TEETH BENEATH THE CROWN

Lucian stood near the throne, flanking Azarel as the chamber doors groaned open. Inside, the vast hall shimmered with golden light and shadows, dancing from the flickering fire-pits embedded in the stone walls. At the foot of the blackened steps leading up to the throne stood Zamiel.

He was tall, sharp-featured, with a cruel smirk that seemed permanently etched into his face. His black cloak trailed behind him like smoke, and the air around him carried the weight of arrogance.

"Brother," Zamiel said with a dramatic bow, mocking more than respecting.

Azarel remained seated, his eyes cold. "Zamiel."

"You look well," Zamiel said, circling slowly. "The Underworld suits you. Though I must say, your palace has become rather… tame."

Lucian tensed.

Azarel didn't flinch. "And you've become more theatrical, I see. Still clinging to empty insults instead of accomplishments."

Zamiel chuckled. "Ah, always so defensive. But I suppose ruling makes one sensitive."

Azarel rose from his seat slowly, descending a few steps toward his brother. "I'm not sensitive. I'm selective—with whom I tolerate."

Zamiel's smirk twitched.

Lucian folded his arms and kept silent, eyes never leaving Zamiel.

"You didn't summon me," Zamiel said. "Yet here I am. That says a lot, doesn't it?"

"It says you're still desperate for attention," Azarel replied coolly.

Zamiel laughed, but it was dry. "So, what are we discussing? Kingdom matters? War? Power shifts?"

"Territory expansions," Lucian interjected. "And border security."

"Oh, thrilling," Zamiel sighed. "Tell me—have you grown as boring as your advisor?"

Lucian didn't blink. Azarel smiled faintly.

"You'll find that boredom is a powerful tool when used properly," Azarel said. "It keeps the unpredictable ones like you in check."

Before Zamiel could bite back, the doors creaked open.

Velma walked in, carrying a tray of tea. Her footsteps were quiet, but not quiet enough.

Zamiel turned.

His eyes lit up the moment he saw her.

"Well, what do we have here?" he drawled. "Who is this beauty?"

Velma froze mid-step, eyes widening as she realized the question was directed at her.

She lowered her gaze, bowing slightly. "My lord, tea for the King and guest."

Zamiel moved toward her, his steps slow and deliberate, a hunter stalking curiosity.

"You're quite something," he said, reaching out as though to lift her chin.

She stiffened.

Lucian moved, but Azarel was faster.

"Stay in your limit, Zamiel," Azarel said sharply.

Zamiel looked at him, genuinely surprised. "She's just a maid."

Azarel's eyes darkened. "Not anymore."

Zamiel arched a brow. "Oh?"

"She saved my life," Azarel said without hesitation, his voice steady. "When that assassin attacked, she didn't cower. She acted. Protected me. With nothing but her bare hands and instincts."

Velma's heart skipped a beat.

Zamiel studied her more closely now, his expression unreadable. "Well, that changes things, doesn't it?"

"Not for you," Azarel said, stepping between them. "So keep your thoughts—and your hands—to yourself."

The silence in the chamber thickened.

Zamiel's lips curled into a smile. "Protective, aren't we?" he said, stepping back. "Very well, brother. Have it your way."

Velma dared a glance up. Her heart still pounded from the encounter, but relief flooded her chest.

Azarel had stood up for her. Again.

And in his voice—just for a moment—there had been something familiar.

Something human.

She bowed again, placed the tray gently on the table, and retreated toward the door, her mind spinning with new questions and hope she didn't yet understand.

As she exited the room, Lucian's eyes followed her briefly before returning to Zamiel, who had seated himself casually on the edge of a step.

"She's brave," Zamiel muttered. "That makes her interesting."

Azarel said nothing, but his fingers curled slightly into a fist.

Lucian noticed.

And quietly, deep in his own mind, he wondered what would happen if Azarel remembered everything—and how far Velma's presence might push him toward the edge of remembering it all.