Standing in front of that door, Isabelle called upon the expertise at which she had ruled Christencia all those years.
"Throne of Aila's Queen isn't for just anynbody,milady. If you're scared, you're here already so you can't go back or else you'll die without even knowing the cause. I suggest you bring out that Queen that stunned Declan. Best of luck Milady" Eastern didn't know what came over him. He just wanted to comfort her a little.
"Shall we?"he says urging but asking her giving her time to mentally prepare herself.
"After you Marquis"
Eastern pushed open the huge doors
The doors swung open and the chamber beyond revealed itself in all its grandeur. Candles burned in high sconces, their flame pale.Rows of chairs rose like tiers of jagged teeth, occupied by people whose presence radiated disdain as clearl as sunlight,they didn't bother hiding it.
Every council member sat upright, shoulders squared, eyes sharp with silent scorn.
No one looked curious. No one whispered speculation. They were vampires; they did not waste breath on lesser beings. They did not entertain humans.
Their only response to a human queen was contempt. Pure,utter and absolute disgust.
Isabelle's gaze swept slowly over them, noting the details even as they judged her. The tall, pale one with raven like hair had lips pressed thin, nostrils flaring ever so slightly, a subtle display of disapproval.
Another, broader, with deep bronze skin, leaned slightly forward, eyes narrowing as though merely looking at her could strip her of any pretense of royalty. Fangs peeked, sharp and deliberate,trying to intimidate her.
It was at this moment that it dawned on her that she was the only human in the midst of blood drinkers.
Simba, was seated nearer the front,his face pale but his expression was lazy as if he wasn't part of the courtroom. Western sat right next to him,his expression solemn,his eyes were not on her like the others,he looked at Ishekirn from time to time.Declan was seated opposite Simba,he was the only one who looked different from the rest,just like her. Eastern went to take his seat right next to him. Their attention was measured, strategic, like hawks waiting to see which way the wind would bend. Isabelle felt the contrast immediately: a mixture of hostility and calculated restraint, the difference between enemies ready to strike and allies hiding their teeth in patience.
He wasn't here
The throne was empty,she observed as she stops right beneath the throne.
A young lady leaned on the right side of the throne his hands on the sword in front of him with his eyes closed.
With his eyes closed!??
Seems like they were in the middle of discussions when she walked in.
"Hmph,what has gotten over the king this time? A human Queen? Never,I would never bow down to a human" The older one with the raven hair said,his eyes red,his fangs baring at Isabelle.
They didn't try to hide their contempt even in her presence.
"I didn't know the King needed your permission to make a decision now Herman"Eastern said releasing pressure on the man,his eyes narrowing as he sneered. He wasn't happy about the marriage but even he dared not speak casually about it. How dare they??.
"I don't understand why we're all making a fuss over a human,at worst she's just a sex toy for the King. She can still be the king's concubine to warm his bed" The one sitting adjacent Declan said looking Isabelle up and down.
" "This time the king has crossed the line," Herman snapped. "Infatuation, perhaps. She's not unpleasant to look at. Let her be a concubine if he must. But a human will never be our queen. Never."
Murmurs followed.
"How would we face the imperial capital?" another elder rasped, his wrinkled face twisting.
"I don't see why we're debating," a vampire near Declan added lazily, eyes roaming Isabelle without shame. "At worst, she warms the king's bed."
Hmm.
Found you.
"The king is indulging a phase," the vampire said coolly. "Some are not meant to be given reins over certain things. Mixing politics with pleasure."he added with utter disgust.
Western smiled faintly. "Speak like that again if you no longer value your head."
"You dare?" the man snarled.
"You think I don't?" Eastern replied, his aura flaring.
Mana collided.
The air tightened, rippling with pressure. Lower-ranking vampires shifted uneasily,blue bloods clashing was never subtle.
Simba watched with disinterest. Western observed calmly. Declan looked tired. The young man by the throne opened his eyes, dark gaze flicking between the two nobles.
Then
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Isabelle's footsteps rang out, sharp and deliberate, cutting through the tension.
The clash faltered.
