h4Chapter 210: Control/h4

    ’She was a good person, but she refused to be taken advantage of—neither would she allow people to take from her without giving anything in return!’ she decided.

    But she had just spoken when they all instantly backed away, bowing in submission toward her as they crossed their hands over their chests in the manner in which they greeted the priests and priestesses.

    One after the other they turned around to leave, though some lingered. Aira spoke louder this time, giving the order to the guards who stood beside her—guards she had nowe to identify as belonging to her.

    "If anyone steps close to me without my permission... cut off their legs!" she ordered, her voice sharp as steel, even as she continued standing there, relieved to see whatever hope some of them still held in their eyes instantly die.

    Her back was straight, and she clutched the sword in her hands tighter than before. But that didn’t in any way relieve the fatigue sinking into her bones as she instantly began to walk toward the gates—only to hear the soft, deliberate sound of pping behind her.

    Looking back, she realized it was Zyren who stood high on the pavilion, pping his hands with an amused, impressed look on his face. A look Aira didn’t care for in the slightest.

    Her brows furrowed when his attention shifted suddenly, sliding past her to Harriet, who stood with a nk, distant look on her face—almost as though she didn’t care whether she lived or not, even though Aira had already decided she would.

    But the look on Zyren’s face made it clear that he hadn’t decided the same.

    Zyren did not stare for long. Instead, he gesturedzily to his entourage of guards,manding them to follow as he slowly descended and walked toward Aira. Harriet, standing beside her, felt her legs begin to tremble even before Zyren reached them.

    Aira wanted to speak, to demand something—anything—but was taken aback when Zyren only nced at her and walked past, almost as though he were silently telling her the conversation would happen at a better time.

    Aira didn’t try to call him back, knowing she would simply embarrass herself if he ignored her. Instead, she silently followed behind.

    She entered the carriage he rode in, closing the door behind her, still impatient to speak. She opened her mouth—but Zyren beat her to it.

    "We’ll talk when we get back. I want to admire the scenery a little," he said.

    Aira frowned, staring at him. He had a soft smile on his lips as he gazed out the window, but there was something in his eyes that betrayed his thoughts—something that told her he was not thinking of the scenery at all, but of blood and gore.

    Seeing that the person she most wanted to speak to didn’t want to speak to her, Aira settled into her seat and waited until the carriage returned to the castle and came to a stop.

    Even then, she waited, trailing him silently into Zyren’s royal wing. She stepped in behind him and closed the door. Her hand was still on the door when she began to speak—only for Zyren to once again beat her to it.

    "Harriet isn’t going to die! I’m not going to kill her!" she told him, her voice sharp with determination.

    But the words had scarcely left her lips when she gasped, almost like she was gasping for air, as she realized she could not move an inch of her body.

    A single moment was all it took for her to realize Zyren had just used his ability on her. Her face wrenched in confusion as her eyes locked onto his, silently asking why—since she could not speak.

    But she didn’t have to. Zyren rose slowly, his expressionposed, his gaze fixed on her as he sat on the edge of the bed.

    "Are you telling me, or are you begging me?" he asked. His voice was soft, but there was a sharp undercurrent in it, something that told her Zyren was pissed.

    No—he wasn’t just pissed. For some reason Aira couldn’t understand, Zyren was beyond furious.

    For a long moment, Aira was stunned. Even if she had not been frozen on the spot, even if she had been free to move, she still wouldn’t have known what to say.

    "You speak like I owe you something," Zyren continued. "This makes me feel like I must have done something wrong."

    His voice dipped lower, crueler.

    "See...st I checked, I was king and you still belonged to me! Or am I somehow mistaken?." His crimson eyes bored into her, making her soul tremble in the deepest parts of her heart. "I was kind—kind, like one should be to one’s pet—but you seem to have taken that for granted."

    Slowly, he rose from the bed. With unhurried precision, he undid the sps of his coat and let it fall to the floor with a soft thud. His steps carried him toward her, his presence filling the room like smoke.

    "But make no mistake, Aira," he said, tilting his head slightly to the side, his voice rich with dark satisfaction.

    "The one thing I know I enjoy above everything else... the one thing that makes the cold, lifeless heart in my chest beat and race—" his smile widened, sharp, dangerous, "—is control."

    Her heart hammered in her chest. Confusion and fear twisted in her veins, even as he drew closer.

    "I had it right up until the moment you almost died... until you got your powers and werebeled the Messenger of Light."

    Aira could do nothing but listen, her voice trapped, her body bound, as Zyren raised his hand and touched her chin with deliberate care. A soft smile curved his lips—yet his eyes betrayed no warmth at all.

    "I don’t mind you being obeyed and worshipped, little me," he murmured.

    The nickname sent a shiver down her spine. Her heart pounded harder.