Chapter 9

The insistent rap on the door startled Aurelia from her brooding. She straightened her dress, the unfamiliar silk rustling against her skin. A nervous flutter danced in her stomach as the door creaked open.

Standing before her was a middle-aged man with a stern expression and an air of quiet authority. He wore a pristine black suit, a stark contrast to the vibrant colors of the maids who had assisted her earlier.

"My Lady," he announced in a voice that rumbled like distant thunder, "His Majesty requests your presence for dinner."

Aurelia's shoulders tensed. Dinner with the King? The very thought sent a spike of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Surely, the King must know. Surely, he had figured out it was her who had dealt the fatal blow to Lord Arnold.

A bitter humor flickered across her mind. Here she was, the murderer, invited to dine with the man who had orchestrated her parents' deaths. It was a scene straight out of a twisted fairytale.

Swallowing her apprehension, Aurelia straightened her posture. "Lead the way," she said, her voice surprisingly steady.

The butler inclined his head slightly and turned, his footsteps echoing softly down the plush hallway. Aurelia followed, her emerald eyes taking in the opulent surroundings. The flickering chandeliers cast dancing shadows on the gilded walls, revealing a level of luxury she had only ever dreamed of.

This, she realized, was the inner sanctum of the castle, a world far removed from the bustling halls she had glimpsed during the ball.

Despite the splendor, a cold dread gripped her heart. Beauty, she thought, could be a cruel facade, hiding a darkness that threatened to consume all who ventured within. This gilded cage, this castle that housed her enemy, felt more like a tomb than a place of grandeur.

As they walked, the silence stretched on, broken only by the rhythmic click of her heels against the polished marble floor. A million questions swirled in her mind.

With each step, Aurelia's resolve hardened. She would not crumble under the King's scrutiny. She would play his game, at least until she could find a way to escape this gilded prison and exact her revenge. The taste of metallic vengeance filled her mouth, a bitter counterpoint to the luxurious setting.

Finally, the butler stopped before a set of intricately carved oak doors. He turned to her, his expression unreadable. "The King awaits you, My Lady," he said, his voice a low murmur.

Aurelia pushed open the ornate oak doors, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She took a shaky breath, prepared to see the man who had orchestrated her parents' demise. Instead, the sight that greeted her stole her breath away.

Seated at the head of the long, mahogany dining table, bathed in the warm glow of flickering candles, was the King. But he wasn't what she expected.

Gone was the image of a weary, middle-aged man she had conjured in her mind. Here, bathed in the golden light, sat a man of undeniable beauty, he held an aura of regality though darkness seemed to lurk within. His chiseled features, a perfect blend of sharp angles and smooth planes, held a dangerous allure. His hair, the color of the dark night, framed his face, accentuating the otherworldly glow of his golden eyes.

Those eyes. A jolt of something akin to recognition shot through Aurelia. Hadn't she seen those eyes, gleaming with cruel amusement, amidst the throng of masked figures at the ball? The memory remained elusive, shrouded in the haze of her fall. It appeared that the fall had taken a toll on her memories.

Silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the rhythmic crackle of the fireplace. The elaborately laid table, groaning with an array of exotic delicacies, seemed absurd in this tense atmosphere.

Samael remained motionless, his gaze fixed on her. There was a strange intensity in his golden eyes, a hint of something akin to… curiosity?

The silence stretched on, thick with tension. Aurelia remained rooted near the doorway, her emerald eyes locked with Samael's golden gaze.

Finally, he spoke, his voice laced with mock concern. "Do you intend to grace the door with your presence all night, Or perhaps you've lost your appetite after your… unfortunate encounter last night?" His words hung in the air, a clear reference to Lord Arnold.

Surely he was aware of it. She had taken the life of one of his Lords.

Aurelia gritted her teeth, the forced endearment stinging. She offered a curt curtsy, a silent rebellion against his amusement. "Apologies, Your Majesty," she replied, her voice cool and even.

A young servant materialized beside the King, his movements precise and silent. With a flourish, he pulled out a chair directly across from Samael, setting the stage for an intimate, yet undeniably tense, tête-à-tête.

