Court Of Shadows and Lies

42. The Child of Shadows

I sat on my bed, flipping through the worn pages of the Tome of Witches, the ancient script unraveling the legacies of Elara'thia's disciples. Each name, like Zerane, Isolde, and Tharion, told a story, an echo of Elara'thia's influence carried through bloodlines and ages. They were all men—except for Areael, who had taken Nyxrëae as her husband, their union forming the powerful Nyxarëal bloodline. The intricate histories held a strange allure, yet the passages seemed endless, and it felt as if I’d never see the Tome's last page.

I glanced toward the window, where darkness had settled over the grounds. Serene wasn’t in the room; his training was still ongoing, which surprised me.

Is he really that much of a slacker?

Setting the Tome back on the desk, I moved to the vanity. Taking my seat before the mirror, I started the familiar ritual of concealing my scar, smoothing layer after layer of makeup over it. It was a secret I kept well-guarded—even from Serene. Though, he may have glimpsed it that night when the attack had left me drenched in sweat, skin exposed.

If he did see it, he hasn’t mentioned a word.

Just then, I heard footsteps behind me, and instantly I knew it wasn’t Serene; he moved like a shadow, never making a sound.

I froze, unwilling to turn around.

"Hiding the scar, are we?"

The voice was unmistakable. Tiberius.

Slowly, I stood and faced him, defiantly skipping the courtesy of a bow. After all, no rule of princely etiquette said a high titled royal had the right to barge into a lady's room in the middle of the night.

I walked over to him until we were nearly toe-to-toe. He looked down at me, that usual smug, uncaring look etched across his face. His gaze lingered on my cheek, where I’d carefully applied makeup.

"Where did you get the scar?" he asked, voice cold.

I dodged the question. "What are you doing here at this hour?"

His lips curled in a smirk, and he leaned in close. "I was here last night, too. But you and your little slave were… occupied. I decided not to interrupt."

My eyes widened, and I felt the heat rush to my cheeks.

He saw us together doing sex…

I quickly turned my face away, trying to regain composure. “Where…are your manners, High Lunarch?”

He straightened, glancing up at the ceiling with a look of nonchalance. “They got buried in a coffin... 4 years ago..”

Is the Royal family like this? Always barging into a someone's room without a care?

I shook my head, scoffing. "Why should I care about you or... Your coffin?"

“Good. You shouldn’t. But that’s not why I’m here.” His tone shifted, the smirk fading. “I’m here to discuss the magic witches cast on you.”

I turned to face him, and Tiberius sank into my bed, gazing up at me with an unsettling calm.

"You know," he began, his voice low and serious, "the magic witches used on you involved two to three steps, and the third step was an... exception."

My frown deepened. "Exception?"

He nodded, the gravity of his expression intensifying. "It means that if the woman into whom the unborn is transferred is a virgin, she must undergo a sexual practice to awaken the essence of life within her."

"Se... Sexual practice?" My heart raced, and realization hit me hard, flooding my system with dread as I recalled what Serene and I had done last night.