CHAPTER 24: CHAPTER 23. ERASING LINGERING FEARS

Vivianne stood in the grand foyer, her hand clenched beside her body. She had only stayed in this mansion for a week, and already she’s ready to flee to the capital. But knowing Dietrich, she feared he might have already set his plans in motion.

The way he used royal decree on Roxanne, her wife and her true mate in this life, forced her to accept the invitation for the royal wedding. Which has led to this preparation.

In her past life, his obsession with her had bordered on madness. The true mate mark he carved into her skin, meant to be eternal and unbreakable, had not been enough.

Even bound to him, other Alphas still hungered for her whenever her heat came. And Dietrich, incapable of accepting that, had spiraled deeper into possession and fury until his madness drove him to hand her over, letting other Alphas claim what should have been his alone.

She had been their toy, the eternal beauty every Alpha desired. And the king, her mate, had stood powerless, unable to stop their frenzy. For Vivianne, it had been nothing short of a living hell.

A pair of cold hands cupped her face, sliding over her eyes. "You’re thinking unnecessary things again," a soft, husky voice murmured behind her.

"I’m sorry," Vivianne whispered, guilt lacing her tone.

Roxanne spun her around, forcing Vivianne to meet her gaze completely. "Didn’t I tell you? Your mate—me—isn’t someone who can be defeated by mere humans," she said, her voice carrying quiet defiance.

The bond between them is no ordinary mark. It’s soul-deep, the completion of a true mate mark, something far beyond flesh and bite. It fused them on every level: emotional, psychological, and even spiritual. Through it, Roxanne could feel Vivianne’s heart as if it were her own, her fear, her sorrow, and her flickers of joy.

And now, she felt the turmoil roiling inside Vivianne, the dread that still lingered. "I’m afraid the king will try something," Vivianne said softly.

"Not even his shadow knights can touch me." Roxanne’s voice is sharp and unyielding; there’s no fear in her tone.

Vivianne knows about the Emperor’s Shadow Knights, phantoms meant to keep disobedience in check. She saw them with her own eyes in her past life, where she learned the truth: shadows could bleed, and silence could kill.

They came without warning, faceless under their black lacquered armor, their movements soundless as smoke. No clatter of metal, no human breath, only the weight of inevitability as they stepped into her chamber. Their presence had been like a nightmare dragged into daylight.

Dietrich had sent them. She still remembered the way their cold hands had closed around her arms, unyielding, unaffected by her trembling or the desperate pheromones that poured off her when she was trying to run away from the palace. They did not flinch, did not falter, and did not see her as a person. To them, she had been only a task, an order to be obeyed.

She had been the emperor’s jewel, the omega every alpha desired, and the Shadow Knights were the ones who carried her from one cage to another. They stripped her of freedom as easily as they stripped others of life. Each time they appeared, it was the same: no screams, no chance to run, just silence, then darkness.

To the empire, the Shadow Knights were myth. To Vivianne, they were hell given form. Roxanne could feel the instant fear ripple through her mate the moment their name was spoken, and she pulled Vivianne tightly into her arms.

"My father is the Fire Demon," Roxanne murmured, her breath warm against Vivianne’s ear. "He was king once. He fell in love with my mother, a human Omega. They could not be together, not in the open, both born royal, both chained by duty." Her grip tightened. "That’s why my body burns hotter than anyone else’s or any alpha’s."

Vivianne’s eyes widened. "Your father... was the Demon King? Ashkareth is your father?"

"Oh, you know his name?" Roxanne’s lips curled in faint amusement.

"The spirits whisper it still," Vivianne breathed. "Ashkareth—the wisest Demon King. The strongest."

Roxanne gave a soft smile, her gaze never leaving her new wife’s face. "And my mother was his weakness. That’s why he’s no longer on the throne. To protect her, to ensure no crown or blade would ever hunt his human bride, he gave the throne to his brother."

"And where are they now?" Vivianne asked.

"They live at the foot of the mountain," Roxanne said calmly. "My father still feeds on fear; he’s a demon. The fear of the monster in the dark—it’s the finest meal for him."

Vivianne parted her lips to ask what Roxanne’s story about her family had to do with her terror of the Emperor’s Shadow Knights, but then the truth struck her. Her chest tightened.

Her wife, Roxanne de Borgia, is a child of fire and fang, a mixed blood, demon, and werewolf. And every mixed blood was said to be stronger than the line that birthed them.

Her eyes shot back to Roxanne, who smiled knowingly at her. "Now you realize it," Roxanne said softly.

"You’re stronger than the strongest demon," Vivianne whispered, trembling with awe and fear. "And you carry royal blood. A blood the Shadow Knights cannot deny."

"Yes." Roxanne’s smile lingered, slow and certain, a fire that could burn thrones to ash.

