Samael, seemingly satisfied with the exchange, turned back towards Edric. "We shall take our leave then," he announced, his voice carrying an air of finality.

Edric blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. "So soon, Your Majesty?" he stammered. "The ceremony hasn't even begun yet." They had come all this way, endured the awkward introductions and accusations, only to offer condolences and deliver lilies? The whole thing felt staged, leaving Edric with a knot of unease in his stomach.

Samael's lips curved into a cold smile. "My presence here," he said, his voice dripping with a veiled threat, "has served its purpose. The rest… is for another time." He cast a pointed glance at Aurelia, the unspoken meaning hanging heavy in the air.

Edric, sensing the King's dismissal and unwilling to question his motives, bowed his head. "Of course, Your Majesty," he murmured, watching as Samael turned and strode towards the exit, his black cape billowing behind him. Aurelia followed close behind, her green eyes flashing with defiance even as her steps faltered slightly.