The Emperor's obsession

Chapter 21: The Emperor Hunts



The moon hung low like a silent witness, its pale glow washing over the grand palace grounds and turning every stone and shadow into whispers of silver. Serenya gingerly stepped down from the halted carriage, her head bowed low, heart thundering like galloping hooves inside her chest.

Did the Emperor find out? she wondered, her fingers curling tightly around the edge of her veil. The hem of her gown brushed the ground like a ghost, silent and trembling, her steps cautious and light. Her throat felt parched, her breath coming shallow and swift beneath the delicate fabric that covered the lower half of her face.

A sharp gust of wind blew through the arching gates, tugging at cloaks and rattling torches in their sconces.

From the shadows, a mounted figure approached, the thunder of hooves muffled only by the solemn dread settling over the crowd of Vayrana servants. The head imperial guard sat atop his warhorse, black armor gleaming beneath torchlight, a symbol of the Emperor's ever-watchful eye.

He didn't speak at first. His eyes scanned the group like a hawk circling prey. When he finally spoke, his voice was hard as steel and just as cold.

"Return to your chambers."

The order was crisp, absolute.

The servants didn't dare question it. Heads bowed, they began to move in obedient silence. Serenya hesitated. She looked left, then right, trying to remain invisible beneath the veil. If I walk quietly enough… if I stay at the back…

But with every step toward the quarters, a knot tightened in her stomach.

Her escape was slipping away.

And then—

A distant gallop echoed through the stone corridors that led to the back courtyard.

Serenya turned.

A majestic white stallion burst from the narrow corridor, its hooves kicking up dust as it slowed near the path. Its rider dismounted with practiced grace—tall, composed, and cloaked in Thamurian navy and silver.

Crown Prince Kael.

He looked straight at her.

"Princess Serenya," he said quietly, moving past the bowing servants. "I was informed of the Emperor's order to seal the main gate."

His tone shifted, low and urgent. "But there's another exit. A second gate—northwest of the training fields. Far, but unguarded at this hour."

He extended his hand, eyes never leaving hers.

"Come. We don't have time."

Serenya's heart stuttered.

Zelda gave her an encouraging nod, whispering, "Go, Your Highness. Now."

Hesitating only for a moment, Serenya placed her trembling hand into Kael's. His fingers wrapped around hers gently but firmly, and she felt her cheeks flush. It was the second time he had held her hand so openly. His warmth grounded her. It was steadying.

With Kael's help, she mounted behind him on the horse. The movement pulled her close, and she fumbled slightly, unsure of where to hold.

Kael chuckled, glancing over his shoulder. "You can hold me, Serenya. In fact… you should."

The smile in his voice made her face burn hotter.

She tentatively wrapped her arms around his waist, her fingers brushing the embroidered sash at his middle.

And then they were off.

The horse surged forward, wind rushing past them in a roaring blur. The palace grounds stretched endlessly before them, a blur of torch-lit pathways and silent gardens. Trees bowed in the wind as Kael raced toward the far gate—their one chance.

Serenya dared not look back.

---

Back at the grand ceremonial dais, Elarynth's body twisted and turned with practiced seduction. Her silken garments fluttered with each movement, her golden hair gleaming beneath the lantern light, catching attention like a flame in the dark.

But not his.

Not his gaze.

Zareth lounged on the imperial throne like a bored lion, one elbow resting against the carved obsidian armrest, his gloved fingers idly tapping against his jawline. The delicate perfume of burning incense hung heavy in the air, but none of it masked the stench of desperation he was witnessing.

He stared at Elarynth through lidded eyes, his gaze colder than a winter moon.

Still, she danced.

Bent low enough that her fresh wounds scratched against the inner seam of her gown, the sting slicing through her act like a hot blade. She hissed in pain—quietly—but did not stop.

Zareth didn't blink.

Didn't flinch.

Didn't care.

A raven cawed from the roof of the palace behind him.

Zareth's lips curled into a crooked smile—one that held no warmth. "Oh my sweet little dove " he muttered under his breath, voice soaked in amusement.

He lifted his hand lazily and gestured to Cassian, who stood at attention just behind the throne.

"Get me my bow."

Cassian blinked, confused. "Your Majesty?"

Zareth didn't repeat himself.

Instead, he rose slowly from his seat. The entire audience, startled, stood up as well, following imperial protocol.

But he ignored them.

He ignored everything.

With the sharp whistle that followed, the entire gathering froze.

From the distant royal stables, a beast answered.

A thunderous neigh shattered the silence. The Emperor's black warhorse—Draven—tore free from its hitch, the stable boy screaming in protest as the monstrous stallion charged through the ceremonial square like death itself.

Gasps erupted from the nobles as the horse bolted straight toward the throne.

But Zareth stood calm. Unbothered. Absolute.

The beast halted only inches from him, breathing heavily, its coat shining with sweat and fury. Zareth stroked its neck slowly, like one might calm a dragon with a whisper.

Cassian arrived, panting, with the Emperor's obsidian bow slung across his back.

Zareth mounted Draven in one elegant swing.

"What is happening?" one of the nobles whispered in fear.

But the Emperor didn't spare them a glance.

He pulled his bow from Cassian and nudged Draven with his heels.

And then he was gone.

---

Kael and Serenya neared the far gate.

It loomed in the distance, smaller than the front one but promising—freedom. Kael urged the horse faster, the wind howling in their ears, her fingers tightening around him. Her heart pounded in her ears like a war drum.