"How dare....." Herman began.
"You shouldn't seek death so actively," Simba said mildly cutting off everyone who was about to make a move.
Silence exploded into outrage.
Declan smiled. Moleith's brow lifted. Western remained unreadable. Eastern stared.
This was her method?
Isabelle didn't care.
Her heart hammered, but she kept it caged. This was a gamble—but a calculated one. First impressions decided survival. Hesitation would doom her to endless oppression.
"Are you finished?" she asked.
Her voice was low. Controlled. Her lashes dipped as her gaze swept them,slow, dismissive.
"How dare you sit on the throne, you puny human!" a younger vampire snarled, pointing.
Yes.
She was sitting on the Throne of Aila.
Her right arm draped casually over the armrest.
"Your Highness," she said.
The young vampire blinked. "What?"
"I am not yet your queen," Isabelle continued calmly. "And I will not be fussy over titles, since the crown will eventually be mine regardless. But I am the Royal Princess of Christencia." Her gaze sharpened. "You will address me as such."
She tilted her head slightly, eyes never leaving his.
"I hate being pointed at. Do not ever try that again."
A pause.
"Is that clear?"
The vampire's lip curled. "You bi..."
Whoosh.
The dagger flew.
It sliced past his ear, clean and precise, shearing flesh just enough to draw blood before burying itself deep into the door behind him with a brutal thunk.
Silence fell,thick, absolute.
The young vampire froze, one hand flying to his ear as warm blood slipped between his fingers. His eyes widened,not in pain, but in shock. He hadn't seen her move.
Moleith's pupils contracted sharply.
As alert as he was, he realized too late that her hand had already been seconds away from the dagger at his waist before his mind had caught up. The throw had been instinctive. Very efficient.
Eastern stared.
Was she reckless… or was she simply fearless?
Simba leaned back further into his seat, finally interested. Declan's lips curved into an unapologetic grin.
"I don't have patience," Isabelle said coolly, rolling her shoulder once as though she'd merely brushed away an irritation.
She turned her head toward Moleith.
"You."
He was almost awake now. "Me?"
"Yes. You." Her voice didn't rise. It didn't need to. "If he raises his fingers again...."
Her eyes flicked briefly to the bleeding vampire, then returned to Moleith.
"I want both his arms."
A beat.
No outrage. No hysteria.
Just law being stated.
The chamber shifted.
Shock and awe slid into the air like a blade finding its sheath.
Moleith studied her for a long moment, then inclined his head once.
"As you command," he said quietly.
The young vampire swallowed hard, arms dropping instantly to his sides.
Good.
Isabelle leaned back slightly on the throne, fingers resting lightly on the armrest not gripping, not claiming, merely occupying.
She lifted her gaze to the council at large.
"Now....."
She spoke again, voice smooth as cut glass.
"Did someone say something about warming the bed?"
The words landed softly.
Too softly.
A ripple passed through the chamber barely visible, but unmistakable. A few councilors stiffened. One hissed under his breath. Another's lip curled, amused and offended in equal measure.
Isabelle tilted her head, pale lashes lowering as if in thought.
"Surprisingly," she continued lightly, "I received a rather thoughtful betrothal gift from His Majesty."
She slipped her hand into her sleeve.
The movement was unhurried.
Measured.
Her fingers emerged holding wood.
Not ornamented. Not ceremonial.
A dagger.
No,closer inspection revealed the truth.
A stake.
Polished smooth by careful hands, its edges sharpened with deliberate restraint. The grain of the wood was dark, ancient, treated with oils that made it gleam faintly as Aila's pale sun filtered through the high windows. It caught the light just enough to remind every vampire present what it was made to do.
A weapon not for war.
But for hearts.
A hush fell.
Someone inhaled sharply.
Isabelle's lips curved,thin, knowing, almost amused.
"Now I see why."
Her gaze lifted, slow and unflinching, settling on the councilor who had spoken of beds and concubines.
"This," she said softly, turning the stake once between her fingers, "Tis a befitting gift."
Silence.
Not contempt this time.
Calculation.