SIX

Astaroth

A LARGE SET OF metal doors at the back of the room creaked open. A young woman wearing a satin lavender off-the-shoulder gown that caressed the curves of her body proudly walked in with a guard behind her. My heart slammed to a stop in my chest as I noticed the familiar blond curls atop the guard’s head with green eyes like starlight avoiding my gaze, though one was half-closed with dark purple and black marks around it.

The woman slowly descended a set of stairs leading to the center platform where I sat with Father. She put on a smile that strained her pink-stained lips, paling her paper-white skin.

“Your Majesty. Your Highness,” she greeted with a curtsy.

Father smiled warmly. “Lady Morgana, how lovely of you to meet with us.”

“The honor is all mine,” she responded, her dark Vanda orchid eyes looking at me.

Under her gaze, I felt my heart seize. She was calculated and poised to collect her winnings - the throne. I was merely collateral in her way.

Father held out his hand, taking her gloved hand and leading her over to me. My guard stepped to the side and looked at her and then me.

“Lady Morgana, this is Crown Prince Astaroth, your betrothed,” Father introduced.

“It is an honor to meet you, my fiancé,” she said.

A smile twitched at the corner of my lips. “Likewise, Lady Morgana. I’m afraid you had to meet me at an unfortunate time.”

“It is no worry, your Highness. After such an incident, I am surprised you even agreed to meet with me.” Her smile strained further as she shook my hand.

My smile tugged harder at my lips. Of course, Father would set me up like this. He always liked watching me fail miserably. But I would have the last laugh this time.

“I seem to have no choice. I wanted nothing more than to rest for the day, but the kingdom always calls for its prince,” I said, shooting a glare at Father.

He smirked.

“Don’t stress yourself, Your Highness,” Lady Morgana said. She released my hand. “Why don’t you get some rest? We can talk more at dinner tonight.”

Briefly nodding to her, I looked at Father, who gave me a curt nod to go. I let my gaze sweep over the guard. His eyes still refused to look at me.

Anton grasped the handles of the wheelchair and wheeled me toward a ramp. Behind us, I could hear Lady Morgana and Father talking to the Dukes as if I were never there. A sigh left me. Even though I was the Crown Prince, so many people wished I never existed. I was the problem they wanted gone, and the assassination attempt almost worked.

I took one last look at the guard, wanting to say something, but the words were stuck in my throat. Nobody could know who he was to me.

Anton stopped pushing the chair and opened the door before pushing the wheelchair again, and we left the room in silence.

It was a long ride to the upper floors. Thankfully, Father had installed elevators for quick convenience, but only the royal family knew its location, hidden behind a false door with a password and a lock mechanic needing royal blood.

The elevator dinged to a stop at the third floor, the doors slowly opening to reveal a grand hallway with ruby red walls and gold trim. Guards stood at the entrances to various rooms.

Anton pushed the wheelchair out of the elevator and wheeled me along to the fifth door down. The doors were grand, standing over seven feet tall. A guard stood on either side, hands on their hilts. One guard opened the door with a bow of his head. We entered in silence and waited until the door was shut for Anton to breathe out.

The room was enormous, and my bedroom. Besides Father’s room, mine was the second largest of the royal chambers. Silks and satins of the royal family colors decorated the room. A portrait of Mama was hung in the back corner, covered with a black curtain. Father merely thought it was a cracked mirror and not something I found while sneaking through the forbidden west wing of the palace.

He pushed the wheelchair to the edge of my bed and sat down on the footrest.

“What did we just witness?” he asked.

I shrugged.

The stitches on my side pulled, and I hissed. Anton stood up, dashing over to my bedside table. He returned to my side with a packet of orange pills and set one in the palm of my hand. I stared at the pill while he grabbed me a glass of water. After three days, I was healing at an unnatural rate. Dante’s magick always took time to heal, but this was different. Despite the pain and itching of the wound healing, I was recovering quite fast. Was this because of Dios being by my side all that time?

When Anton returned to my side, I took the pill with a single gulp of water and held the glass in my hands.

“I’m getting married,” I muttered.

“Didn’t you want to have a lavish wedding?”

A smile formed on my lips. “Yeah. But I thought I’d find a loophole to marry Mason. Time has run out.”

Anton rolled his eyes. “You still haven’t figured out who Mason is? He’s the son of Prince Ivaln Stone.”

My eyes locked onto Anton. A royal runi was the guard for my brother? How did I not notice, or better yet, why didn’t Mason tell me? Doubt crept up on me like a slinking shadow ready to strike. The royal family of Runi was powerful, and merging the families would surely secure a powerful position with them. Lady Morgana had zero power, and Dante was married to Lady Haera, a dragonthorn daughter of Duke Ghoul, with two wonderful little boys — my adorable nephews I would do anything for.

“Tell me more about Mason’s bloodline,” I demanded.

Anton swallowed. He turned his gaze toward the silver curtains drawn shut over the bay window.

“Mason’s not the heir to the royal family. But he is in tenth place for the throne. That gives him leeway to find himself. And he chose the path of a royal guard. In a few years, his parents were expecting him to get settled down with a nice noblewoman.”

“And he kept this from me? His boyfriend!”

“There was a chance you wouldn’t be happy with him. The runi are secretive and often make deals with otherworldly beings.”

I snorted at that. We had been dating for five years. In all that time, Mason didn’t come to trust me.

“I’m sorry you had to learn this way, Astaroth, but it’s best that you do.”

“So if I confront him and make him agree, there's a chance I could marry him over Lady Morgana? What about an heir? Father would only agree if an heir is born.”

Anton smiled. “Dante's son, Davon, is showing signs of being a dragonthorn.”

My heart skipped a beat. A chance of shining hope.

“Why hasn't he told me? I could have… Why?” I questioned.

A sudden pang of regret washed over me. Dante had been pulling away more after his meeting with Father months ago. Perhaps I was his problem; a nosy little brother who bothered him way too much and needed his help to heal when I found myself having a brush with death.

Now I was trapped with Wolf Slayer looming over me. The thought of being a murderer in front of Dios - my heart clenched. He had become another light in my darkness.

Anton placed a hand on my knee. “My prince, you think you're kept in the dark, don't you?”

I nodded.

“There are rumors among the handmaids, wet nurses, and butlers that Davon's powers are flame mixed with thunder. He speaks to himself and uses the name Khan. Your father has been watching him more, considering his options.”

Father knew. He knew all this damn time, plotting my downfall. Setting me up to kill the Luna would push Dios into killing me, resulting in the attack of Dios’ pack. Tears touched the corners of my eyes. This whole time I was a pawn in Father’s cruel game, and I had no way out.

“Think about it this way, Asta. As long as Dante has an heir, you have an out. And your injury can easily deter you from being Wolf Slayer tonight. You won’t have to kill the Luna,” Anton said.

With a shrug, I looked at my hands, which seemed much more appealing than anything in the room. Despite the effort of reassuring me, I knew Father would betray me and reveal me as Wolf Slayer deliberately. Whether I killed the Luna or not, the reveal would leave me exposed and a threat to Dios.

“I’ll talk to Dante and Mason first. There’s still two hours before dinner. Take me to my brother,” I said.