"We're almost there," Kael said, his voice barely carrying over the wind.

But Serenya's gaze shifted.

A shadow.

No—a blur.

Behind them. Fast. Closing the distance like lightning.

She turned fully—and froze.

A rider.

Draped in black. A dark cloak trailing behind him like wings.

Zareth.

She didn't need to see his face to know.

She had never seen a man who rode like a demon let loose from hell.

Kael felt the shift in her posture and looked back.

His jaw clenched.

"Hold on!"

The gate was only seconds away now. Just a little further. Just a few more heartbeats—

A whistle.

Sharp. Piercing.

An arrow embedded itself into the dirt just inches from Kael's horse, the ground exploding into dust and grass.

The stallion reared, panicking.

Serenya screamed as she held on tightly, but the beast bucked, and she lost her grip.

She fell.

The cold earth knocked the wind from her lungs. Dust rose around her in thick plumes, choking her vision. She coughed, rolling over, her limbs burning, her veil loosened from her face.

Kael jumped down immediately, kneeling beside her. "Are you hurt?"

She tried to shake her head—but before she could respond—

The wind shifted.

And Death arrived.

Draven halted only a few feet away.

And Zareth… descended.

His boots hit the ground with the weight of thunder. His presence turned the very air electric. He didn't walk—he stalked—toward them, each step a warning, each breath louder than the last.

Kael stood protectively before Serenya.

"Serenya," the Emperor's voice cut through the open field like a silk-wrapped blade—soft in volume, but sharp enough to draw blood.

She froze.

Her breath caught in her throat, her spine locking straight under the weight of that one word. The way he said her name was sinful—drawn out with mocking gentleness, threaded with subtle danger. But it wasn't the sound of it that terrified her.

It was his eyes.

Those glowing red irises glared down at her like flames licking the edge of a dry parchment. They swirled with unspoken rage and something far darker—possessiveness, raw and undisguised. Her fingers curled tightly around the folds of her cloak.

"Come," he said again, slower this time, each syllable deliberate. "Stand behind me… now."

His tone had shifted, the softness bleeding out of it entirely. It wasn't a request. It was a command laced with the kind of quiet threat that made bones shiver.

Serenya's throat moved as she swallowed. Her body didn't want to move, but instinct told her it was safer to obey a lion baring its fangs than to test how sharp they were. Her steps were small at first, tentative, but she began to walk toward him.

Until—

A hand caught hers.

Firm. Gentle.

Kael.

"Don't go," he said, standing tall beside her like a shield. His voice trembled with quiet conviction. "He can't do anything to us. The Council will be here in no time."

She looked up into Kael's eyes. They were warm, protective, reassuring… but they didn't carry the certainty of survival. Not in the face of the man watching them like a storm ready to break.

Zareth's smile widened as he watched them—predatory, crooked, condescending. He didn't speak right away. He just stared, and it was enough to make the air feel heavier, charged with the anticipation of something violent and inevitable.

His hand petted the beast , and the horse beside him responded with a stomp and a snort, as if it too shared in its master's mood.

"Serenya," Zareth said again, low and lethal this time, his tone dipped in sarcasm. "Do you really believe that little boy beside you can stop me? Does his soft voice comfort you that much?"

Kael flinched, but didn't release her hand.

"She doesn't belong to you," he said, jaw clenched, voice firmer now.

That did it.

Zareth laughed.

It was dark, rumbling, and filled with disbelief. He leaned forward , red eyes glinting with something that looked too much like delight.

"She doesn't belong to me?" he echoed, as if the words were a foreign language. "Prince Kael, I could have you impaled by sunrise and still sleep peacefully by dusk. Don't test the depth of your irrelevance."

Kael stepped in front of Serenya now, shielding her fully with his body. "You'll answer to the Council," he said. "And when they arrive—"

"When they arrive," Zareth cut in, his voice now silk-wrapped poison, "I'll offer them tea, play the gracious host, and then still do exactly as I please. Because unlike you, Kael, I do not follow laws . I make them."

The tension wrapped around Serenya like chains. She didn't know where to look—at the prince trying to protect her or the Emperor who looked moments away from turning Kael into dust. But deep inside, in the quietest part of her trembling heart, she knew what she had to do.

Zareth hadn't taken his eyes off her once.

There was hunger in that gaze, yes—but not the kind that desired beauty. It was hunger for control, for dominance, for ownership. And though it terrified her, some inexplicable part of her knew resisting him now would mean far worse consequences.

Her hand slipped from Kael's grasp.

Kael's eyes widened. "Serenya—"

"I'm sorry," she whispered, not to Zareth, but to the prince who had tried.

Then she walked—slow, deliberate steps—toward the Emperor .

The wind whispered through the trees, rustling the tall grass. Her heart pounded like a drum inside her chest, but her face remained composed. If she was going to be his prisoner, she'd be a graceful one.

Zareth's crooked smirk returned the moment she reached him.

"Good girl," he drawled, the words like warm venom against her skin. "I knew you were my innocent little dove."

He extended his hand, and she took it, allowing him to pull her towards him .

Kael still stood in stunned silence, watching the girl he wanted stand behind the broad back of the man who ruled everything.

"You won't get away with this," Kael ground out, voice sharp with frustration. "Serenya, don't be afraid. I'll come for you tomorrow, I promise!"

Zareth laughed again. Not just amused—mocking.

"I would love to see you try," he replied, twisting some strands of Serenya's hair just enough to meet Kael's eyes. "Please. Do."


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