Her scent was finally growing stronger, a clear thread in the damp, green gloom. Tenebrarum moved with predator's grace, sure he was moments from finding her—only to see a different figure already at her side.
Kaelen. And his hands were on her mask.
Tenebrarum froze in the shadow of the hedge, his grip tightening on the dagger until the leather of the hilt groaned. The blade felt like an extension of his own cold fury.
He could kill Kaelen with a look. With a thought. He could carve the prince's name into the ivy with his blood.
But he tried to stay reserved.
I'm now truly sure, Tenebrarum thought, the certainty settling like a shard of ice in his chest. She is breaking my rule. She's with this fool.
A dark, quiet promise took shape in his mind, colder than the steel in his hand.
After this game, I'll make sure your head is sliced clean from your shoulders, Flavia you're dead to me.
But he couldn't cover up the fact he was actually jealous.
The realization was a poison in his veins, far more corrosive than rage.
It ignited something primal within him. A low, grinding sound emanated from his chest—not human, not anymore.
His fingers began to elongate, joints cracking softly as dark, claw-like tips pushed through the leather of his gloves. His shoulders broadened, his form swelling against the confines of his dark attire, a beast straining against a skin not its own.
Only the cold, faceless mask remained fixed, a porcelain void hiding the monster underneath.
He saw her yesterday with Kaelen, lingering too close to her chamber door. And now this—hands on her mask, in the shadows of the king's own maze. It was proof. Rightful proof.
And the whispers… The court's sly murmur of a stolen kiss in the kitchen shadows.
But was that true?
Perhaps news are changed when it touches different lips.
But to him she hadn't just disobeyed. She had defiled the command he gave.
She had crossed a line drawn in blood and shadow.
With a shuddering breath, Tenebrarum wrenched his gaze away from the sight of Kaelen and Aurelia. His claws retracted with a soft, sickening scrape. He turned on his heel and stalked away, the green shadows swallowing him whole.
His departure was not retreat. It was reclamation.
Ten paces later, his gaze—cold and assessing—settled on another figure moving cautiously through a leafy archway: Isabelle.
As the rule said, the girl you find is your partner for the game.
Without a word, without ceremony, he closed the distance. His hand shot out, not to greet her, but to claim. He snatched the mask from her face in one swift, violent motion, the sound of tearing silk loud in the quiet. He did not look at her uncovered features. He simply turned and began walking again, the crumpled mask discarded in the dirt.
For a heartbeat, Isabelle stood stunned, her face bare to the damp air. Then, a slow, triumphant smile touched her lips.
He chose me.
This was the opportunity she had craved—closer time with Tenebrarum, the most enigmatic and feared of them all. She hurried after his retreating form, her steps light, her mind already weaving fantasies of alliance, of whispered secrets in the hedge, of power shared.
She had just become the weapon he would use to break someone else.
---
"I've been searching for you since the whistle blew," Kaelen said, a relieved smile touching his lips as he looked into Aurelia's wide, frightened eyes.
"That snake… it's more than dangerous. It's a monster. Have you seen Sorana?"
"Who's Sora—"
"My maiden," Aurelia cut in, her voice tightening with sudden dread. Her gaze grew distant, seeing not Kaelen but the crimson spray through the leaves, the attendant's lifeless form. She was suddenly, sickeningly sure the Ash-veiler had claimed more than one life already.
Please, not her too.
She swallowed against the dryness in her throat, her eyes desperate. "Please, Kaelen. Tell me you've seen her."
"I haven't." His answer was too quick, too clean.
"Then we look for her." Aurelia turned, already moving, her fear for Sorana overriding the terror of the maze.
His hand shot out, closing firmly around her wrist. "Aurelia, wait. She'll be fine. The objective is the snake. We're meant to chase it, not chase each other."
She froze. Not at his touch, but at his words. Slowly, she turned her head, her eyes finding his. The desperation in them had hardened into something colder, sharper.
"In a moment like this," she said, her voice low and trembling with a different kind of fear, "this is what you think about? Rules? The game?" She wrenched her wrist from his grasp. "Sorana is not a distraction. She is important to me."
The disappointment in her gaze was a quiet, devastating thing. It wasn't anger. It was the shattering of a fragile hope—that in the green and the blood, someone might still remember what it meant to care for a person, not just a prize.
"I apologise," he said, the words smooth but hollow. "You're right. Let's go. Let's look for her."
His hand found hers again—a gesture meant to reassure, to unite. But his grip was absent, his mind already calculating the lost time, the diverted path, the advantage slipping away to other princes who still chased the snake.
He couldn't hide it. Not from her. In the slight stiffness of his fingers, the impatient set of his jaw, the way his eyes kept flicking toward the deeper maze—Aurelia saw it plainly.
He saw this as a waste of time...
---
Prince Magnus's voice cut through the green silence like a blade. "You. Come here."
He didn't ask. He dragged a masked figure from behind a leafy curtain, his grip bruising. With a swift, careless motion, he tore the mask from her face.
"M-My prince," Sorana stammered, dropping into an automatic curtsy before she'd even fully registered who held her.
Magnus stared down at her, his expression a mix of annoyance and cold appraisal. "Why does it have to be a useless person?" he muttered, more to himself than to her. "So, you're on my team, then."
"Have you seen the snake?" he added, his gaze sharpening.
"Yes, my lord," she whispered, the memory tightening her throat. "I… I ran from it."
"Perfect!" A predatory smile touched his lips, devoid of warmth. "Then we'll track it down."
"Sir?" Sorana's body went cold, then hot with a fresh wave of sweat. She had just escaped with her life. The idea of seeking the creature out was madness.
Magnus read her terror and his lip curled in disdain. "Why must you be so useless? We find the snake. We bring it. We earn the respect of the court. That," he said, leaning in, his voice a low, hard command, "is all that matters."
------------------------
To be continued...