Chapter 120: Treason

No one dared to question why, even after a long time of waiting in the food hall, King Zyren was still yet to arrive.

At first, talking was scarce, stifled beneath the heavy weight of uncertainty. But the longer time passed, the more it became obvious that he probably wasn’t going to show up—yet still, no one dared to eat, fully aware of the consequences if he did appear.

It wasn’t until everyone noticed Lord Drehk subtly send one of his guards off, only for the man to quickly return and lean down to whisper directly into his ear.

The other lords exchanged subtle glances, wondering what was happening—even if they couldn’t bring themselves to ask Lord Drehk outright.

Still, it wasn’t until Lord Lythari, whose gaze barely ever strayed from Lord Drehk, finally noticed. Her red eyes always lingered on his tall, muscular figure with a trace of hungry desire she didn’t bother hiding. She was enamored, and she wanted it known—only to be taken aback when she saw him casually lift his spoon and slowly start to eat.

Her expression widened, lips parting in disbelief, unable to contain her shock as she stared silently.

The other lords were equally stunned, their attention sharply pivoting to him with various expressions of disbelief and restrained anxiety.

Lythari’s gaze held a note of worry. Lord Virelle, with the red tips of his wild hair, looked amused, already glancing toward the great entrance doors as if he couldn’t wait for Zyren to walk in and catch Drehk mid-bite. Lord Noctare remained quiet and impassive, his translucent red eyes gleaming with the eerie sheen that had made even other vampires tremble at a glance.

His bloodline gift was mind control—but what made it terrifying was how subtle it was. So soft and lulling that even the victim wouldn’t realize what had happened until it was far too late.

Noctare leaned slowly into his seat, graceful and unhurried. After a beat, he reached for his wine and took a sip, becoming the second person to eat after Drehk.

Virelle looked surprised but didn’t hesitate for long. His faith in Lord Noctare was clearly stronger than whatever he had in Drehk, and so he followed suit, gingerly taking a spoonful from the platter in front of him—so small it almost couldn’t be counted as eating.

Among them, Lythari was the only one yet to eat. It wasn’t because she wasn’t hungry. She was starving—but her nerves coiled like a snake beneath her skin. She leaned toward Drehk and whispered low, her words still carrying through the tension-choked air.

"You’re eating? You’re confident?" she asked, clearly wanting to say more but withholding it. The hall was far too crowded. It wasn’t just the lords here.

Drehk didn’t pause. He nodded slightly, chewing slowly and without concern.

At that moment, Lythari stopped debating. Even if King Zyren walked in, the punishment would fall on all the lords—and that was far better than her being the only one who defied tradition. With a deep breath, she picked up her spoon and began to eat, masking her nerves behind a facade of confidence.

Zyren was a good king—but with a cruel, sadistic heart. They all knew that. And if the rumors were true—about what his own father had done to him—then they hadn’t even scratched the surface of the darkness that lurked inside him.

Eating went by slowly. Only the lords dared touch the platters. Other nobles—like Lady Vivian, whose connections to Zyren had earned her a seat at the table—didn’t even think of moving their hands.

If the lords were punished, that was one thing. But for those without the king’s favor, the consequences would be unlivable. Torture. Death. Worse.

Lady Vivian, adorned in her elaborate outfit with layers of fine velvet and glittering jewelry, moved her hands restlessly—but never toward her food. She sat poised and beautiful, but the tension in her shoulders betrayed her panic.

She was waiting for Zyren. Watching the door with bated breath. Dreading what it meant if he never appeared.

He’s fucking that whore, isn’t he? she thought bitterly, panic flaring to hatred inside her chest. Aria. She knew Aria’s story. She’d been smug before, believing that the girl hated Zyren enough to never give in to him.

I’ll kill her! Vivian swore silently, her gaze sharpened with bloodlust as she continued staring at the massive double doors.

But it soon became painfully obvious—Zyren had no intention of showing. Neither did his pet.

The lords continued to eat, slow and calculated. But since no one else followed, the rest whispered in hushed, trembling voices:

"The king’s pet isn’t here... it’s clear what this means."

"Isn’t it obvious? He clearly treats her well."

"Most importantly, she’s not dead! He even killed the ones that poisoned her!"

"I’d wish I was in her place—if I didn’t have to fight for my life. Have you seen her opponent?"

"Don’t be stupid! The king will protect her!"

"He can’t! At most, he’ll teach her how to fight. The blood tournament isn’t something he himself can stop—not unless he wants to rouse the wrath of the people!"

The longer Lady Vivian listened, the more her fury brewed. Even when she tried not to, the words slithered in.

She wanted to leave. But she didn’t dare—not until the lords did. If Zyren walked in, being gone would be worse than eating before him.

Finally, Lord Noctare lifted his glass again and spoke, his voice calm and decisive.

"You are all dismissed."

No one dared to hesitate. They bowed swiftly and hurried out, the tension snapping like a wire as the hall emptied.

"That’s daring," Lord Drehk commented under his breath, still chewing slowly. If Zyren did show up now, Noctare’s head being removed from his shoulders would be the least of anyone’s concerns.

The last lord who disobeyed had died before he even realized it.

But Noctare didn’t respond. He waited. And once the hall was completely emptied, he instructed his guards to lock the doors and ensure no one came near.

Only then did he speak again.

"We all know that King Zyren is not going to show. Which is why I’ve decided to call an unofficial meeting."

The words had barely left his lips when Lord Lythari, she audibly gasped—like he’d just uttered treason instead of a simple statement.