Chapter 3:The Cursed Prince's Mate

The morning came with an unsettling stillness.

Aliana sat at the edge of her bed, her fingers curled into the fabric of her dress. Her body still felt foreign—marked by the blood-binding, her veins thrumming with an unfamiliar energy. She hadn't slept. How could she? Not when she knew what awaited her.

The knock at her door was sharp and impatient.

Aliana barely had time to sit up before the door swung open, revealing Sybilla.

The woman stood in the doorway, her arms crossed, a cruel smile tugging at her lips. "Time to leave," she said, voice dripping with mock sweetness.

Aliana's heart pounded. "Leave?"

Sybilla stepped inside, her expensive silk gown swishing against the wooden floor. "Oh, don't act so surprised," she chided. "Did you think you'd remain here after binding yourself to that wretched creature? No, my dear. The palace awaits. The prince has claimed his mate, and you are no longer our burden."

Aliana's fingers clenched around the thin blanket covering her legs. Of course. They were eager to be rid of her, eager to wash their hands of the shame she had brought upon them.

Sybilla's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "I would tell you to say your goodbyes, but I doubt anyone here cares enough to bid you farewell."

Aliana swallowed down the lump in her throat. She would not let this woman see her break.

Without another word, she rose from the bed and stepped past her stepmother.

She would leave, but not in disgrace. Not in defeat.

And as she walked out of the house that had never felt like home, she vowed to herself—she would never be powerless again.

The Palace of Varneth

The journey to the palace was silent. Aliana had expected whispers, perhaps some warning from the guards about what awaited her, but they barely acknowledged her existence. It was as if she had already been reduced to a thing—a possession being transported from one owner to another.

The palace of Varneth loomed in the distance, its black stone walls stretching toward the stormy sky. Unlike the human nobility's homes, which were built for beauty, this place had been forged for power. It was imposing, impenetrable. A place of rulers, not dreamers.

As the carriage rolled through the iron gates, Aliana felt the weight of hundreds of eyes upon her. Vampires in their dark finery lined the walkways, their expressions unreadable. She didn't belong here, and they knew it.

The doors of the great hall swung open, revealing a long stretch of polished obsidian floors, towering columns, and a throne carved from midnight stone. At the foot of the dais stood a man—tall, powerful, draped in the regalia of his station. The King of Varneth.

And beside him stood his two sons.

Kaelith was unmistakable. His presence was a force all its own, his silver eyes gleaming under the flickering candlelight. His dark hair, slightly tousled, framed a face that was both sharp and hauntingly beautiful. But there was something about him, something deeper than his beauty—something dangerous.

Then there was the other prince, standing just a step forward. The favored son.

Caius Veyne was everything Kaelith was not—refined, golden-haired, draped in elegance. He held himself like a man who knew he would inherit the throne, who had been raised for it.

As Aliana was led toward the royal family, the room remained eerily silent. The moment was heavy, charged with unspoken expectations.

Then the king spoke.

"So," his voice was deep, rich with centuries of command. "This is the girl."

Aliana's stomach tightened, but she forced herself to meet his gaze.

Kaelith, however, remained silent. He had not looked at her once.

For some reason, that unsettled her more than anything.

---

Kaelith's Perspective

Kaelith had not wanted this.

He had spent years mastering the art of indifference, of keeping himself detached from the games of the court. And now, thanks to a single moment, he was bound to a human girl he did not know.

He could still feel the blood-binding thrumming through his veins. A connection that should have never been forged.

As Aliana stood before them, he finally allowed himself to look at her. She was small compared to the grandeur of the hall, her presence seemingly insignificant. And yet—she stood tall. There was no cowering, no tears.

She should have been afraid.

"Kaelith," the king's voice pulled him from his thoughts. "You have chosen your mate. Take responsibility for your decision."

A choice? The king knew damn well he hadn't chosen this. Fate had.

Kaelith's jaw tightened, but he stepped forward nonetheless.

The nobles watched in silence as he approached Aliana, his movements slow, deliberate.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, "Come with me."

---

Aliana's New Reality

The moment they stepped out of the great hall, the tension in Aliana's chest finally loosened—but only slightly.

Kaelith walked ahead of her, his posture stiff. He had not spoken another word, and she did not dare fill the silence.

The corridors of the palace were dark, illuminated only by sconces casting golden light against the walls. The air smelled of ancient stone and something deeper, something unnerving.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Kaelith stopped before a grand set of doors. He pushed them open, revealing a vast chamber lined with towering bookshelves, a balcony overlooking the palace grounds, and an ornate bed draped in black silk.

"This is where you will stay," Kaelith said.

Aliana hesitated in the doorway. "This is… your chamber."

Kaelith turned to her, his silver eyes unreadable. "You are my mate. This is where you belong."

Her heart pounded at the finality of his words.

There was no escape from this.

No going back.

And as the doors closed behind her, Aliana realized one thing with absolute certainty.

She had just stepped into the lion's den.