Chapter 264: Garden

{Still editing}Aira’s eyes widened ever so slightly, though her hand didn’t falter as she lifted another spoonful of food to her lips. Her expression remained composed—calm, distant—but beneath that stillness, something dark stirred. Whatever Zyren was planning tonight, she didn’t care. Or at least, she told herself she didn’t. But even as she sat at that long, gold-framed table surrounded by nobles who whispered in between bites of their lavish meal, the quiet rage rising within her betrayed her composure.

Her fingers tightened around the spoon, harder than necessary. The polished silver bent with a soft ping, the metal giving way beneath her clenched grip. Aira quickly set it down, her movements fluid, graceful, almost too casual—as if she were merely adjusting it. With delicate precision, she straightened the utensil again, forcing it back into shape before anyone could notice.

Her eyes shifted across the table, landing on Clara. The woman’s smile was far too bright, her laughter soft and lilting as she turned her gaze toward Aira with a flicker of something almost taunting in her expression. Aira met her eyes for only a moment before she turned her attention away, unwilling to grant Clara the satisfaction of a reaction.

Instead, her gaze fell briefly upon King Jared seated to her left. His posture was relaxed, yet his eyes told a different story—smoldering, heated, fixed briefly on the faint marks at the base of Aira’s neck. She hadn’t been able to fully conceal them, no matter how carefully she’d tried. The reminder of them made her chest tighten, though she didn’t let it show.

Even he, with his brooding authority and subtle arrogance, couldn’t hold her interest tonight.

She inhaled deeply, steadying herself, and forced her focus back to the meal in front of her. If she kept her head down, she could finish quickly and leave. That was all she wanted—to eat, to stay unnoticed, and to slip out quietly before Zyren decided to draw her into whatever game he was playing tonight.

But peace never lasted long in his presence.

Lady Vivian, seated several places down, suddenly pushed her chair back and rose to her feet. Aira’s eyes flicked up sharply. She hadn’t expected the woman to speak—not after the last humiliation Zyren had subjected her to. Surely Vivian would’ve learned to stay silent by now.

Apparently not.

"Your Majesty!" Lady Vivian called, her voice echoing slightly through the hall as all heads turned in her direction. Her painted lips curved into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "In regards to Harriet—the girl who was to serve as your pet—she lost, but it has come to my attention that—"

She didn’t get the chance to finish.

"SIT."

The command hit like thunder.

Zyren’s voice, sharp and edged with power, cracked through the room with such force that even the flickering candles seemed to waver. His red eyes flashed dangerously, glowing like embers in the dim light as every person in the hall froze.

Lady Vivian went pale. Her knees seemed to give way beneath her as she fell back into her seat with a soft thud, her body trembling, eyes wide with shock and terror. The harshness of Zyren’s tone left no room for argument—no room for air.

Silence followed, heavy and suffocating.

Aira didn’t move. Her expression remained neutral, though her heart had begun to pound. She had seen Zyren angry before, but this was something else—something colder, sharper.

Without another word, Zyren rose to his feet. He’d barely touched his food, the plate before him still nearly full, yet the moment he stood, everyone else instinctively stopped eating. It was as though his movement had drawn all the air out of the room.

Aira set her spoon down quietly and wiped her lips with the cloth at her side. Something inside her shifted. Oddly, she felt lighter, almost amused, though she couldn’t quite understand why. Maybe it was the thrill of watching Lady Vivian get silenced, or perhaps it was simply the realization that Zyren’s temper wasn’t directed at her—for once.

She stood as well, more out of instinct than reason. She knew he would call for her later. He always did. Whatever private meeting he intended to have, she would be summoned when he was ready.

Zyren moved past her seat, his steps measured, deliberate. Aira kept her eyes down, pretending to be absorbed in straightening her gown. But when his boots stopped directly in front of her, her body tensed. Slowly, she lifted her gaze.

He was smiling.

