The Beast Arrival

Three Years Later

"The Crown Prince of Vornholt was crowned today," Silas, the spymaster announced the moment he stepped into the war tent, his boots still muddy from the ride.

"We might have to move quickly,"

"And why must we be in a hurry?" Vaelor asked, his voice low and gravelly, like stones grinding in the deep - calm, but the kind of calm that made men stop breathing.

Silas swallowed.

"They crowned him at 21, my lord. The Lords are calling for a feast in his honor and... they have officially agreed to the marriage. Princess Genevieve to Lord Cedric. The papers are waiting for your seal."

Vaelor Drayke did not look up from the map.

He was thirty, shirt half open, a scar cutting from his left shoulder to his ribs - a souvenir from the Valley village the palace said he burned. He looked every bit the Beast they named him. Beautiful in the way a drawn blade is beautiful. Not handsome. Dangerous.

"So?" Vaelor said.

"On your command, I think we should make our first strike," Silas suggested carefully.

"On whose command?"

"Yours,"

Vaelor raised his head finally from the map to finally stare cold into Silas' eyes.

"Then no opinions will be acknowledged," Vaelor said, his voice dropping colder, "However, I do not wish to strike while the marriage is on, we shall observe,"

"My Lord, we need to move fast and strike now, if we don't then we--"

Before Silas could complete, a blade sliced past him - so fast it was just a silver flash, embedding itself in the wooden post behind him, a hair from his ear.

Silas froze, blood draining from his face.

Vaelor says with a tight voice, "Like I said, we shall observe. Did I make myself clear?"

Silas dropped to one knee instantly. "Yes, my Lord."

Vaelor walked past him and yanked his knife free from the wood.

"Get up," he said. "You are my second, not my dog. But do not question me in front of my men again. The boy is now King. Let him have his feast. Let Vornholt believe they have peace."

He stared down at the map again, at the capital marked in red. The Vornholt capital.

A slow, dark smile touched his mouth.

"I'd rather also feast tonight... I mean to also celebrate the new King. I hear they have the best women, The Sinners is where all the Lords go to spill secrets when they are drunk on wine and women."

Silas frowned. "My Lord, you want to go to a brothel?"

"Precisely, what better way to celebrate my enemies than indulging in their vices. Book me a private room. We leave for Vornholt tonight."

---

The capital city of Vornholt buzzed with celebration, from electric performances on the streets to drummers and wine merchants shouting free drink for the King. Everyone was happy the Crown Prince was now King.

Though the inside of the palace wasn't a reflection of the happenings outside of the palace walls.

"You might be King now, but remind yourself that you shall still answer to me," Dowager Queen said sharply to Amias.

"Can we not do this in a time like this mother? I have promised that I won't forget my boundaries of who I am, or what is at stake for me," Amias says in a hushed voice, she'd trained her voice to sound more baritone like her brother would if he was alive.

"Genevieve's wedding, she might be against it but it is very much going to happen to keep the peace between the Beasts and us, we don't want a repeat of what happened to your father," Dowager Queen said, her eyes scanned around the room to be sure nobody was around them.

"Father was killed by the Beasts, you told me," Amias said.

"Vaelor Drayke himself is coming. He lands tonight. I've had someone look into the details for me, he is clearly coming to offer his congratulations for your becoming King,"

And also traffic women out of the capital, Amias thought to himself.

He felt cold.

"The Sinners is where he is at, I already instructed the dancers and the madam to have their ears down for anything that would happen, but that won't be enough."

"So you want me to send Caelum?"

"I want YOU to go," she said. "Caelum has a face everyone knows. You..."

She looked at him. At that beautifully handsome, indescribable face. The one she birthed and left to abandon. The one hidden behind her dead son.

"No one will know the King if he is dressed as a woman. Put on a veil. Shave. You were a girl once, remember how? Go and listen. Find out what Vaelor Drayke wants."

Amias's stomach dropped. "You want me to dress as Azubah again? To go to a harlot house?"

"Do you have a much better idea?"

---

The Sinners - Midnight

The air was thick with perfume, wine, and smoke. Music played, low and sinful.

Azubah had not worn a dress in fourteen years.

Her chest was bound, but under the sheer gold veil and the loose silks Madam had given her, she looked like what she was - a beautiful girl, not a King. Her hair, usually tied as Amias, fell in dark waves. Her lips were painted.

She hated how easy it felt.

"New girls stand in line!" Madam Yara barked. "We have an important guest tonight! Lord from the border! Rich! He pays double for untouched ones!"

Five girls were pushed into a dim room. Azubah stood at the end, hands shaking.

The door opened.

He did not look like a Lord. He looked like a storm wearing a man's skin.

Vaelor Drayke entered, thirty years old, tall, black cloak still dusty from the road, scar visible at his open collar. Silas behind him.

His eyes were dead, bored, scanning the girls like they were livestock.

"Not her. Not her. Too much paint," he said, voice gravelly. "Not her."

Madam Yara laughed nervously, "My Lord, these are our finest--"

His eyes stopped.

At the end of the line.

On her.

She couldn't breathe. The veil hid half her face, but her eyes - her eyes were wide, furious, terrified. She was the only one not looking at him with hunger. She was looking at him like she wanted to kill him.

Vaelor stared for a long second. Something flickered in his chest, something hot and strange.

He lifted a finger and pointed directly at her.

"Her," he said. "I want her."