••{RHIANNON'S POV}••
Consciousness drifts back to me like a slow tide.
My body feels strangely light. Rested, as if I've slept for days. A soft yawn slips past my lips and I stretch my arms above my head. It's only when my eyes adjust to the dimness that my mind snaps awake.
The memories start rushing back.
My attempted escape… The vampires closing in… The blood.
The last thing I remember are those amber eyes.
I look down at myself and confusion twists inside me. The wedding gown—the blood, the dirt, the torn silk—it's all gone. In its place is a pale-blue nightdress, soft as water against my skin. My hair falls down my back in gentle waves, as if someone took their time combing through every strand.
I start to panic again.
I throw off the covers and rush to the double doors. My hands grip the handles, twisting hard but they don't budge. I twist again, harder this time, desperation clawing up my throat.
The lock holds firm, mocking me.
"No, no… please," I whisper, turning the handles with both hands, as if strength alone could break it open.
It doesn't.
I slam my fists against the door, again and again until all I feel is pain.
"Open the door!" I scream, my voice echoing through the chamber. "Let me out! Let me out!"
My vision swims as tears gather in my eyes. My voice weakens. The pounding falters, then stops altogether. My legs give out and I slide down to the cold marble floor, curling into myself as my sobs shake through me.
This can't be my life.
This can't be real.
I don't know how long I sat there, but eventually the sobs fade to quiet sniffles. My body feels heavy as I push myself up and walk back to the bed. I sit there, staring at the floor, refusing to believe this is happening.
Then the door handle clicks.
My head jerks up. The doors open slowly, and someone steps inside.
"Princess," a woman's voice says softly. "You're finally awake."
I stiffen immediately. She closes the door behind her and walks toward me with measured steps, stopping at the end of the bed. The room is still mostly dark because the curtains are drawn, and the only source of light is coming from the fireplace—so I can't make out her face.
"Who are you?" I ask, trying to hide the tremor in my voice.
"My name is Nayeesha Shadhari."
My heartbeat picks up. "Are you… one of them? A vampire?"
She lets out a small laugh. She walks past the bed toward one of the tall windows and pulls the curtain aside. Sunlight streams in, flooding the room.
I blink against the sudden light and finally see her clearly. A tall woman, with rich dark-brown skin that glows in the sun. Her black hair cascades in waves down her back. When she turns to me, her amber eyes catch the light like molten gold.
That's when I realize. "You… you're the one who made me fall asleep. You're not a vampire. You're—"
"A witch."
••{NAYEESHA'S POV}••
The moment the word leaves my mouth, she reacts exactly as I expect.
Rhiannon bolts from the bed, backing away from me like a cornered deer. Her hands tremble, her breathing sharp and uneven.
"Stay back," she warns, her voice cracking. "Don't come near me."
I lift my palms slowly. "I don't intend to harm you, princess."
"You're a witch," she spits. "Why should I believe anything you say?"
Her fear is familiar, but it still stings.
I let out a quiet sigh and fold my hands behind my back. I walk to the edge of her bed and sit, careful to give her space.
"I don't blame you," I say quietly. "If I'd been raised with the lies you've been fed, I'd hate witches too."
She doesn't answer. She stays near the wall, tense and wary.
I pat the bed beside me. "Come. Sit. I won't hurt you."
Her hesitation stretches long enough that I wonder if she'll refuse entirely. But then, slowly, she steps forward. Carefully… suspiciously, she sits at the very edge, keeping distance between us.
My eyes drift to her face and I notice the exhaustion, the dried tears, and the redness around her eyes.
Softer now, I say, "You've been crying."
She wipes her cheeks quickly and looks away.
"I assume Azrael has already told you everything."
She stays silent. The kind of silence that comes from someone holding too many fears at once.
"You shouldn't be afraid," I tell her gently. "Here in Darkholme, you're in safe hands."
A breathy laugh escapes her—sharp and bitter. She finally turns to look at me.
"Safe hands?" she repeats. "I'm trapped in a castle full of vampires who won't hesitate to bleed me dry once they find out who I am. And you expect me to believe I'm safe?"
"You are," I say. "You're under the protection of the Emperor himself. No one would dare lay a finger on you."
She rises suddenly, anger burning in her blue eyes.
"A good man?! That monster stormed my wedding! He slaughtered my people! He ripped out the heart of the man I love! He dragged me away in chains while my younger siblings clung to me screaming my name! Azrael is anything but good. He is evil!"
I stand as well and step toward her—not close enough to corner her, but close enough that she can feel the sincerity in my voice. I reach out and gently take her hands.
"Do you know how lucky you are that it was Azrael who found you?" I ask quietly. "Your celestial blood has the power to strengthen every race. Humans. Lycans. Vampires. Witches. If anyone else had discovered you, you would already be dead."
She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out.
I guide her back to the bed, and we both sit.
"Azrael is far from evil," I tell her.
She looks at me, disbelief written across her features. "I find that hard to believe."
"Then let me tell you a story," I say softly.
I take a deep breath, grounding myself because some memories leave behind wounds that never truly heal.
"I'm from the desert kingdom of Saharim," I begin. "I'm sure you've heard of the witch purge sweeping across the world… but the cruelty in Saharim goes beyond anything you could imagine."
Rhiannon's brows pull together, the tension in her shoulders shifting from fear to something closer to empathy.
"In my homeland, anyone discovered to have magic has their hands severed," I continue. "If it's a man, he's beaten and tortured to an inch of his life… then thrown into the wilderness to be eaten alive by vultures. But if it's a woman…" My throat tightens. "They're taken as bed slaves. Used. Violated until they die. And the ones who survive are burned at the stake."
I see the look of horror break across her face.
"That was what awaited my family," I say quietly. "So we ran. But we were caught before we could escape. I was barely fourteen at the time."
Rhiannon brings her hand to her mouth, trembling.
"My parents were killed before my eyes. My brothers were tortured." I breathe through the pain. "My sisters and I… were used until we couldn't stand anymore."
Rhiannon's blue eyes shimmer as tears gather in them.
"I was the last one left," I say. "The day I was meant to burn… Azrael came. He killed my captors. He brought me to Darkholme. He gave me a home when I had none."
She's silent, staring at me like she doesn't know how to hold all this grief I've handed her.
I rest my hand over hers. "Azrael is a good man, Rhiannon. One day, you'll see and understand the good in what he's trying to do."
Her lips part like she wants to say something, but the doors swing open.
We both turn to see Azrael standing in the doorway.