It wasn’t a warm smile, not even close—it was sly, dangerous, the kind of smile that promised chaos.

Before Aira could react, Zyren leaned down. His hand slid around the back of her neck, firm and possessive, his fingers brushing against the marks Jared had been staring at earlier. Then, with an audacity that froze the entire room, he kissed her.

Deeply.

Right there, in front of every noble, every guard, and King Jared.

Aira went rigid, too stunned to pull away. The heat of his mouth, the soft pressure, the scent of him—dark, sharp, metallic—filled her senses before she could even think to resist. When he finally drew back, her breath hitched.

Not that she could have pushed him away even if she’d wanted to.

He looked down at her with a ghost of a smirk, his eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction, before turning and walking out of the room. His long coat brushed against her arm as he passed, leaving behind the faint scent of iron and something cold.

The silence that followed was unbearable.

Aira could feel every pair of eyes on her—nobles, guards, even the servants by the wall. She kept her expression perfectly calm, forcing her heartbeat to slow, pretending that the kiss had meant nothing. That she was unaffected.

Inside, however, she was trembling—not from fear, but from something different.

Annoyance.

She sat back down as if nothing had happened. Her hands, though steady, clenched slightly beneath the table. King Jared’s eyes lingered on her for a long moment, dark and unreadable, before he rose wordlessly and strode out of the hall.

One by one, the guards began to file out behind him. The lords followed soon after. Aira ignored them all, continuing to eat her now-cold food as if the room hadn’t just shifted beneath her feet.

Finally, only a handful of people remained.

She could feel Clara’s gaze burning into her before she even looked up. When their eyes met across the room, Clara stood and began walking toward her, her steps unhurried yet purposeful.

Aira resisted the urge to sigh. The last thing she wanted was a conversation.

Clara stopped in front of her chair, her expression polite, though there was a glimmer of curiosity—or was it challenge?—in her amber eyes. Her furry ears twitched slightly as she tilted her head.

"I saw the garden on my way in," Clara said, her tone calm and pleasant. "Would you mind showing me?"

Aira studied her for a moment. The request was simple, yet there was something beneath it—something that didn’t feel quite like an innocent invitation.

She considered refusing. The words hovered on her tongue. But then she caught herself. Besides, what harm could there be in showing her the garden?

Taking a quiet breath, she looked up and smiled. The motion felt mechanical, but it was convincing enough.

"Of course," Aira said smoothly. "It would be a pity if you never truly saw it before you left."

Clara’s smile widened, and before Aira could react, the woman slipped her hand around Aira’s arm as though they were old friends. The touch was light, yet oddly firm, and Aira found herself being gently but insistently guided toward the door.

Her forced smile didn’t falter as they stepped out of the great hall. The air outside was cooler, carrying the faint scent of night-blooming flowers and damp stone. The corridor stretched ahead of them, lit by torches that cast long, flickering shadows along the marble walls.

Clara’s grip on her arm remained, her thumb brushing against Aira’s sleeve every few steps. It wasn’t threatening, exactly, but it wasn’t comforting either.

’She’s looks young,’ Aira thought, glancing sideways at the woman beside her. Too young to be so composed, too sure of herself. There was something dangerous beneath that charm, something Aira couldn’t quite name.

They turned a corner and exited through an archway that led into the palace garden. The night was quiet, save for the gentle hum of insects and the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. Silver moonlight poured over the flowers and fountains, making the entire place shimmer like a dream.

Aira inhaled deeply, grounding herself.

"There’s no way she can attack or kidnap me in the castle," she told herself silently. Zyren might be cruel, manipulative, and unpredictable, but one thing was certain—he wouldn’t allow anyone else to harm what he considered his.

For whatever reason twisted his mind, she knew she was still under his protection.

And for now, that was enough.

Still, as she glanced at Clara walking beside her, her smile bright and her eyes far too knowing, Aira couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was coming next... wouldn’t be peaceful.