Chapter 36: The Worst Kind Of Surprise

••{RHIANNON’S POV}••

It’s been over a month since I married Azræl and became his Empress.

It’s also been over a month since Nayeesha lost consciousness and she still hasn’t woken up.

Every morning, I wake up hoping today will be different. If not for Nayeesha I would have died that night. So I pray Astoria gives her grace and lets her open her eyes, because I can’t bear the thought that she paid for my life with hers.

I stand at the foot of her bed, watching as the maids tend to her.

Two of them sit on either side of Nayeesha, carefully supporting her back and shoulders to keep her upright against the pillows. Another maid sits beside the bed with a small bowl of broth in her hands, slowly feeding her one spoonful at a time.

Nayeesha doesn’t move or make a sound.

Her face looks thinner than it did before, and her arms seem smaller beneath the loose sleeves of her nightgown. Even her hands look more delicate than I remember.

My heart aches the longer I look at her.

She’s been fed every day, yet she’s still wasting away.

I need her to wake up, now more than ever.

She’s the only one in this entire castle who won’t lose control in the presence of my blood. The only one I know can protect me if something goes wrong.

"Is she ever going to wake up?" I ask quietly.

"She’s far stronger than you think," Azræl replies. "She will, eventually."

"Has she ever been like this before?" I ask, turning to face him. "For this long?"

Azræl looks at me for several heartbeats, then his gaze falls to the floor before flicking to Nayeehsa.

"No," he murmurs.

My chest tightens soon after that word leaves his mouth.

"Is this normal?" I ask. "For witches, I mean."

He takes a moment before he answers.

"No. It’s just Nayeesha," he says.

I frown. "Why does her magic do this to her?"

Azræl opens his mouth, but a few seconds pass and not a single word comes out.

"I don’t know," he finally admits. "She’s never told me."

"I thought you two were close," I say. "Why would she keep something like this from you?"

Azræl’s eyes narrow, and his brows immediately furrow as he tilts his head.

"I’m sorry," I mutter under my breath. "I keep asking too many questions."

His gaze softens quickly. "Rhiannon, you don’t have to apologize for being curious."

That earns him a rather tight smile from me.

I cross my arms over my chest and turn back to Nayeesha, but as I look at her, it’s not only her current state that bothers me.

It’s something else.

Something I’ve been trying so hard to ignore.

The maids keep sneaking glances at me from the corner of their eyes when they think I’m not looking.

I’ve noticed it in the halls too.

Guards whose eyes follow me as I walk by, or servants whispering behind my back the moment I pass.

When Azræl first brought me to Darkholme, they looked at me with curiosity.

Now it’s different.

Now, their gazes crawl over me in a way that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand erect.

Azræl has reassured me time and time again that no one in this castle will ever lay a hand on me.

I believe it.

But believing doesn’t stop the shiver that runs down my spine whenever their eyes are on me.

"I want to go back to my chambers," I say quietly.

"I’ll escort you," Azræl offers immediately.

I give him a nod, and together we leave Nayeesha’s chambers.

As we walk through the halls, I find myself glancing at him every few seconds. Sometimes I catch him already staring at me, yet neither of us says a word to the other.

It’s always like this between us.

Quiet.

We never have anything to talk about unless it’s about my blood or rules meant to keep me safe.

As we continue down the halls in silence, I can’t help but think about how he’s changed so much since our disaster of a wedding.

He’s always nearby now, too nearby sometimes.

He seems determined to keep me company, often entering my chambers without warning and sitting with me for hours.

He doesn’t touch me.

He rarely speaks.

But he stays.

And I appreciate it because I feel so lonely most of the time.

When we reach my chambers, he opens the door for me. I casually stroll inside, but when I don’t hear his footsteps following after me, I quickly turn around only to find him still standing outside the door.

"You’re not coming in?" I ask, my brows pulling together.

He gives me a small smile.

"I’d love to," he says. "But there are... other matters I need to attend to. I’ll come back soon, I promise."

My shoulders drop.

"Alright," I murmur, giving him a small nod.

He lingers for a heartbeat longer as if he wants to say something more. But he closes the door instead.

I don’t know why. But I stay there, listening to the sound of his footsteps until they fade.

With a tired sigh, I walk over to my bed and flop face down onto the mattress, letting out a frustrated groan as I bury my face in the pillows.

I stay like that for a few seconds before rolling onto my back.

For a long moment, I do nothing but stare at the ceiling. My gaze drifts around the room, and as soon as it lands on the wardrobe an idea comes to me.

