Bettina closed the heavy mahogany door to her room with a quiet click, the sound muffled by the thick carpet. She stood there for a moment, letting the wave of disappointment wash over her. It wasn't just that she was dismissed; it was how Erich had done it. His voice was cold, his manner authoritative, completely wiping away the soft affection she had sensed in the car.
She walked to her desk, tossing her bag aside, the vibrant memory of the "guest" still prickling at her skin. Arnold. He had the same chiseled look as Erich—an unnerving perfection—but his eyes, despite their warmth, held a depth that felt ancient, almost dangerous. Bettina was accustomed to Erich's aloofness, but Arnold carried the weight of power, too, a different kind of intensity she couldn't place.
"I need to talk to our guest."
The phrase echoed in her mind. It was clearly more than a casual business meeting. Erich's odd trip to the university, the way his knuckles were white on the steering wheel, the tight silence in the car—it all clicked into place. Something was wrong, and whatever it was, it involved Arnold, and it was serious enough to exclude her entirely.
She paced the length of the room, her curiosity battling with her deep-seated desire to be a good guest and student. She was supposed to be studying for her upcoming exams, but the textbook on her desk seemed useless. She didn't want lunch, she wanted answers. She pressed her ear to the door, listening for muffled voices, but the house remained silent, the heavy walls swallowing all sound.
Downstairs in the living room, the tension between the brothers had not dissipated; it had crystallized into a hard, shared certainty of coming conflict.
"This is not a game, Erich," Arnold repeatedrunning a hand through his dark, perfectly styled hair. "The rules for us are different now. Our grandfather's time was one of hiding. We are one of authority. If the council learns you are next in line for the throne and actively courting a human consort, they will not just remove you. They will cull her."
Erich's cold facade finally cracked, replaced by a flash of primal fury. "Then let them try," he growled, the color of his eyes shifting infinitesimally in the subdued light. "I am not a child playing at defiance, Arnold. I have waited longer than you can imagine to claim what I desire. The High Council may fear Mother and Father, but they will learn to fear me more."
Arnold knew that look. It was the absolute, unyielding power of their lineage, the power that had earned Erich the title of Chairman despite his relative youth—or, perhaps, because of his centuries of experience. "I know your strength," Arnold conceded, his voice dropping back to a desperate plea. "But you are making an impossible choice. Protect the throne, or protect the humanYou cannot do both."
"Watch me," Erich stated, his voice now dangerously smooth. He walked to the window, staring out at the expansive grounds, his focus turning inward. "Our parents gave me one useful warning: Bettina is too weak. Not too weak for me, but too weak for them. She is an ordinary, fragile girl."
Arnold waited, knowing this was the moment of decision.
Erich turned back, his expression a mask of chilling determination. "Go back to our parents. Tell them I received their message and their guest. Tell them I will attend the next meeting as required. But also tell them that Bettina is under my direct, absolute protection, and any move against her will be met with the full force of my response. She is not to be touched."
"And if they use her to bait you?" Arnold asked.
Erich's jaw tightened. "Then they will learn what happens when a humanlife is used as a chess piece against the next King." Arnold sighed, a sound heavy with resignation and fear. He knew the conversation was over. He had delivered the warning, and now he had to deliver the declaration of war.
As Arnold left the room, the silence rushed back, no longer merely tense but filled with a profound sense of foreboding. Erich remained by the window, his heart not swelling with love, but settling into the grim, hard shape of his ancient duty. He had to prepare. Not just for the council, but for Bettina.
She needed to be stronger. And he was the only one who could make her that way.