velora_dusk

A marriage forged in blood. A kingdom built on bones. And a queen who refuses to kneel.

When Elyra Dorne is sent to marry the infamous King Draven Valerian, she knows her life is no longer her own. The world speaks of him in fearful whispers a tyrant wrapped in shadow, a man whose throne was won through war and whose heart is said to be as cold as the steel he wields.

But Elyra is no meek bride. Stripped of choice yet unbroken, she steps into his kingdom with defiance burning in her veins. In a court filled with vipers, where betrayal is currency and secrets are more dangerous than blades, she must survive a world where love is a game and power is the ultimate prize.

Yet, beneath the king’s ruthless exterior lies something else—something dark, something waiting. And as Elyra is drawn deeper into his web, she begins to wonder: Is he the monster the world fears, or something far more terrifying?

The Bride Of Shadow

Chapter Seventeen – A Dangerous Game

The weight of the war chamber's atmosphere pressed down on Elyra as she stepped further into the room. Eyes followed her every movement, some filled with curiosity, others with barely veiled disdain. She had expected as much and nothing less. This was not a place for queens, not in a kingdom like Draven's, and yet he had called upon her.

The memory of the previous night lingered in her mind. The way Draven had spoken to her, the way his gaze had held something unreadable. The distance between them was shifting, whether either of them wanted to admit it or not.

Draven stood at the head of the table, his expression unreadable as always. His dark armor gleamed under the dim candlelight, a quick reminder of the man he was not just a ruler, but a warrior. A conqueror.

"Sit," he said, motioning to a chair near him.

She hesitated only for a moment before obeying. The room was filled with his highest advisors men who had fought beside him, men who ruled parts of his kingdom in his name. They exchanged glances, but none dared to speak against her presence.

Draven's fingers drummed against the table before he finally spoke. "There has been another attack."

The murmurs that followed were brief, tense. Elyra's stomach twisted. She had heard whispers of the unrest beyond the palace walls, but no one had spoken to her of it directly.

"Where?" she asked, before she could stop herself.

One of the men scoffed. "What concern is it of yours, My Queen?"

Draven's gaze snapped to the man before returning to Elyra. He didn't silence her, didn't dismiss her question. Instead, he answered. "The eastern borders. Another noble estate was raided. Burned."

Her throat tightened. "By rebels?"

The word sent a chill through the room. No one laughed. No one dismissed it as nonsense.

Elyra swallowed. "You don't mean—"

"I mean exactly what I said," Draven cut in. "These attacks are not ordinary. The men who fight against us… they do not fight as men should. They do not die as men should."

A shiver crawled down her spine. This was worse than she had imagined.

Draven turned his full attention to her then, his gaze sharp. "You wished to be more than a pawn, Elyra? Then listen well. The court watches you, waiting for you to falter. But out there?" He gestured to the map spread before them. "There is no time for such games."

She met his gaze, steady despite the fear curling in her stomach. "Then tell me what you need of me."

A flicker of something passed through his eyes an approval, perhaps? Or something far more dangerous?

Draven leaned forward, his voice low, meant for her ears alone. "I need to know if you can keep up."

And Elyra had never been one to back down.