"I was afraid for nothing," Vivianne murmured.

"And you... you forget about yourself." Roxanne’s tone softened, but her eyes burned with knowing.

"What about me?" Vivianne asked, her brows furrowing in confusion.

"Vivianne, you’re capable of speaking with spirits. You can bind with the Spirit Kings, can’t you?" Roxanne’s words fell like embers, quiet but unshakable.

Vivianne’s breath caught. "How do you know that?" she asked, staring at her mate as though seeing her in a new light.

Roxanne’s smile deepened, sharp and tender all at once. "Vivi, you’re my mate. We’re soul-bound. From the moment I marked you, I could see them—your spirits. I can’t hear their voices the way you do, but I see them, clear as firelight in the dark. And sometimes..." She tilted her head, gaze narrowing as though recalling the visions. "...the ones who come to you are not ordinary spirits. They are the Spirit Kings themselves. Am I right?"

Vivianne’s lips parted, surprise, shock, and awe tangled in her chest. In her past life, even after Dietrich had claimed her, he had never seen what she saw—never glimpsed the spirits nor understood the depth of her communion. He had bound her body but never her soul.

"You can see this?" she whispered, lifting her hand. A glimmer of blue light shimmered into being, swirling around her fingers like liquid starlight. The air rippled, and the faint outline of a presence, vast, regal, and watching, hung in the glow.

Roxanne’s eyes followed it, unblinking, reverent. "Yes," she breathed. "I see them."

The spirit drifted like liquid moonlight, her form neither flesh nor mist but something between, a body sculpted of flowing water and spectral glow. Her skin shimmered in hues of sea-green, translucent as if the ocean itself coursed through her veins.

From her waist downward, her body dissolved into rolling currents of vaporous tide, a river of shifting waves that carried the faint, ghostly shapes of skulls, souls swallowed by the deep, bound to her eternal reign.

Her eyes glowed white, pupil-less, like twin pearls lit from within, gazing not at the world, but through it, as though every secret was already known to her. Her hair flowed upward in rippling strands, wild as storm-tossed waves yet untouched by gravity, forever caught in an unseen tide.

"That’s Undine, the Water Spirit King," Roxanne said. Her words carried more doubt than certainty, as though she were testing the truth aloud. "Right?"

Vivianne’s lips curved, brighter than ever before. Roxanne’s heart stumbled at the sight. She had seen Vivianne smile before, yes—but this smile was unlike any other. It was unguarded, radiant, and free.

"So you’re not calling me crazy... because you can see me talking to them?" Vivianne’s voice trembled with excitement, almost childlike in its wonder.

"Who dares call you crazy?" Roxanne’s tone sharpened instantly, rage igniting behind her calm. "Those bastards at Rothschild? Should I destroy them?"

Vivianne laughed softly, shaking her head. "No need. They’ll destroy themselves." And with that, she threw herself into Roxanne’s arms, her joy overflowing.

For the first time in both her lives, Vivianne felt truly seen. In the past, she had been dismissed as strange, branded as dangerous, or used as a tool for her power. No one had ever acknowledged her bond with the spirits—no one until Roxanne. And in Roxanne’s embrace, that recognition felt like salvation.

"You’re strong, sweetheart," Roxanne whispered fiercely against her hair. "You don’t need to fear the Emperor’s Shadow Knights. Not while I breathe. And those spirits will protect you. Right?" Her lips curved into a dangerous smile as her eyes lifted, daring Undine to deny her.

Vivianne’s heart swelled. In that moment, she forgot everything—her fears, her scars from her past life, and even the weight of her power. For so long she had believed her gifts were a curse, and her pheromones nothing but chains that drew Alphas to madness.

Her scent, unique, intoxicating, and irresistible, had always doomed her. In her past life, it made her a prize to be fought over, a possession passed between greedy hands. She had drowned beneath her own nature, stripped of dignity, treated as a tool.

But this life is different. In this life, she had Roxanne. Her Alpha. Her mate. Roxanne’s mark anchored her, steadied the wild tide of her pheromones, and turned what was once a curse into power.

With Roxanne at her side, Vivianne could call to the spirits freely, unbound and unafraid. Her connection to them thrummed deeper than ever before; the root of her torment is gone. Roxanne de Borgia is the reason for it; she’s far too strong, and she’s the only one who can tame her unique pheromone; no alpha can in her past life.

Vivianne’s arms tightened around Roxanne, her lips brushing against her mate’s neck as she whispered, "You fixed me."

Beyond them, Undine’s shimmering form lingered, her presence rippling like water, the Spirit King watching over their bond with silent approval.

"And you, my wife, you worry too much," Roxanne murmured, before claiming Vivianne’s lips with her own.