The morning after
332 Words
Morning crept into the room like a silent intruder, casting pale light across the silk sheets tangled around Aria’s limbs. Her body ached in places she hadn’t known could hurt. Her throat was dry, her skin clammy, and the bite on her neck throbbed like a secret burning through her veins.
She opened her eyes slowly, unsure of where she was for a moment.
The room was still, too still.
Damien was gone.
Only the imprint of his presence remained — a coldness in the air, the lingering scent of something dark and masculine. Aria touched her neck and flinched. The skin was tender, marked by two small punctures. Real. Deep. Permanent.
A wave of confusion and fear rose in her chest.
What had he done to her?
She forced herself to rise, wrapping the silk sheet around her body. The mirror across the room confirmed what she dreaded: her skin was paler than before, her eyes darker, as if shadows had crept beneath her skin.
A knock at the door broke her daze. A maid stepped in, eyes lowered, voice thin. “Breakfast has been prepared, my lady. The prince requests your presence in the east wing.”
Aria blinked. Requests? Not demands?
She dressed in silence, the maid avoiding her gaze as if afraid to speak or perhaps forbidden to do so. The gown she’d been given was elegant, but it felt like a costume. A mask to cover the girl she no longer was.
As she walked through the long marble corridor, whispers floated behind her. Servants bowed. Guards stepped aside. It felt as if the palace had changed overnight.
Or perhaps she had.
When she reached the east wing doors, her fingers hesitated on the handle.
She was his wife now. Bound by blood, body… and something even more dangerous.
And as the doors creaked open, Aria knew one thing with chilling clarity:
She had entered a world she didn’t understand — and there was no turning back.
- Writer
