CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Queen Nikita's POV

The Queen's Dinner

The castle was alive with movement, servants rushing to ensure everything was in place. Queen Nikita stood near the grand dining hall, listening to the distant murmurs of her council as they arrived. Tonight was significant—not just for her, but for the fate of their kind.

She had found her.

Zianni.

The Chosen One. Her mate.

The realization had shaken Nikita more than she cared to admit. Fate had a cruel sense of humor, binding her to a woman who despised vampires with every fiber of her being. Zianni wanted nothing more than to escape, to be as far from Nikita as possible.

But that wasn't an option.

She wouldn't allow it.

Nikita adjusted the rings on her fingers, her mind heavy with the weight of the upcoming conversation. The council needed to know, her family needed to understand—Zianni was the key to ending the centuries-old war between vampires and werewolves. Whether that meant uniting them or destroying one species entirely... that remained to be seen.

But Zianni couldn't know. Not yet.

She wasn't ready.

A knock at the door pulled Nikita from her thoughts.

"Enter," she commanded.

Lord Veyron stepped inside, his expression unreadable. "Everything is prepared, my Queen. The council is assembled. Your guest is being escorted down now."

Nikita exhaled slowly. "Good."

"Are you certain you wish for her to be present?" he asked carefully.

Her crimson eyes darkened. "I want her to see what she means to us. Even if she does not yet understand."

---

When Nikita stepped into the dining hall, all conversation ceased. She moved with purpose, her gown flowing like liquid shadow around her. The air was thick with unspoken questions, but no one dared voice them.

Not until she allowed it.

And then—Zianni.

She lingered at the entrance, hesitant, her golden-brown eyes filled with defiance. That fire, that unyielding resistance... it stirred something deep in Nikita's chest.

"Come, Zianni," she said smoothly. "Sit beside me."

The girl's jaw tightened. "I'd rather stand."

"You will sit."

It was not a request.

After a moment's hesitation, Zianni obeyed, stiffly taking the seat beside her. Nikita allowed herself a small, victorious smirk before turning her attention back to the council.

As the meal commenced, murmurs filled the air, but Nikita remained silent, observing. Watching the way Zianni barely touched her food. The way she glanced around the room, sensing the weight of something unspoken.

She could feel it.

The truth lingering in the air, just out of reach.

But it was not yet time.

For now, Nikita would let her sit in the unknown, unaware of the storm that was coming.

Ziaani's POV

​Dinner was unbearable.

I sat at the long, extravagant table, staring at the food on my plate. I wasn't hungry—not even a little. My fingers idly pushed a piece of roasted meat around with my fork, watching as it smeared across the fancy plate. Around me, the Queen's council murmured amongst themselves, their voices a constant hum of low conversation. The clink of goblets and silverware filled the space, but I didn't care about any of it.

Across from me, the Queen of Vampires sat at the head of the table, silent but ever-watching. I could feel her gaze on me even though I refused to look up.

"Stop playing with your food," she said, her voice cutting through the noise like a knife.

I tightened my grip on my fork but didn't stop. "Why do you care?" I muttered, barely above a whisper. "It's not like I asked to be here."

The hall went eerily quiet.

I heard the sharp sound of a goblet being set down. Then, a deep voice—cold and full of authority.

"Mind your tongue, girl," one of the council members said. "You are in the presence of the Queen. Show respect."

I let out a dry, bitter laugh and finally looked up. "Respect? You want me to respect the person who kidnapped me?" My voice dripped with venom. "I don't want to be here. I just want to go home."

The man's eyes darkened. His expression was unreadable, but the way he spoke next sent a chill through me.

"Respect, young girl," he ordered. His tone was sharp, like I was some child who needed to be put in line.

I opened my mouth to snap back, but then he leaned forward, his voice dropping just enough to make me pause.

"You don't understand—" he started, "You are the chosen—"

"Enough."

The Queen's voice cut through the room like a blade. The man immediately stopped speaking, though I could see the frustration in the way his jaw clenched.

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding. The chosen...? What the hell was he about to say?

The Queen didn't look at me. Instead, she turned to one of her servants.

"Take her to her room," she ordered, her voice calm but firm.

But before they could move, I was already standing, my chair scraping loudly against the polished floor.

I didn't say another word. I just turned on my heel and walked straight out of the dining hall.

Behind me, I barely caught the Queen's quiet command.

"Rose."

The sound of her name sent a shiver down my spine.

"Follow her. Make sure she is locked inside."

I walked faster, my mind racing.

The doors shut behind me with a heavy, final thud