CHAPTER 238: BLACK HEARTED?

Aria wasn’t surprised to wake up alone. She had stopped expecting Zyren to remain after the nights he took her. If anything, she would have been shocked to find him beside her. The empty space on the bed was familiar now, cold and hollow like the air before dawn.

She moved her legs slowly and felt the unpleasant reminder of what had happened hours before—the warm slickness between her thighs that no washing could erase. Her body didn’t recoil, not anymore. That was the part that frightened her most.

Her mind raged and her stomach churned, but her skin and muscles no longer shivered at his touch. They had grown used to it. She wondered if that was the first sign of breaking.

She sat up, the heavy silk sheets sliding off her bare shoulders. The bruises Zyren’s hands had left were fading already, but she pressed her palms to her ribs anyway, letting her ability flare inward. Pale light pulsed under her skin as she healed herself from within. Tiny bursts of warmth moved over each sore spot until nothing but faint tenderness remained. It was the second time she had needed to do this after one of his visits. He had gone all out again, pushing her body to its limits.

Her eyes stared blankly at the far wall, but behind that stillness lay a determination that refused to fade. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. The marble floor was cold under her feet as she crossed the chamber and stepped into the bathroom.

The tub had already been filled, steaming gently. She lowered herself into the water, letting the warmth creep up her body until it swallowed her shoulders. She tilted her head back against the porcelain edge and shut her eyes. Two thoughts pressed against her mind with the weight of stones.

The first was the ritual. Today she had to return to the temple and submit to it. The mere thought dulled her mind, like a drug numbing everything it touched. Even the images of the children that would be used as vessels—small, terrified faces she could not save—slid away when she forced herself to focus on the goal. She could not afford to feel too much. Not now.

The second was her sword instructor. He worked for one of the Hunter Houses, men and women whose entire lives revolved around tracking and killing vampires. They had promised her something if she proved herself. She couldn’t remember the exact words, but she remembered the implication: power, freedom, or maybe protection. She had no illusions. They would use her if they could, and she would turn on them the moment they tried.

She thought of the shapeshifting creatures rumored to be near the capital. She could heal wounds, but her ability would not help her if one of those things tore her apart before she could react. She needed skill and weapons, not just power.

Aria raised her fingers to her face, meaning to brush water from her cheeks. It was only when she looked at her wet fingertips that she realized they weren’t wet from the bath. Silent tears had been sliding down her cheeks. She let them fall. She didn’t wipe them away. The warmth of the tub and the sting of her tears mixed into one dull ache. She stayed there until her skin began to prickle from the heat.

When she finally rose, the water streamed down her body in long rivulets. She reached for a towel, dried herself quickly, and began dressing. She had already sent a message to Rymora the night before, telling her not to come too early. She had wanted a few quiet moments before facing the day.

But she was only halfway through fastening her underdress and pulling her hair into a knot when she heard a soft knock at the door.

She knew the rhythm instantly. Rymora.

"Come in," Aria said without turning.

The door opened with a muted creak, and Rymora slipped inside. She closed the door and bowed her head. She didn’t speak. She rarely did unless necessary.

Aria caught her reflection in the mirror. Her own eyes were slightly swollen, her lips pale. She forced a bright smile onto her face as she continued pinning her hair.

"Is breakfast over?" she asked lightly.

Rymora nodded. "Yes, my lady. You slept longer than usual. His Highness instructed that you not be disturbed."

Aria gave a small nod in return, still watching herself in the mirror. "How thoughtful of him."

Rymora came closer, her quiet presence filling the room. She reached for the laces of Aria’s outer gown, helping her tighten them. The servant’s hands were quick and gentle. A small, tentative smile touched her face. "Are you well?" she asked. Her voice was soft, unused to forming longer sentences.

Aria kept her smile bright. "Of course."

But Rymora’s brow furrowed. She wasn’t convinced. "You look pale. The side of your lips... they’re bleeding."