Aurelia sat on the seat, her back ramrod straight, her gaze flickering to the array of silverware laid before her. The gleam of the knife was a stark contrast to the delicate porcelain plates. For a fleeting moment, a morbid fantasy played across her mind. One swift movement, a well-placed strike, a jab to his throat… but she quickly pushed the thought away. No, not here, not now. Acting impulsively would be a death sentence.

Aurelia's stomach rumbled embarrassingly, a stark contrast to the opulent feast laid out before her. Starvation gnawed at her, a persistent reminder of her captivity. But the thought of raising a fork to her lips filled her with a chilling suspicion.

Was it poisoned? A cruel joke, a slow and agonizing death served on a silver platter? Samael, the man responsible for her parents' demise, wouldn't hesitate to inflict such torture.

The weight of suspicion pressed down on her. Every elegant twist of her silverware, every delicate bite she contemplated taking, felt like a gamble. She stole a glance at Samael, his golden eyes watching her intently. Was there amusement flickering in those depths, or something more sinister?

"Don't tell me," Samael drawled, his voice laced with a hint of amusement, "you're afraid of a little poison?"

The barb hit its mark. Aurelia bristled, her emerald eyes flashing with defiance, and an hint of hatred. "Fear is a luxury I can't afford," she retorted, her voice surprisingly steady. "Your majesty," she continued

A slow smile spread across Samael's face, a smile that sent shivers down her spine. It was a smile devoid of warmth, a smile that spoke of secrets and hidden agendas. "A wise choice," he conceded, his voice a low murmur. "Though, I assure you, the food is perfectly safe. Even for a… someone with such… interesting culinary preferences."

His words hung in the air, heavy with veiled meaning. Aurelia narrowed her eyes, unsure of how to interpret his cryptic statement.

She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the taste, a small indulgence in this tense situation.

Across from her, Samael watched with a hint of amusement playing on his lips. "Enjoying yourself, are we?" he drawled, his voice a smooth caress.

Aurelia opened her eyes, a flicker of defiance replacing the momentary lapse in caution. "The food is… exquisite, Your Majesty," she admitted grudgingly, refusing to give him complete satisfaction. "But even the most delectable meal can be spoiled by unpleasant company."

A low chuckle rumbled from Samael's chest. "Unpleasant company, am I?" he repeated, tilting his head in mock surprise. "That's a rather harsh assessment, wouldn't you say? Here we are, sharing a meal, a rare opportunity for conversation.

"Conversation?" Aurelia scoffed. "Or are you simply toying with your prey, Your Majesty?"

Samael's smile vanished, a flicker of something cold replacing it in his eyes. "Prey?" he echoed, his voice a low growl. "It seems you mistake your position. Here, within these walls, the lines between predator and prey can be… blurry."

The room grew frigid as Samael leaned forward, his golden eyes boring into Aurelia. "Tell me your name. And why you dared to extinguish the life of Lord Arnold within the very walls of my castle."

Aurelia swallowed a hard lump in her throat. The truth was a double-edged sword. Admitting her intention to kill him would be a death sentence. But denying her role in Lord Arnold's demise wouldn't fool him for long.

"Aurelia, your majesty" she said finally, her voice barely a whisper. She couldn't bring herself to reveal her entire identity, not yet. There was too much at stake.

Samael's lips curled into a cruel smile. "A lovely name," he conceded, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "for a murderer."

Aurelia bristled, "Murderer?" she started , "Perhaps the truth is not as clear-cut as you believe, Your Majesty."

"The truth," he countered, his voice steely, "is that a life was taken within my domain. And by my law, the punishment for such a crime is death." He picked up his goblet of wine, swirling the ruby liquid within.

Aurelia choked on a piece of food, her heart hammering against her ribs. Death. The word echoed in her mind, a chilling reminder of the precarious situation she found herself in. She had come for vengeance, not to meet a similar fate,the one her parents had met.

"Death, Your Majesty," she managed to cough out, her voice hoarse, "seems rather… excessive for a simple… misunderstanding."

Samael's eyes narrowed further, his gaze piercing. "Misunderstanding?" he echoed, his voice a low rumble. "Enlighten me, then. How did a simple misunderstanding lead you to cross blades with Lord Arnold?"

Aurelia hesitated, her mind racing. Could she spin a believable lie? One wrong move, and she could be signing her own death warrant. But silence wouldn't save her either.

