Chapter Six

Kenna smoothed the front of her gown and studied herself in the mirror.

She turned slightly, admiring the way the silk hugged her waist before lifting her chin.

“Are you sure one of these is enough?” she asked, eyeing the small crystal vial in Diya’s hand.

The liquid inside shimmered faintly.

“More than enough, My Lady,” Diya whispered. “It’s an ancient dragon-grade aphrodisiac. Pure potency. Once Lord Killian drinks it, he won’t be able to think straight. He’ll be utterly consumed by you.”

Kenna’s lips curled in a smile as she touched the massive diamond ring on her finger, admiring how perfectly it looked against her skin.

She had always known she was beautiful.

Her golden hair spun like sunlight was enough to make people stare. She was stunning enough to make noblemen forget their manners. And definitely beautiful enough to belong beside a king.

And soon, she would be a queen.

The thought sent a thrill through her.

“Queen,” she whispered, tasting the word.

It sounded even better than she had imagined.

Her gaze drifted toward the velvet-lined boxes scattered across her vanity. Jewels. Land deeds. Political promises. Gifts Killian had sent to secure her family’s allegiance.

Diya carefully set the vial down on the glass tabletop, studying her lady. “Honestly, Lady Kenna, you do not even need it. Lord Killian is already yours. The formal wedding will be completed within the month.”

Kenna’s smile vanished instantly.

“What do you know, silly maid? You better keep your mouth shut!” she snapped.

Diya instantly grew pale, flinching as if struck.

Kenna turned back to her reflection, her heart thumping with cold ambition. She had spent years playing the patient, perfect noblewoman while Queen Solia held the throne. She hadn't expected Solia to die so conveniently, nor had she expected Killian to claim the crown with such ruthless speed. Now, she wasn't going to sit around and meekly hope Killian would spill his seed inside her to bear the royal heir. A royal bride without a blood successor was easily replaced, but the mother of the next Dragon King held power forever. Besides, she'd paid a fortune for the potion. It would be a crime to waste it.

“I’ve waited long enough,” she muttered, her eyes dark.

Diya hesitated, wringing her hands nervously. “My Lady, if you anger Lord Killi—”

“What difference does it make? We are getting married anyway.”

She picked up the vial of glowing liquid and began to head for the door, then she paused, a sudden thought striking her. "How is our little captive? Is he dead yet?"

Diya reported to Kenna about Killian’s orders for the prisoner. The evening’s planned entertainment.

Kenna burst into a sudden laugh, she'd been furious that that little crow was still alive but Killian's punishment sounded better. "A male? Bred?" She shook her head, thoroughly amused. "God, Killian’s temper is terrifying. I'd almost pay to watch that circus tonight."

Then again... If Killian is busy marking her and putting an heir inside her belly, she won't have time for side shows, Kenna thought smugly. 

The grand ballroom was deafening—a sea of tailored tuxedos, silks, and expensive perfume. This was not just an engagement party, it was mostly about business and Killian maintaining connections.

Kenna accepted two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter. 

Scanning the room, she spotted Killian standing near the archway, surrounded by the old blood lords of Noctis. 

Kenna waited until the lords finally dispersed, leaving Killian standing alone.

This was her moment.

She glided forward, but before she could take three steps, a shadow blocked her path.

Ciel Basti appeared out of nowhere—Killian’s second-in-command— his eyes were as blank as a tombstone as he blocked her path.

"Lord Killian is remaining sober tonight, Lady Kenna," Ciel said. 

Kenna’s smile faltered.  A wave of pure irritation surged through her. The second she was queen, she would definitely have  this rigid dog reassigned.

"I am simply offering a toast to my fiancé," Kenna said, keeping her tone light and sweet, though her eyes flashed. "It is our engagement night, Ciel. Isn’t it a little disrespectful to keep stepping between a woman and her future husband?”

Ciel bowed his head slightly. "My apologies, My Lady. It is not my intention to offend.” Then, with the same irritating, stone-cold calm, he added, “If it pleases you, I can drink the champagne on Lord Killian’s behalf."

Kenna’s blood boiled. Drink it? If this brainless statue drank her thousand-gold potion, she’d have to kill him herself.

"Is there a problem here?"

Killian’s deep voice cut through the tension. He stepped beside Ciel, his imposing presence immediately changing the atmosphere.

Kenna’s irritation vanished.

She instantly softened her expression, letting her lower lip pout  "Killian, darling... I only wanted to share a drink with you to celebrate. But your shadow here acts as if I’m trying to poison you." She gave Ciel a cold, patronizing look. "He’s being terribly dramatic."

Killian didn’t soften, "Ciel is doing his job. There are too many important guest tonight, Kenna. I need my head clear." 

"Just one glass?" Kenna pressed, stepping into his space, holding out the crystal flute with her best, persuasive smile. "For us? To celebrate the future of our empire?"

Killian stared down at the bubbling liquid in the glass. A sharp, annoyed breath escaped his nose. "Fine."

He took the flute and drained the entire glass in a single gulp. He handed the empty crystal back to a waiter and turned on his heel.

Kenna kept her eyes on him the whole time. How long does it take? Ten minutes? Fifteen? She smiled into her own glass, taking a slow, triumphant sip.