When two dark hearts connect

The sentence

Chapter three

Seraphine’s pov

“No, I am not going to marry him.”

My voice snapped through the heavy, oppressive silence of my master’s private solar,hard enough to shatter the glass jars lining the stone walls.

My master sat on the far side of a massive,obsidian scarred desk,completely swallowed by the shadows of his sweeping black cloak.

His gloved hands were steepled together,perfectly still

“You do not have a choice,seraphine” his muffled voice replied.

“ He is an assassin of Domus Doloris , we have hunted each other in the dark,slit throats in alley.marrying Azriel Dusk is not a peace offering,it is a slow execution.”

“Good,he rasped, the coldness of his tone chilling the air around us. “A dog that had tasted its rival’s blood knows how to bite back when commanded.”

“How does this benefit us?”i demanded

“It benefits us because survival demands it”,he rasped “once your marriage to Azriel is sealed,our two guilds will officially merge”

My breath hitches,I look at him bewildered

He continues, “the king upon his throne may be young and lazy,wrapped in luxury and blind to the true power.”

“But he will not tolerate us forever.He cannot afford to have two assassin rival syndicates operating like phantom kingdoms within his border.”

“Sooner or later,his eyes will turn towards us,and we are divided,he will crush us both”

“But——— I started

A sudden,blinding agony slammed into my chest,stealing the air from my lungs.

My master’s magic

My vision blurred at the edges,every breath turned into liquid fire,and my knees buckled against the hard stone floor,

“Save your breath for the altar,”he rasped softly

The cruel magic easing just enough to let me gasp for air

“You are going to marry,Azriel Dusk the most ruthless Assassin of Domus Doloris.”

———————————————

Stumbling out of the solar with wobbly legs,I felt a presence

A hand reached for my shoulder.

Whipping around,I caught the wrist just in time,only for a melodic laugh to echo off the stone.

A familiar, teasing voice chirped “still jumpy, are we”?

Letting out a ragged breath,I released her wrist and gave her forehead a sharp,playful flick

“Denim,” I muttered,a faint smile breaking through my exhaustion

Denim is our youngest archivist barely nineteen,yet running our vast records with terrifying precision.

Her playful grin melted into a sharp frown as she saw my pale face.exhausted frame

“What’s wrong”? She asked.

“It’s nothing.” I lied

Denim narrowed her eyes,unconvinced. “oh?” She murmured,folding her arms across her chest.”because the corridors are crawling with whispers.”

“People are saying the rumours are true that we are merging with Domus Doloris”

“And that you are the one being thrown to the wolves to seal it. Tell me you are not actually going to marry your enemy.”

I let out a bitter,humorless laugh

“Do I look like I have a choice”?