Chapter 181

Outal stopped mid-step, his hand reaching out to grip Vladya's arm, and leaned closer, whispering, "Wait. Was she the business I had to take care of for a few days? The female in heat who imprinted on him?"

"Uh-huh," Vladya replied, her eyes shifting toward Daemonikai, who walked ahead, his face stony and unflappable. Ever since the gathering, Daemonikai had spoken little beyond what was necessary in court.

"Shit. How did that happen?" Ottai hissed, stealing glances at the grand king. "If he didn't know she was a girl, how did they… how did they manage to spend her heat together?"

Because no one meddles with fate. Vlaya didn't know all the details, but it seemed Daemonikai had met Emeriel under a different identity, not realizing who—or what—she truly was.

"Even if Daemonikai's side of the bond was dormant, it would be fully awake now," Ottai murmured, more to himself than to Vladya. "Not only did they nurture it through the heat, but now he knows the truth. Does this mean… he's going to be mated again?"

Vladya's stare flicked toward Daemonikai again. His old friend's eyes darkened, but he gave no other reaction, remaining silent.

"That's enough, Ottai," Vladya muttered. "You can keep processing this, but keep it to yourself, alright?"

They reached the entrance to the Court of Duty. The grand doors swung open, revealing a hall packed with lords. Vladya swore. He hadn't seen so many lords gathered in one place in a long time. Had every lord in Uraie—and beyond—made the journey to witness the proceedings?

As they stepped inside, all eyes turned toward them. The lords rose in greeting; the atmosphere was tense and crackling. Zaiper was already seated, his face cold and calculating. Vladya and Ottai moved forward, taking their respective seats.

As Vladya scanned the room, he sighed inwardly. This was going to be a very long night.

EMERIEL

In the days that followed, Emeriel's world shrank. Her once spacious bedchamber felt like a prison. On the second day, soldiers escorted her back to her room. She hadn't been sure whether she was being protected or punished with house arrest, like Mistress Sinai, but it didn't take long to figure it out. The locked door and ever-watchful soldiers confirmed her suspicions. It was punishment, plain and simple.

She hadn't been thrown into The Hole or the dungeon, which offered some small comfort. But the absence of chains did nothing to ease her worry. She had asked herself too many questions. Was she being kept here to shield her from the council's wrath, or was she a caged person awaiting judgment?

The next day passed much like the one before. She paced until her feet ached, read dusty books she barely understood, and watched the hours stretch endlessly. Her anxiety grew, slowly consuming her calm and logic.

By the fourth day, the isolation had worn her thin, and she felt sick. If tear ducts could dry up, Emeriel's surely would have. If crying could kill, she would be six feet under. She had resolved to stop crying, but every time she overthought, the floodgates burst anew.

The worst part was the silence. Not a word from King Daemonikai. No visits, no decrees, not even a passing message. Each night, she lay awake, staring at the door, hoping he would come, praying for the sound of his footsteps. Emeriel didn't care what his reaction would be anymore. He could scold her, scream at her, even hurt her. Anything was better than this suffocating quiet.

By the fifth day, Emeriel was exhausted and heartbroken. Even Aekeira hadn't come, meaning she was ordered not to. The isolation was truly her punishment, and if it was meant to break her spirit, it was working. They might as well have thrown her into The Hole.

With only her spiraling thoughts and worries for company, Emeriel was slowly slipping into insanity. She had no idea what was happening beyond her imprisonment, and the not knowing was torture. Was the council still calling for her head? Was there another punishment waiting? Was Aekeira safe? What of Lord Herod? Had he been implicated because of her mistakes? And how long would she be kept here? Another day? A week? A month? Two? The thought made her world spin. It hurt.

Seated at a small table, Emeriel stared blankly at her untouched food. Her appetite was gone. Even the humans who brought her food wouldn't look at her, let alone speak.

The door creaked open. She looked up, and there stood Grand Lord Vladya, staring at her. Her breath caught in her throat as she scrambled to her feet.

"Your Highness," she whispered, her voice small and drained.

The door clicked shut behind him as he entered the quiet room. His eyes swept over her; his expression was grim.

"You've lost weight," he stated flatly.

Emeriel blinked, unsure how to respond. "I—I'm sorry."

Lord Vladya waved off her apology. "Sit down. Eat."

She hesitated, but his hard look made her sink back into her chair.

"I'm not hungry."

"I didn't ask if you were hungry," Lord Vladya said sharply, taking a seat across from her. "I gave you an order. Now, eat."