Chapter 45: The Daughter Returned
707 Words
The great hall shimmered with quiet magnificence.
Golden chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, their light reflecting off polished marble floors and intricately carved pillars. Banners of deep crimson and gold draped the walls—symbols of Lancaster’s strength and legacy.
At the center of it all stood the royal family.
And Diana.
She barely recognized herself.
The gown she wore flowed like liquid silver, woven with faint threads of gold that caught the light with every movement. The fabric clung just enough to define her form before cascading elegantly to the floor. Around her shoulders rested a light, sheer mantle, embroidered with delicate patterns that seemed almost alive.
A thin circlet rested against her dark hair.
Simple.
But unmistakably royal.
Kaelen and Theon stood on either side of her, dressed in tailored black and gold attire, their presence commanding and protective. Their expressions remained composed—but their attention never strayed far from her.
Behind them, Queen Maltida stood adorned in deep royal blue, her gown layered and regal, with intricate beadwork that spoke of both power and grace. Beside her, King Herald wore a structured robe of dark crimson, lined with gold embroidery that marked his authority unmistakably.
Diana swallowed.
This was real.
Too real.
The hall fell silent as Herald stepped forward.
“For years, this kingdom has endured a loss…”
His voice carried effortlessly, steady and commanding.
“A loss we could not mend… no matter how far we searched.”
Maltida stepped beside him, her expression softer, but no less powerful.
“But today… that loss is restored.”
A ripple passed through the crowd.
Then—
“Our daughter… has returned to us.”
The words echoed.
And Diana stepped forward.
The weight of countless eyes fell on her instantly.
Whispers spread like wildfire.
“That’s her…”
“She looks—”
“Where has she been all this time?”
Diana held her posture—but her chest tightened.
Exposed.
Then Maltida spoke again.
“But she was not alone.”
The murmurs paused.
“For the years we could not reach her… she was protected.”
Diana’s heart skipped.
Maltida’s gaze shifted toward the side of the hall.
“Aaron.”
Diana turned.
Aaron and his family stepped forward—hesitant, out of place among such grandeur.
Maltida’s voice softened.
“You raised her.”
Silence.
Heavy. Respectful.
“You cared for her when we could not. You gave her a home… a life.”
Diana’s throat tightened.
“For that,” Herald added, his voice firm, “the crown owes you a debt that cannot be repaid.”
The hall erupted—not in noise, but in acknowledgment.
Respect.
Recognition.
Diana blinked quickly, steadying herself.
Then—
A voice cut through.
Sharp.
“If that is so… then what of the one who hunts her?”
The hall stilled.
“Camilla,” the man continued. “If she truly lives… how has time not claimed her?”
Unease spread.
Then—
An elder stepped forward.
“It is because she does not live as we do.”
Silence deepened.
“She sustains herself through forbidden means.”
Diana’s voice came quietly.
“…How?”
The elder met her gaze.
“She binds powerful men to her life force,” he said. “And over time… drains their essence.”
A murmur rippled.
“The stronger the man… the longer she endures.”
Diana’s stomach tightened.
“…That’s—”
“Not a clean process,” the elder said.
Silence.
Cold.
Unsettling.
“As for the women who serve her…” he continued.
“She takes what is easiest to claim.”
A pause.
“Blood.”
Another.
“Hair.”
Another.
“Tears.”
Then—
“And beauty.”
The word lingered.
“She maintains her allure deliberately,” he added. “To draw in those she intends to bind.”
Diana’s fingers curled slightly.
This wasn’t just survival.
It was calculated.
Controlled.
Dangerous.
Her gaze shifted—
And met Dylan’s.
His expression had darkened.
And for the first time since she stepped into the hall—
Diana truly understood.
She wasn’t just found.
She had been placed back into something far bigger than herself.
- Writer
