Page 5

5

SERA

T he room is beautiful.

It should not feel like a prison.

But it does.

The bed beneath me is softer than anything I have ever known, layered in black silks and deep red furs, their texture smooth against my bare skin. The air is overflowing with incense, spiced and heady, curling in lazy tendrils from the bronze burner set upon a carved table near the hearth. Heavy drapes of black velvet swallow the walls, embroidered with silver filigree—elegance woven into suffocation.

And beneath it all, I am still a prisoner.

My wrists are raw where the shackles used to be, the memory of them burned into my skin even though they are gone now. He removed them after the first night, but not out of kindness.

He doesn’t think I need them.

I exhale slowly, pressing my palm flat against the coverlet. The silence is thick. Not comforting. Not peaceful. A quiet that listens.

I am alone in this chamber. But I am not unwatched.

He is still here.

Somewhere.

I do not look for him. I have learned by now that he prefers the chase, the game of catching me unaware. And I refuse to play.

Instead, I turn my gaze to the arched window. The view beyond is nothing but a lie of freedom—the sprawling towers of House Drazharel, winding bridges and towering spires bathed in moonlight. Somewhere beyond those walls, the world moves on without me.

Yet, I am still here.

Not dead. Not tortured. Not used.

Not yet.

That is what terrifies me.

I do not understand why.

Why keep me? Why let me live?

Why let me sit in this room filled with silks and gold while others rot in chains?

He wants something.

But he has not asked.

Not yet.

That is worse than all the rest.

The fire crackles in the hearth, throwing golden light across the expanse of polished marble and blackened steel. I do not move when the air shifts behind me, when the smell of him cuts through the incense—dark spice and cold steel, something rich and ruinous that seeps into my lungs and stays.

He is standing behind me. Watching. Waiting.

I keep my spine straight, my hands resting delicately in my lap, my gaze fixed on the window. If he wants to speak, he will. If he wants me to sing, he will ask.

He does neither.

The silence stretches, a tether between us pulled too tight.

"You haven’t sung for me again."

His voice is smooth, but there’s something beneath it—something sharp.

I do not flinch.

"I didn’t realize I was required to entertain you," I murmur. My own voice is soft but not weak. A whisper wrapped in a blade.

A pause, footsteps. Measured. Slow.

The chair opposite me scrapes against the stone as he takes a seat. I let my gaze flick toward him, careful, assessing.

He is stretched out like a predator at ease, one arm resting against the arm of the chair, long fingers drumming against the dark wood. His silver eyes gleam under the flickering candlelight, unreadable, unnatural .

He is still waiting for me to answer.

I swallow hard, refusing to let my body betray me.

"You haven’t asked me to sing," I say instead.

A muscle jumps in his jaw, but his expression does not change. "Do I need to?"

I tilt my head slightly. "You give orders, my lord. I only follow them."

A slow, sharp smirk.

"You think obedience will keep you safe?"

I do not answer.

There is no safety here.

Only a waiting game, and I’m unaware of the rules.

Days pass, and I do not sing.

The silence between us grows heavier, an entity in itself, pressing against my gut.

He waits and I don’t know what is he waiting for.

He does not touch me.

He does not demand.

He simply… watches.

It is worse than everything else.

I see it.

The way his silver gaze lingers when he thinks I do not notice. The way his fingers curl against the arm of his chair, as if resisting some unseen urge.

As if my very presence is a thing that unsettles him.

That is power.

I am not supposed to have power over him.

But I do.

For the first moment since being dragged into this gilded cage, I feel something dangerous stir beneath my skin.

He is waiting for something.

I can’t help but wonder, what happens when I finally give it to him?