Elena's POV
Warmth.
The first thing she noticed was… warmth. Soft linen beneath her, the scent of rosewater and old wood in the air. Her lashes fluttered open, and for a moment, she thought she was dead. This couldn't be real.
Velvet curtains. A canopy bed. Walls made of obsidian stone laced with gold trim. Candlelight flickered across an arched ceiling painted with stars.
She sat up slowly.
The cloak from the auction still rested around her shoulders.
Her heart stuttered.
Where am I?
Then the memories came rushing in—chains, eyes, a bid so high the room fell silent. And him. The man with red eyes behind the mask.
Had he really paid that much… for her?
A soft knock pulled her from her thoughts. A maid entered—a girl no older than her, with pale skin and braided silver hair.
"You're awake," the maid said gently. "The Master said you'd be hungry. Shall I bring food?"
Elena blinked. The Master.
She clutched the cloak tighter. "Who is he?"
The maid's expression flickered—something between awe and fear.
"Darius Draven. The King of Blackthorn."
The name tasted like iron. Cold. Dangerous.
And yet, for a moment, Elena felt her skin warm again—where his eyes had lingered… where his cloak had touched her.
What kind of man bought a girl for a million coins, branded his fury into another man's chest… and then left her here, untouched?
The maid was still watching her. "I'll fetch your meal," she said, curtsying low. "You're safe now. No one here will harm you. Not with him around."
As the door clicked shut, Elena swallowed hard.
Safe?
She didn't feel safe.
She felt… owned.
---
Darius's POV
Behind the tall glass of the observatory balcony, Darius stood in silence.
He had not moved since the girl was brought to the east wing hours ago.
His eyes, still glowing faintly red, were fixed on the silhouette of the girl curled in the bed below.
Elena.
It had been years since he last saw her face—years since fate had stolen her from his reach. He'd searched cities, torn apart syndicates, killed kings.
And yet there she was. Sold like cattle. Chained like property.
He gripped the edge of the balcony until the stone cracked beneath his fingers.
The burn mark he'd left on the auction master still flared in his memory. It had not been enough. Nothing would be.
He should have razed the entire auction house to the ground.
"She remembers nothing," came a low voice behind him. Lucien, his steward, stepped into view. "Shall I begin the awakening rituals?"
"No."
Darius's voice was clipped.
"She will remember on her own," he said, turning away from the window. "The blood in her veins won't stay quiet for long."
Lucien bowed his head. "And if she tries to escape?"
A muscle in Darius's jaw ticked. He looked once more at her window, where candlelight still flickered through the curtains.
"She won't," he murmured.
"She has nowhere else to run."
Elena woke to silence again.
Only this time, she didn't stay in bed.
Wrapped in the same cloak he'd given her, she pushed open the tall doors of her room and stepped out into a hallway that looked nothing like any home she'd ever known.
The floor was smooth obsidian stone, polished until it reflected light like a mirror. Paintings hung along the walls—portraits of kings with crimson eyes and cruel smiles. Chandeliers floated above with no chains, suspended by magic or something darker.
It felt more like a palace than a house.
She turned a corner and nearly gasped. The corridor opened into a vast marble staircase that curled like a dragon's spine down to the main floor.
Everywhere was silent, yet… not empty.
There were eyes watching.
She could feel them.
Shadows moved where they shouldn't. Whispered murmurs brushed her ears. Still, no one approached.
Until she reached the heart of the hall.
The doors before her were massive—carved blackwood with silver inlay, guarded by two tall men in matching armor. They stepped aside without a word, pushing the doors open for her.
Beyond them was a throne.
And on that throne… him.
Darius Draven.
The man who had bought her.
The man who had marked another in fury for touching her.
He sat in silence, legs crossed, a goblet of deep crimson in his hand. His mask was gone now. And though half the world might've fled from the sight of his glowing red eyes and ethereal features, Elena stood frozen not in fear—but in confusion.
He was beautiful.
Not in a soft, kind way—but in the way storms are beautiful. Dangerous. Inevitable.
"You're awake," he said, his voice cutting through the silence like the edge of a blade.
She stiffened, suddenly aware of how small she was in that great room.
"I… I wanted to see where I was," she said softly.
He tilted his head. "You wandered my halls without asking."
"I didn't know I needed permission."
A pause.
Then… a flicker of something in his eyes. Amusement?
"Most don't," he said, rising from the throne.
She took an unconscious step back as he descended the marble steps. His presence was overwhelming. Like gravity itself bowed around him.
But he didn't touch her.
Didn't even come close.
He simply circled her—studying her.
"You're not afraid," he said at last.
"I am."
"Not enough."
She looked up at him now, meeting his gaze for the first time since the auction.
"Why did you buy me?" she asked, voice trembling. "Why pay so much for someone like me?"
He stopped in front of her.
His eyes, still glowing faintly, scanned her face.
"You'll understand soon."
She hated that answer. Hated the way it made her feel like a pawn in a game she didn't know existed.
"I don't belong here."
"Yet here you are," he said smoothly. "In a warm bed. Fed. Untouched. Unharmed."
"I didn't ask for your protection."
"No," he said, voice suddenly colder, "but you needed it."
Their eyes locked. And in that moment, she saw it—something unspoken. Like he knew her. Like he'd been waiting.
She opened her mouth to ask, but he turned away.
"You may explore the east wing," he said, already climbing back to his throne. "But if you step beyond the silver doors without my permission… even I may not be able to protect you."
He sat.
Dismissed her with a wave.
"Elena."
She turned back, startled. "Yes?"
"You will dine with me tonight."
And just like that, the doors closed behind her.