CHAPTER 194: A NEW CHAIR

Aria waited until Zyren was completely gone before she finally moved to take her bath, relieved to feel his presence lift from the room like a heavy shadow peeling away. His absence was a strange kind of freedom—thin and fleeting, but enough for her to breathe a little deeper.

The warmth of the water was soothing as she slid into the tub, letting it embrace her in its gentle heat. She leaned back, unmoving, feeling the tension slowly drain from her body. Yet even in this moment of peace, there was a disquiet under her skin.

She had changed.

It was there—in the way the tub creaked when her palm pressed a little too firmly against the rim. Strength thrummed faintly through her limbs, sharper than before, and though it wasn’t overwhelming, it was undeniable.

But thinking about why she had this strength pulled her mind back to the night before.

Her lips pressed into a frown. She tipped her head back, eyes fixed on the ceiling, and tried to think of anything else. Anything but the memory of Zyren’s skin, the feel of his closeness, the mark he’d left—not just on her body, but deep inside her.

’I can’t feel any new power, though,’ she thought, worry prickling the edges of her relief. A bit of physical strength was nothing compared to the unfathomable power Zyren wielded so effortlessly.

She lifted her hands slowly, water streaming in thin rivulets down her arms. Closing her eyes, she tried to reach inward—to call something, anything out of her body. Her brow furrowed, her breathing deepened, but there was nothing.

Nothing answered.

Frustration coiled in her stomach. The attempt was useless, and she gave up with a small exhale, leaning forward in the tub. Her stomach growled then—loud, insistent—and the sound made her lips twitch in a wry, humorless smile. Hunger was something she could fix.

She stepped out of the bath, wrapping herself quickly, and moved back to her room to dress. Her hand reached automatically for her usual clothing... until her gaze fell on the mark at her wrist.

Her eyes narrowed, and the corner of her mouth curved into something sly.

’If I can’t use my powers yet... then I might as well start using my newfound authority,’ she thought, the idea wrapping around her mind like silk.

She set aside the plain dress and instead reached for the one she had ordered days ago—a long, flowing black gown meant for a very specific purpose. The fabric shimmered subtly when the light touched it, falling all the way to her ankles. It was elegant. Powerful. Nothing a vampire’s pet—or slave—should ever dare to wear.

When she was dressed, she sat at the table before the mirror, staring at her reflection. The dress fit her like a quiet declaration of rebellion.

The knock at the door came exactly when she expected it. She didn’t even look away from the mirror.

"Enter," she commanded, her voice steady.

Rymora stepped in, closing the door behind her. The moment her gaze fell on Aria’s attire, her eyes widened in visible shock.

"I need my hair made and styled," Aria said, as though nothing about this scene was unusual.

Rymora hesitated only a fraction before obeying. She had been absent more than usual lately—not by choice, but because she had been ordered to stay away. Lord Drehk’s constant interference hadn’t helped either.

She moved forward, fingers deft as she began to work through Aria’s hair. For a while, the room was quiet, save for the faint rustle of fabric and the gentle pull of combs.

Then Aria spoke, calm but deliberate. "I formed a ritual bond with Zyren."

Rymora froze mid-motion. Her eyes widened further, disbelief stark in her expression.

"Everyone will find out soon enough," Aria continued, her gaze meeting Rymora’s in the mirror. "You might as well know now."

There were a hundred questions in Rymora’s eyes—questions she swallowed down. She said nothing, simply resumed her work in silence.

Inwardly, her thoughts churned. What about your revenge? How can you kill someone you’re bound to? Yet the determination she still saw in Aria’s eyes stopped her from speaking the words aloud. That resolve was dangerous, but so was prying too deeply.

And Rymora had her own dangers to manage.

She worked more quickly than usual, weaving strands into careful braids that framed Aria’s face, letting the rest fall over her shoulders. When she finally stepped back, both women studied the result in the mirror.

It was perfect.

Aria rose without hesitation, moving toward the door. Her hand was already on the handle when she stopped and turned back.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her tone shifting, her gaze sharper. She had noticed the faint swell to Rymora’s lips, the scattered marks along her neck she had glimpsed when Rymora bent earlier.

"If someone is bothering you—"

But Rymora cut her off with a small shake of her head and a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. You already have problems of your own, she thought. When Lord Drehk tired of her, he would simply discard her. That was the way of things.

"Are you sure?" Aria pressed, unwilling to let it go so easily.

Rymora’s nod was firm, and eventually Aria accepted it, though her gaze lingered for a moment longer.

Without another word, she stepped into the hall and made her way toward the food hall.

This time, there was no trace of anxiety in her movements. No shrinking posture. She knew she was late and didn’t care. Her stride was steady, her chin lifted.

When the guards saw her, they moved at once to open the great doors.

The wave of attention that hit her as she entered was immediate. Dozens of eyes turned her way—lords, nobles, guards—studying the change in her dress, her bearing, her presence.

She ignored them all.

Her gaze locked on Zyren. And then she noticed it.

Beside him, at the head of the table, was another chair.

One she had never seen before.

It wasn’t just a chair—it was crafted to mirror his own.

She slowed for half a heartbeat, eyes flicking to his face. He was watching her with amusement, his lips curved faintly as he gestured her forward.

Not to his lap.

To the chair.

It wasn’t only Aria who noticed. The entire hall shifted with the subtle weight of realization. Lords and nobles exchanged startled glances. Guards stiffened. Everyone understood the implication of what Zyren had just done.

And Aria knew too.