Kaedan did not repeat the command. He didn’t need to. His fingers tightened imperceptibly on the collar, and Ariaxa’s lips parted before her mind caught up with her terror. The feast shifted around them—laughter, moans, clinking goblets—but every sound faded under the weight of his gaze.
He brought two fingers to his own plate, catching a sliver of blood-glazed fruit between them. The juice glimmered dark red under the torchlight, dripping slowly toward the marble floor. Kaedan lifted the morsel toward Ariaxa’s mouth, stopping only inches away, letting the scent tease her until she felt dizzy.
“Look at me,” he murmured.
Ariaxa forced her gaze upward, her breath trembling.
Kaedan’s expression remained unreadable as he pushed the fruit against her lower lip. The sweetness hit first, but beneath it lingered something metallic and unfamiliar—vampiric flavoring, no doubt, mixed with whatever cruel delights graced their feasts. She swallowed, feeling the heat of the collar pulse with satisfaction.
Kaedan’s voice slid over her skin.
“Again.”
He fed her another piece. Then another. Each one slower than the last, as if he were measuring every shift in her breath, every tightening of her jaw, every flicker of defiance she attempted to hide. The entire table seemed to watch, even if only through the corners of their eyes.
Seren definitely watched.
Her nails dug into Kaedan’s thigh through the silk of her dress as she leaned forward.
“Is this necessary, my Emperor?” she asked, her voice sweet enough to rot. “She has done nothing to earn—”
Kaedan lifted a single finger. Seren’s mouth snapped shut. Ariaxa felt Seren’s rage thrum in the air like lightning about to strike.
Kaedan set down the fruit and leaned back into his throne-like chair, the shadows clinging to the edges of his body.
“You will kneel,” he said to Ariaxa. “Right there.”
Ariaxa blinked. “H-here?”
Kaedan’s gaze sharpened.
“Do you hear me stutter?”
She slid from the dais onto the cold marble floor. The chill raced up her legs instantly, tightening the muscles in her thighs. She kept her back straight, her shoulders down, her hands resting lightly on her knees as the harem had taught her.
Kaedan nodded once.
“Hold your posture.”
The feast resumed around her—although it hadn’t truly stopped. Nobles tugged their slaves into their laps, lips colliding, bodies grinding. Someone screamed in pleasure at the far end of the hall. Someone else laughed while tipping a goblet of wine over a kneeling man’s back, letting it run down his spine like spilled blood.
Ariaxa stared straight ahead, eyes unfocused, trying to ignore the obscene sounds surrounding her.
Then the collar tightened. Not enough to choke. Enough to remind. Kaedan glanced down at her.
“Your spine is softening.”
Ariaxa straightened immediately, heat rushing to her face. Seren smirked across Kaedan’s lap.
“How precious,” she purred. “She can’t even kneel correctly.”
The collar tightened again. Kaedan’s voice was cold as winter stone.
“Correct yourself.”
Ariaxa inhaled and forced her body into perfect stillness, every muscle trembling with effort. The collar pulsed, testing, waiting, threatening. And Kaedan watched the entire time from above, drinking from his goblet while studying her like a slave put on auction display.
When the feast finally ended, the nobles drifted away with sticky fingers, stained lips, and sated groans. Slaves were gathered, some carried, some dragged, some ordered to stay behind.
Kaedan stood slowly, his cloak cascading behind him like living smoke.
“Ariaxa.”
Her name hit her like a hand around her throat.
“Yes, my Emperor…”
“Follow.”
She rose on shaking legs, pain rippling through her knees as blood returned to them. Seren shot her a poisonous look as Kaedan walked away—one that promised this was far from over.
Ariaxa trailed behind Kaedan through the palace corridors, her feet whispering across the marble. The torches dimmed as they neared his private chamber, the great obsidian doors sliding open with a hiss of enchanted steel.
Inside, the air felt charged—darker, heavier.
And Riven was already there.
He knelt on the floor between Kaedan’s knees, his broad shoulders squared, his posture perfect, his head bowed low. The candlelight sculpted the lines of his back, the strength of his thighs, the devotion etched into the angle of his neck.
Kaedan sat.
“Watch.”
Ariaxa froze.
Riven lowered himself even further, his forehead almost touching Kaedan’s boots. His breath moved slowly, controlled, as though each inhale were offered in worship.
Kaedan spoke softly.
“This is what obedience looks like.”
Riven did not flinch. Not once. Ariaxa swallowed hard. Kaedan’s hand drifted into Riven’s hair, gripping it with casual dominance, tilting his head upward.
“You do not need to speak,” Kaedan told him. “Your body answers for you.”
Riven exhaled—a sound of surrender, not fear. Ariaxa’s stomach twisted, a storm of confusion, shame, fear, and something far darker curling beneath her ribs.
Kaedan’s gaze flicked to her. “You are looking away.”
Ariaxa’s breath hitched. “I… I didn’t—”
The collar snapped pain through her throat like lightning. She fell to her knees with a gasp.
“Keep your eyes open,” Kaedan instructed calmly. “If you turn your face from what obedience is, you will never survive here.”
Ariaxa forced her gaze back to them, her pulse racing so loudly she could barely hear.
Kaedan stroked Riven’s jaw with slow, deliberate cruelty.
“He kneels for me without hesitation. Without pride. Without rebellion.” He tightened his grip, making Riven’s lips part from the pressure. “He has mastered the art of silence. You, however…”
Ariaxa bit back a sound of pain as the collar squeezed again.
Kaedan rose suddenly, releasing Riven and stepping toward her. His boots stopped directly in front of Ariaxa’s trembling body.
“You believe I am punishing your flesh,” he said quietly. “But you misunderstand.”
He knelt, his face leveling with hers, fingers gripping the collar.
“I am punishing your mind.”
Ariaxa’s breath shattered.
Kaedan tilted her chin upward, his eyes swallowing the candlelight.
“Your fear is not enough yet. Your pride is not broken. Your will still claws at the edges.”
He leaned close enough that his breath ghosted over her mouth.
“That will change.”
Ariaxa felt the room spin. Kaedan stood again, his voice dropping into the kind of softness that froze blood.
“Tomorrow, you will learn what the Blood Crypts do to fragile little princesses.”