Chapter 6

Secrets in the Shadows

The grand music hall of the Golden Palace was nothing short of majestic. High vaulted ceilings arched like the ribs of a great beast, adorned with gilded carvings of dragons and phoenixes in eternal battle. Crystal chandeliers hung like clusters of stars, their light reflecting off the polished marble floor, creating a shimmering glow that danced around the room. The air was faintly perfumed with the scent of sandalwood and lilies, giving the space an ethereal elegance.

At the far end of the hall stood the Dragon Tears, a grand piano of unparalleled beauty and legend. Its sleek, ebony surface seemed to drink in the light, while its keys, crafted from enchanted ivory and obsidian, glimmered faintly with their own inner luminescence. It was said that when played correctly, the piano could reveal truths hidden within a person's soul—secrets they dared not speak aloud.

Prince Derek sat before it, his back straight, his hands hovering over the keys as though he were a sculptor about to shape the very air into art. He wore a simple, tailored black coat embroidered with gold along the cuffs and collar, his golden hair pulled neatly back. The soft candlelight caught the sharp planes of his face—his high cheekbones, the firm set of his jaw, and the icy blue eyes that seemed to see too much.

The melody he played was haunting, a slow, mournful tune that seemed to whisper of forgotten dreams and buried pain. His fingers moved with precision, each note resonating with a depth that made the room feel heavier, as though the music itself carried the weight of his thoughts.

Across the room, Prince Cason, the second eldest of the three brothers, reclined lazily on a velvet chaise, a cup of steaming tea cradled in his hands. His auburn hair was tousled in a way that made him look effortlessly charming, his green eyes gleaming with amusement as he watched Derek play. Cason was the most easygoing of the princes, his roguish smile often disarming even the sharpest critics.

Beside him, Prince Amir, the youngest of the three, sat cross-legged in a high-backed chair. His dark brown hair fell in soft waves around his face, and his hazel eyes were thoughtful as he sipped from his tea. Amir was quieter than his brothers, his demeanor more reserved, though his mind was as sharp as a blade.

For a while, they simply listened to Derek's playing, the melody filling the vast hall like a living thing. But it wasn't long before Cason's restlessness got the better of him.

"Do you always have to play something so dreary, Derek?" he asked, his voice breaking the spell of the music. He took a sip of his tea, raising an eyebrow at his elder brother. "It's like you're trying to summon the dead."

Derek's fingers paused over the keys, and for a moment, the room fell silent. He turned his head slightly, his blue eyes glinting in the candlelight as he regarded Cason with mild annoyance.

"If you had half the patience required to play this piece, you'd understand its brilliance," Derek replied coolly, his voice low and even.

Cason grinned, unbothered by the jab. "Patience is overrated. I'd rather be enjoying the finer things in life. Speaking of which…" He leaned back, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Have you seen the princesses today? There are some real beauties among them. Truly exquisite."

Amir snorted softly, setting his teacup down on the small table beside him. "You mean you've been ogling them like a starving wolf," he said dryly. "Do you ever think of anything other than women, Cason?"

"Of course I do," Cason replied with mock indignation. "But when the women look like that, can you blame me? Some of them have bodies that could make a statue weep."

Derek sighed, his fingers brushing over the keys absently as he listened to his brothers. The melody had been forgotten, his thoughts now tangled in the conversation.

"I'm more interested in the general competition," Cason continued, swirling his tea lazily. "It'll be fun to see them fight for our attention, don't you think? By the end of it, we'll have twenty of the best to choose from. I can't wait to see who makes the cut."

Amir frowned, leaning forward slightly. "You're forgetting that most of them are pretending to be something they're not. A few tears, a carefully chosen smile, and suddenly they're the perfect candidate. It's exhausting."

Cason waved a hand dismissively. "That's the game, little brother. You just have to play it better than they do."

"What about you, Derek?" Amir asked, turning to their elder brother. "Have you found anyone who's caught your interest yet?"

Derek shook his head, his gaze distant. "No."

Cason smirked. "Really? No one? Not even the golden-haired princess from Eryndor? She was practically throwing herself at you during the banquet."

"I'm not interested in someone who throws themselves at me," Derek replied curtly. He hesitated for a moment, then added, "But there is something I've been curious about."

Amir and Cason exchanged glances, intrigued.

"What is it?" Cason asked, leaning forward slightly.

Derek's fingers drifted over the keys again, but this time the notes were slow and deliberate, as though he were testing the waters of the conversation. "What do you know about bite marks?"

Cason's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Bite marks?"

"Yes," Derek said, his tone casual but his eyes sharp. "Particularly those that… bind someone to another."

Cason set his cup down, his expression suddenly serious. "Binding marks aren't something you see every day," he said slowly. "They're not human. At least, not in origin. They're mostly used by other beings to claim someone as their mate. It's rare."

"Other beings?" Derek pressed.

"Vampires, for one," Cason replied, his green eyes narrowing in thought. "Their bite is a mark of possession, a way to claim their chosen mate. And then there's…" He trailed off, his voice growing quieter.

"The devil," Amir finished, his voice barely above a whisper.

The room seemed to grow colder at the mention of the word. Cason nodded reluctantly. "Yes. The devil's mark is the most binding of all. It's rare—so rare that most people don't even believe it exists. But if someone were to bear such a mark…" He shook his head, his expression grim.

"What would it mean?" Derek asked, his voice calm despite the turmoil in his mind.

"It would mean they belong to him," Cason said simply. "Completely and irrevocably."

Amir's hazel eyes flicked to Derek, his curiosity plain. "Why are you asking about this, Derek?"

Derek's fingers stilled on the keys, his face betraying nothing. "It's just something I heard," he said dismissively. "A rumor."

Cason studied him for a moment, then leaned back with a shrug. "Well, if you ever see someone with such a mark, I'd advise staying far, far away. It can only mean trouble."

Derek didn't reply. His mind was elsewhere, turning over the memory of the swollen bite mark he'd seen on Elowen's neck.

As the brothers continued their discussion, Derek's gaze drifted to the piano keys beneath his fingers. Slowly, deliberately, he began to play again, the haunting melody weaving through the silence. This time, it was not a song of sorrow—it was a song of secrets. And as the Dragon Tears resonated, Derek felt something stir within him, as though the piano itself was urging him to uncover the truth.

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