Marked by the Enemy King

The rain didn't just fall; it hammered against the vaulted glass ceilings of the Petros palace like a million tiny executioners drumming for a head. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of ozone, expensive floor wax, and the metallic tang of blood that still clung to Nikos’s skin. He was forced down, the impact of his knees hitting the cold marble echoing through the cavernous throne room. The sound was a sharp, sickening crack that vibrated up his spine, a reminder that he was no longer the heir to a legacy, but a piece of wreckage washed up on a hostile shore. His wrists were raw where the zip-ties bit into the flesh, a modern cruelty that felt more insulting than iron shackles.Above him, the palace lights hummed with a sterile, white intensity, reflecting off the polished floor until the world looked like it was made of frozen light. Nikos kept his head down, watching a single droplet of rainwater fall from the tip of his nose to the marble. He was drenched, his designer shirt

Nikos froze, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. The King’s breath was a warm, steady pressure against the sensitive skin of his throat, and the word 'fond' felt less like a compliment and more like a death sentence. For a heartbeat, the room was silent, the only sound the crackle of the hearth and the heavy, rhythmic thrum of Nikos’s own blood in his ears. Andreas let go of his wrist, the heat of the King’s palm lingering on his skin as if branded there."Finish," Andreas commanded, his voice returning to that low, tectonic rumble. "Then get some sleep. Tomorrow, the court celebrates the unification. You will be there to witness the new era you helped usher in with your family’s silence."The dismissal was abrupt, leaving Nikos to fumble with the remaining buttons with trembling fingers. He didn't look back as he retreated to the small, cold servant’s alcove he had been assigned. He spent the night staring at the stone ceiling, the King’s observation about his s