Chapter 3 The Kings Claim
The silence between them was thick. Suffocating.
Aria's heart pounded so loudly she feared he could hear it, each beat echoing in her skull like a drum of war.
"You belong to me now, Aria."
The words lingered in the air, curling around her like invisible shackles.
She hated it. Hated the way he spoke as if her will did not matter, as if her entire existence was his to command. Hated that a part of her—buried deep beneath layers of fear and anger—believed him.
Kieran Vale was a man who did not need to repeat himself. His word was law. His mere presence commanded obedience.
But Aria had spent her life enduring cruelty. She had been beaten, starved, broken—and yet, she had survived.
She had been nothing more than a servant, a shadow in the background, but she had held onto the one thing they could never take from her.
Her will.
And she would not let him take it from her now.
"I do not belong to anyone," she said, her voice quiet but firm.
A dangerous flicker of amusement danced in Kieran’s golden eyes. "No?"
Aria forced herself to hold his gaze. "No."
Kieran exhaled a slow breath, as if her defiance intrigued him rather than angered him.
Then, without warning, he reached for her.
Aria flinched as his fingers brushed against her jaw, tilting her chin up with a featherlight touch that did not match the storm brewing behind his eyes.
"You are trembling," he murmured.
She was. But it was not from cold.
It was from him.
From the power thrumming in the air between them, from the way his presence suffocated her senses, from the sheer magnitude of him standing so close.
Aria swallowed, but she did not look away.
"If you wish to survive in my court, little one," Kieran continued, his voice dangerously soft, "I suggest you learn when to kneel."
Aria’s stomach twisted.
She knew how to kneel. She had spent her life bowing before those who saw her as nothing more than filth beneath their feet.
But this felt different.
Kneeling before him felt like something else entirely.
Something permanent.
Something she did not understand.
She clenched her fists at her sides. "And if I refuse?"
A slow smirk curved his lips.
"Then you will learn," he said simply.
A shiver ran down her spine.
Before she could respond, the heavy doors behind them creaked open.
A guard stepped inside, bowing his head. "Your Majesty, the council has gathered as you requested."
Kieran did not turn. Did not look away from her.
His golden eyes remained locked on hers, his fingers still resting against her jaw.
Then, finally, he released her.
Aria inhaled sharply, her skin burning where he had touched her.
"Return to your chambers," Kieran commanded. "You will be summoned when I am ready for you."
It was not a request.
Aria hesitated for only a moment before turning on her heel and walking away.
She could feel his gaze on her back, burning into her like a brand.
And somehow, she knew—
This was only the beginning.
—
The palace felt different after that.
The moment she stepped back into the halls, she felt it. The shift.
Before, the nobles and servants had whispered about her as if she were nothing more than an amusing distraction, a passing curiosity.
Now, they looked at her with something else.
Suspicion.
Resentment.
Fear.
The king had claimed her.
And that made her a threat.
Aria ignored the stares as she made her way back to the chambers she had been given.
She had barely stepped inside when she heard the door click shut behind her.
She turned sharply, expecting to see one of the palace maids or another guard.
Instead, she found herself face to face with someone else.
Lady Selene.
She stood by the door, arms crossed, her icy blue eyes glinting with barely concealed rage.
"You look different," Selene mused, her gaze sweeping over Aria’s gown. "Less like a servant. More like a prize."
Aria’s fingers curled into fists. "Why are you here?"
Selene smiled, but there was no warmth in it.
"You truly do not understand your place, do you?" she asked, tilting her head. "You believe that because the king has taken an interest in you, you are untouchable?"
Aria did not respond.
Selene stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"Let me explain something to you, little human," she said, her tone like a blade sliding between ribs. "The king may find you amusing now, but he will tire of you. And when he does, I will be the one left standing."
Aria exhaled slowly. "You must be very afraid of me if you’ve come all this way just to warn me."
Selene’s smile vanished.
For the first time, there was something real in her expression.
A flicker of something vulnerable.
"Do you have any idea what he is?" Selene asked, her voice quieter now. "What he is capable of?"
Aria’s breath caught.
Because for all her anger, for all her defiance—
No.
She didn’t know.
Kieran Vale was powerful. That much was obvious. But there was something else beneath the surface, something dark and terrible.
Something Selene had seen firsthand.
Aria met Selene’s gaze, searching for any hint of deception.
But all she found was cold, hard truth.
Selene stepped back, her expression unreadable.
"You may think yourself strong," she said. "But strength means nothing to a man like him."
Then, without another word, she turned and left.
Aria stood there for a long time, her thoughts a whirlwind of confusion, fear, and something she could not quite name.
Because for all of Selene’s warnings—
For all of her venom and jealousy—
There had been something else in her voice.
Not just anger.
Not just hatred.
But desperation.
And that frightened Aria more than anything.
The chamber felt smaller after Selene left, suffocating in its grandeur, a prison disguised in luxury. The gown clinging to Aria’s body felt heavier, the silk pressing against her skin like a second layer of chains, a reminder that she was not free. Not anymore. Not since the king had set his sights on her.
She stood in the middle of the vast room, the echo of Selene’s words still ringing in her ears, wrapping around her like a noose. Do you have any idea what he is? The question haunted her, burrowing into her mind like a thorn she could not remove. She had spent her life fearing the nobles, fearing the wolves that ruled this world with an iron grip, but Kieran was different. There was something else lurking beneath his gaze, something more than the power he exuded, something ancient, something monstrous.