I sit up and walk over to it, opening the doors to reveal rows upon rows of gowns.

Azræl had the seamstresses make so many for me that I don’t even think I’ve worn up to half of them yet.

I change out of the gown I’m wearing and before I know it, I’m standing in front of the mirror, turning from side to side as I try on gown after gown.

"This one is pretty," I murmur.

I change into another.

"Meh..."

I change into another.

"This one is definitely too much."

By the time I’ve lost count of the number of gowns I’ve tried on, I find myself wondering what else Azræl has sent me.

My eyes wander toward the vanity.

I walk over and stare at the collection of crowns arranged across it.

My brows lift as I pick up the first one and place it carefully on my head. Then I look at the mirror and tilt my head to one side.

"Empress Rhiannon," I say in a deep voice, trying to mimic Azræl.

I immediately snort at myself.

I try another crown.

Then another.

Some are simple. Others are so heavy that I have to wonder how anyone is supposed to wear them without getting a headache.

I keep switching between them, admiring myself in the mirror and occasionally making ridiculous faces at my reflection.

All the while, I’m waiting.

Waiting for the door to open.

For Azræl to return.

But he doesn’t.

Eventually, I end up face down on the mattress again, letting out another long, frustrated groan.

"Where is he?" I mumble into the pillow.

I don’t know how long it’s been, but it feels as if I’ve been waiting forever.

I always thought being newly married to someone would come with endless moments of joy... warmth... surprises... adventure.

But here I find myself, absolutely bored to death.

The moment I sit up, my eyes widen when I see the sun setting over the horizon.

That’s enough!

If Azræl won’t come to me, then I’ll go to him.

Even though he told me never to leave my chambers without him, I storm toward the doors. As soon as I swing them open, the guards outside cross their swords instantly, blocking my path.

"Your Majesty," one of them says. "The Emperor ordered us to make sure no one enters and that you don’t leave without him."

I lift my chin.

"I am your Empress," I say, my tone cold as ice. "And let me remind you that I singlehandedly bathed these halls in vampire blood once. Move out of the way now, because if I lose my temper, Azræl will be the least of your worries."

They exchange terrified glances with one another before stepping aside. I move past them and begin storming down the halls.

As I round a corner, a maid nearly collides with me.

"My apologies, Empress," she says quickly, bowing her head. "I wasn’t looking where I was—"

"Take me to Azræl’s chambers."

"As you wish," she replies quickly. "This way."

She turns and leads me through the halls until we reach a pair of towering doors, their dark surface covered in intricate gold metalwork with a golden crown emblazoned at the center.

"Thank you," I tell the maid. "You may leave."

She bows again and hurries off.

I take a deep breath before pushing the doors open, and the moment I step inside, the room steals my breath.

Azræl’s chambers are massive beyond reason. A towering vaulted ceiling stretches above me, covered in an enormous painted mural of the ængels falling from a darkened sky. Tall arched windows stretch almost from the floor to the ceiling, framed by black curtains embroidered with gold. Several shelves cover entire sections of the walls, filled with books and scrolls. A massive throne-like chair sits beside the fireplace, overlooked by a collection of swords and other weapons hanging on the wall. And a balcony extends beyond the chamber, overlooking the castle towers and the lands beyond.

It’s all stunning...

But it’s empty except for the two maids standing frozen beside the bed, staring at me as if I’ve suddenly grown another head.

"Good evening, Your Majesty," they greet.

"Where is Azræl?" I ask.

They exchange a glance before one of them speaks.

"I last saw His Majesty with Lady Delilah. They were heading toward her chambers."

My brows immediately pull together. "What? When was this?"

"It wasn’t too long ago, Your Majesty," she replies.

"Take me there," I say without hesitation.

I turn around and leave the room without another word.

He said he’ll be back soon. Then he left me waiting until sunset just so he could be with Delilah?

My body feels hot as anger burns in my chest.

When we finally reach Delilah’s chambers, I dismiss the maid with a wave of my hand. But just as I move to open the doors, I freeze.

My brows slowly knit together as I lean against the wood.

It’s muffled, but I can hear very strange sounds coming from inside. I take a step back and stare at the doors for a few heartbeats.

The moment I push them open and step inside—my heart stops.

Delilah is naked in bed on all fours, her back arched high.

Azræl is right behind her naked too, his hands gripping her hips and his cock mid-thrust.

My entire body goes still...

And so do theirs.