Aria touched the corner of her mouth with her thumb and saw the faint smear of red. She gave a deep sigh, the sound heavier than she intended. "What do you do," she asked quietly, "when you realize that to defeat a monster, you’ll also have to become one yourself?"

Rymora blinked, stunned. "My lady?"

Aria turned to face her fully. The light from the window framed her features, making her look older than her years. "I’m serious," she said. "What would you do?"

Rymora hesitated. Her own problems were nothing like Aria’s. Something to do with a Vampire lord while being a Werewolf without a Wolf of her own.

Her own problems were much more different and something she herself was yet to figure out. "I... don’t know," she admitted. "I suppose I would run."

Aria let out a humorless laugh. "If only it were that simple."

Silence stretched between them as Rymora adjusted the last of Aria’s fastenings. Finally, Aria broke it. "We’re going to the temple today," she said.

Rymora’s head snapped up. "The temple?" Her voice rose slightly, a rare show of emotion. "But you—my lady, you hate that place."

It had been more than obvious from how Aria hurried out of it.

"I do." Aria turned back to the mirror, smoothing the front of her dress. "But I have something I need to do. Before anything else."

Aria watched her servant’s reflection. "You don’t have to come."

"I’m your handmaiden," Rymora said quietly. "I go where you go."

They finished dressing in silence. Aria pulled on her boots and fastened her cloak. Rymora fetched a comb and carefully smoothed the loose strands of Aria’s hair, braiding them into a simple style that would survive the day’s demands. The air between them felt heavier with every passing moment.

As they walked down the corridor, the palace seemed unusually quiet. The tapestries on the walls, the marble floors, the gilded doorframes—all of it looked like a stage set for someone else’s life. Aria’s boots clicked softly against the polished stone.

Rymora kept a few steps behind. "Do you want me to bring anything?" she asked.

"No." Aria’s voice was low. "Just stay close."

They descended the main staircase and entered the lower halls. Servants moved quickly out of their way, bowing low. No one spoke. News traveled fast in the palace, but no one dared to gossip within Aria’s hearing. She wondered what they whispered about her behind closed doors—the king’s pet or the messenger of God, the one with the power to heal.

When they reached the outer courtyard, the sunlight made Aria squint. The day was bright but cold, the sky washed pale blue. A carriage waited near the gates, its black lacquered sides glinting faintly.

Rymora didn’t know what Aria was going to the temple to do but what was clear was that it was something she didn’t want to do and seemed to be forcing herself to.

Rymora glanced at her. "You could still change your mind."

"I won’t," Aria said. She stepped toward the carriage. "Every time I delay, it only gets worse."

Inside the carriage, the air smelled faintly of leather and incense. Aria sat back against the seat, drawing her cloak tighter around her. Rymora sat opposite, her hands folded tightly in her lap. She opened her mouth, closed it again, then finally spoke.

"You’ve been... different since His Highness returned," she said cautiously. "More... distant."

Aria looked out the window at the passing streets. "I don’t have the luxury of being anything else."

The carriage rattled over a cobblestone bridge, the sound echoing in the enclosed space. Rymora lowered her eyes again. She had never seen Aria look so composed and so hollow at the same time.

After a moment, Aria spoke again, her voice softer. "If something happens to me today... if I don’t come back the same..."

Aria’s lips curved in a faint, bitter smile. "Then you’ll know the answer to my question. What you do when you have to deal with a monster."

The carriage slowed as it neared the temple gates. Towering stone pillars rose ahead, carved with ancient sigils. The courtyard was filled with priests and acolytes moving like shadows. Children in pale robes were being led inside, their heads bowed. Aria’s stomach turned, but her face remained still.

Rymora reached out, then stopped herself, her hand hovering in midair. "My lady..."

Aria drew in a long breath and released it. "Stay behind me"

"Yes," Rymora murmured.

The carriage rolled to a stop. Aria gathered her cloak, opened the door, and stepped down onto the cold stone. She straightened, lifting her chin. The temple bells began to toll, deep and slow, each sound like a heartbeat.

She didn’t look back.