Taking a deep breath, she plunged headfirst into a carefully constructed story. "I… I arrived at the ball lost and disoriented," she began, her voice trembling slightly with fabricated fear. "A strange man, a man of… authority," she emphasized with a pointed look, "accosted me. There was a struggle, chaos… and then..."

She trailed off with a whimper, hoping it would elicit some semblance of sympathy. It was a gamble, but her only hope of staying alive.

What was she hoping, pity from a cruel man who kill innocent people in a blink of eye without feeling any remorse?

Samael studied her intently, his golden gaze unreadable. The silence stretched on, heavy with suspicion and unspoken accusations.

Aurelia's breath hitched in her throat. Samael's sardonic drawl shattered the fragile hope that had bloomed in her chest. He had seen through her lie, her flimsy narrative falling apart under his scrutiny.

"Ah, I see," he drawled, his golden eyes gleaming with a dangerous amusement. "A damsel in distress, forced into an act of violence. A clever story, Aurelia," he continued, emphasizing her name with a hint of mockery, "but sadly lacking in… credibility."

Panic clawed at her throat. How could he have known? Had he seen through her disguise at the ball? Or was there a traitor in her midst, someone who had revealed her hidden weapon?

"If, as you claim," Samael pressed on, his voice a silky smooth predator's purr, "you were truly accosted by Lord Arnold, then why, pray tell, were you armed? Were guests at my ball expected to bring weapons for… protection?"

His words struck a lethal blow. There was no way to explain the dagger, the very instrument of her failed assassination attempt. It was a damning piece of evidence, a silent witness to her transgression.

Before she could formulate a response, Samael reached across the table with a flourish. A sickeningly familiar glint of metal caught the candlelight. He placed a dagger on the table, its ornate handle echoing the one her aunt had gifted her. But the true horror lay in its blade, faintly stained with a tell-tale crimson red – the dried blood of Lord Arnold.

"This," Samael continued, his voice low and dangerous, "was found on you when my servants discovered you unconscious in the castle gardens. Coercion, you say? It seems there's another side to this… misunderstanding."

Aurelia's world tilted on its axis. There was no escaping the truth now. The dagger, a physical manifestation of her failure, lay before her, an ugly truth staring back at her emerald eyes.

Shame and despair threatened to engulf her. She had killed an innocent man, a pawn in a twisted game of revenge. The very foundation of her mission crumbled beneath the weight of her mistake.

The lie that had painstakingly formed on Aurelia's tongue died before it could be uttered. A sharp rap on the oak door shattered the suffocating silence, momentarily suspending the weight of her guilt. The man who had led her to the dining room entered, his face a stoic mask.

He bowed low before the King, his voice dropping to a murmur as he delivered his message. Aurelia strained to catch the words, but only the hushed murmur reached her ears. However, the subtle shift in Samael's demeanor was impossible to miss. A flicker of surprise, laced with a hint of annoyance, crossed his golden eyes.

Suddenly, Samael rose from his chair, his imposing figure casting a dark shadow across the opulent table. The air crackled with a renewed tension, the unfinished interrogation hanging heavy in the air.

"It seems," he said, his voice a low rumble, "urgent business demands my attention. Enjoy your meal. Consider it a… courtesy, before the true consequences of your actions are addressed."

Samael strolled towards the door, Malcolm followed suit. He abruptly halted behind her, the dagger now clutched in his hands.

Instead of returning it to his possession, he placed it deliberately on the table, the tip resting precariously close to Aurelia's fingers. The dried bloodstains seemed even more pronounced in the flickering candlelight, a stark reminder of her mistake.

"Keep it," He stated," A memento for your failure ..."

He leaned in " Enjoy your remaining freedom, Aurelia," he said, his lips brushing her earlobe, sending a jolt of electricity through her. "It might be shorter than you think."

He straightened up and strode out of the room, leaving Aurelia alone with the remnants of the untouched dinner and the weight of his chilling words. The momentary reprieve offered no comfort

The heavy oak door slammed shut behind him, leaving Aurelia alone with the remnants of the lavish dinner and the weight of her shattered world.

For the first time, fear, cold and sharp, gripped Aurelia's heart. The King was gone, but the danger, it seemed, had only just begun.