ALL - Book 1

𝟐𝟐 - Sweet Sound of Agony

♑︎ Corvina ♑︎
Studying Lucian pacing back and forth, his hastening heartbeat resonates in my ears, gradually building a throbbing ache within my temples. Nevertheless, suppresses the urge to express my discomfort, choosing instead to maintain a composed demeanor and awaited with anticipation to his forthcoming explanation for summoning me to his personal chambers. With a heavy sigh, Lucian finally relinquishes his restless movement and settles on the edge of his bed. His gaze remaining downward to the floor, his eyes seemingly burdened with unspoken thoughts. The weight of his silence hung in the air, amplifying my curiosity. "I asked you here because of something regarding my father."

Observing closely, my senses heightening, attuned to his every movement and emotion. The apprehension radiating from him was undeniable, almost tangible. His fingers, entangling in his blond hair, betrayed his worry and unease. With each twist and turn, his fear seems to intertwine with the tension around us, creating an intoxicating aroma that stirs a primal instinct within me. The monster within, restrained by years of self-control and discipline, roaring softly, yearning to break free and succumb to its cravings. But unlike the werewolves who let their primal urges guide them, I fought to maintain my composure. Refusing to be consumed by the same darkness that has haunted me for centuries. Suppressing the urges, prompting myself to take a deep breaths, but still manages to inhale the scent of fear that lingers in this room. It was a heady combination, both alluring and dangerous. With every ounce of willpower, I will the monster within to slumber, to remain dormant. For now that is.

Clearing my throat. "Is the king alright?" Masking my true intentions, artfully crafting an illusion of deep concern for the king's welfare. Lucian releases an exasperated sigh, his voice tinging with frustration as he expresses what's truly vexing him. Their hint of trepidation and fury in his voice as he reveals a startling revelation. "My father has just informed me of his decision to grant freedom to every werewolf in this kingdom." He declares, his tone rising with a combination of worry and anger. His piercing gaze focusing upon me, conveying both his concern and frustration.

Absorbing the astonishing and preposterous information about setting the werewolves free, a surge of genuine fury boiling inside me. Forcefully suppressing my emotions, taking a deep breath to compose myself before finally responding with a question on the matter at hand. "Is my superior aware of this utterly appalling decision?" My hand clenching firmly around my baton, while the sharp tip of one of my fangs threatens to pierce my lower lip.

He shrugs, displaying a gesture of uncertainty. "I had strongly advised against such a course of action, but it seems he was disinterested in considering my perspective on it."

"I mean absolutely no disrespect, prince Lucian." Observing him as he gracefully moves away from the bed and towards a secluded corner where he as his own private sidebar. "But I can't help but wonder why you've chosen to confide in me rather than informing my Chief." Studying him closely as he pours himself a glass of rum, while also clarify his intentions. "I believe you will eventually inform her, and besides, I am also curious about the remaining duration of my werewolf's training." Holding his drink, his blue eyes staring back at me, expectantly awaiting a response. "Considering that my visit to my chambers at this late hour has inconvenienced you, would you like a drink as a gesture of an apology?" He proceeds to pour an extra glass with grace, but I sense an underlying motive behind his excessive politeness.

"I regretfully must refuse your offer, and as for your werewolf, her decision will determine the outcome. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some puppy training to attend to." Exiting the confines of Lucian's bedchamber.

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Steadily striding down a long damp corridor of the dungeon hidden beneath the elegant place, clearly unaffected by the desperate cries and grasping hands of the imprisoned individuals. The musty air hung heavy with despair as I move forward with purpose, my footsteps echoing through the dimly lit corridor by torches that stuck out from the walls.