Aria swallowed hard, her fingers trembling as she reached for the edge of the dressing table, needing something solid to anchor herself. The carved wood was cold beneath her palm, grounding her in reality, reminding her that she was still here, still breathing, still alive—for now. But for how long?
Would Kieran grow tired of her? Would he discard her as Selene had warned, or was there something more sinister at play? Why her? Why claim her at all? She was nothing. No one. A mere servant plucked from obscurity and thrust into a world where she did not belong. She had spent her life being invisible, surviving by staying unnoticed. And now, she was the center of attention, the subject of whispers and glares, the object of both desire and hatred.
Aria squeezed her eyes shut, willing the rising panic to settle, to be swallowed down as she had always done. She could not afford to break now. Whatever game Kieran was playing, whatever his reasons for keeping her here, she had to survive it. She had no choice.
A soft knock at the door made her jerk her head up, her heart slamming into her ribs. For a moment, she thought it was Selene again, returning to throw more venomous words in her face. But the voice that followed was not hers.
"My lady, the king has summoned you."
The words sent an icy shiver down her spine.
Her fingers curled into the wood of the table, nails digging into the polished surface. She had known this would come. She had known she would not be left alone forever. Kieran had claimed her, and now, he had called for her.
A deep breath did nothing to steady her.
With slow, deliberate movements, she turned away from the table, her hands smoothing over the fabric of her gown as if that would make her feel more composed, more prepared for whatever awaited her beyond the door. But she knew it wouldn’t. Nothing could prepare her for the king.
The door opened the moment she stepped forward, revealing a guard in polished armor. His face was unreadable, his posture stiff, his gaze carefully avoiding hers. He did not offer an explanation, nor did he give her time to ask questions. He merely turned on his heel, expecting her to follow.
And so she did.
The walk through the palace was different this time.
Before, she had been led through its halls as a servant, invisible to those around her, nothing more than a shadow in a world that did not care for her existence. Now, she was watched. Eyes followed her every move, some curious, some wary, some filled with open resentment.
The nobles whispered behind their hands, their words carrying through the grand corridors like venom.
"Why her?"
"A human? How absurd."
"She will not last."
Aria kept her chin high, forcing herself not to react, forcing herself to pretend that she did not hear them, that their words did not cut into her like sharpened knives. She had learned long ago that showing weakness only invited more cruelty.
But she felt it. The weight of their stares, the unspoken threats behind their words. She was not welcome here. She was an intruder in their world, a disruption in the carefully crafted hierarchy they had built.
And they hated her for it.
The throne room loomed ahead, its massive doors stretching toward the ceiling, adorned with intricate carvings of wolves and moons, of ancient battles and victories long past. Two guards stood on either side, their spears crossed over the entrance.
At the sight of her approaching, they moved aside.
The doors swung open without a word.
And there he was.
Kieran Vale sat upon the throne like a predator at rest, draped in black, his golden eyes gleaming beneath the light of the chandeliers. He was power incarnate, carved from something more than flesh and bone, something dark and unyielding.
He did not need a crown to command a room.
He did not need to speak to demand obedience.
The very air shifted around him, bending to his will, as if even the world itself knew who ruled it.
Aria’s breath caught in her throat.
She had seen him before, had felt the force of his presence before, but standing before him now, under the full weight of his gaze, was something else entirely.
"Come forward," he said, his voice a low command.
Her feet moved before she could think, drawn toward him like a moth to a flame, helpless against the force that pulled her into his orbit. She stopped at the base of the platform, the marble cold beneath her feet, her heart hammering against her ribs.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
He simply watched her, studying her in that way of his, as if he were peeling back her layers, as if he could see every thought she tried to hide, every fear she tried to swallow.
Then, finally—
"You defied me today."
Aria's stomach twisted.
She knew what he was referring to.
Her refusal to kneel.
Her defiance in the face of his claim.
She forced herself to stand taller, even as the weight of his words settled over her like a storm. "I only spoke the truth."
Kieran's lips curved, but it was not a smile. It was something sharper, something dangerous. "And what truth is that?"
Aria swallowed. "That I do not belong to you."
A silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.
And then he moved.
It was not a step, not a shift—it was something else, something too fluid, too fast, a blur of darkness that brought him to her in an instant.
One moment, he was seated on his throne.
The next, he was before her.
Close.
Too close.
Her breath hitched as his hand came up, his fingers grazing the side of her throat. A touch so light it sent a shiver down her spine.
"You do not belong to me?" he echoed, his voice a whisper of silk and steel.
Aria clenched her jaw, forcing herself to meet his gaze, to ignore the way her pulse betrayed her, hammering wildly beneath his touch. "No."
Kieran exhaled a slow breath.
And then he did something unexpected.
He laughed.
It was a low, quiet sound, but there was no true amusement in it.
"Tell me," he murmured, his fingers trailing higher, along the curve of her jaw, up to the pulse fluttering at her throat. "If you do not belong to me, then why is it that your body betrays you?"
Aria’s breath caught.
Because he was right.
Her pulse was racing.
Her skin was burning beneath his touch.
And he knew it.
She opened her mouth to speak, to argue, to deny whatever this was—
But Kieran did not give her the chance.
With a slow, deliberate movement, he leaned down, his lips grazing the shell of her ear.
"You may not accept it yet," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin, "but you will."
A shiver ran down her spine, a mixture of fear and something else—something more dangerous.
And in that moment, Aria knew one thing for certain.
She was in far more danger than she had ever realized.