Chapter 1 - Captured again...
His throat burned as he slowly came to.Only reluctantly did the dense haze before his eyes begin to lift, still dancing as the world spun heavily around him while Aldric gradually regained consciousness.
Dully, he became aware that he was in an ice-cold room that smelled of damp rot—and something else. Something his mind instinctively tried to reject.
A low groan escaped him as he struggled onto his hands and knees. At that exact moment, a loud clatter shattered the silence as chains shifted—a sound that echoed through his skull like the tolling of heavy bells.
Groaning, he raised a hand to his head, which throbbed unbearably, only to hear the metallic clinking even clearer now, sharper, closer.
Iron chains were wrapped tightly around his wrists—left and right.Aldric stared at the restraints for a moment, as if he couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing, before slowly letting himself sink back. Cold stone pressed against his back, rough and unforgiving, yet in that moment he was grateful for it, as his body barely had the strength to hold itself upright.
What the hell had happened to him?
It took several deep breaths before the dizziness slowly faded and the world around him steadied. Only then did he truly feel the burning in his throat, and almost instinctively his fingers moved to his neck. The skin felt swollen—tender, irritated—and suddenly his memories came rushing back.
Lady Isabella.
And the other dark figures who had overwhelmed him.
Apparently, they had succeeded in getting him out of the Crown Prince’s estate.
So had it never been their intention to kill him?
Had they only meant to abduct him?
Or had the attempt on his life simply failed?
Judging by the dryness in his throat and the painful pressure around his neck, it could have been either. If that man had kept squeezing for just a moment longer, Aldric would likely have suffocated—never waking again.
Slowly, he let his head fall back against the stone wall and forced himself to take in his surroundings.
A dungeon. Again.
The small cell was sealed off by heavy wrought-iron bars that rose before him like a cage. To his left, pale moonlight filtered through a small, high window, barely breaking against the cold stone.
He would have liked to stand—to look outside, to grasp anything that might give him orientation.
But there were two problems.
First, the window was far too high to ever reach.And second, the chains gave him barely enough freedom to stand at all.
They were anchored into the wall on both sides of him—massive, heavy, utterly unyielding. Any attempt to free himself would be doomed from the start. The iron rings bit painfully into his wrists, each small movement forcing the metal deeper into his skin.
Why had they brought him here?
What did Isabella gain from removing him?
She had told him to his face that she wanted to hurt Vortan. So why this?
And what would Vortan think when he learned Aldric had disappeared?
He would likely brand him a traitor without hesitation.
He was as good as dead.
They might as well have killed him outright. But Aldric made no illusions—just because he had survived this attack didn’t mean a quick or merciful death awaited him.
Quite the opposite.
He knew too much.
Whoever held him here—so long as he lived, he was a danger. Even the mere possibility that he could speak made him a risk.
Aldric didn’t know how much time passed as he sat there. His thoughts circled endlessly, repeating over and over while his gaze drifted aimlessly toward the ceiling. He began counting the bars, watching the clouds pass slowly across the moon, as if it were the only thing anchoring him.
Minutes stretched into hours.
Until finally, a long, creaking sound cut through the silence, announcing a visitor.
Aldric tensed instinctively.
To his right, there must have been a long corridor lined with more cells. His own seemed to be at the very end, because now heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed over the stone floor—boots approaching with unsettling calm.
A man stopped directly in front of the bars.
He was tall, muscular, dark-skinned—his body marked by strength. He wore only trousers, while a black hood concealed his face, revealing only his eyes. Around his sun-bronzed biceps were two iron rings that clinked softly with every movement.
Aldric watched as the man calmly inserted a key into the lock. Instinctively, he closed his eyes for a brief moment.
An executioner.
The thought was clear. Unavoidable.
They would behead him.And Aldric didn’t even know why.
But did it matter?
Not in this world.
The door opened, and the man stepped aside to let two others enter. They wore the simple armor of guards. Without a word, they approached Aldric, detached the chains from the wall—
and in the next moment, they hauled him roughly to his feet.
Aldric didn’t bother asking questions.
Where they were taking him.Whether this was his execution.
It wouldn’t change anything.
Either they would remain silent—or he would only humiliate himself.
The chains tightened as they dragged him forward without mercy, every step accompanied by the cold clinking of metal. Behind him, the executioner followed—silent, but unmistakable. And Aldric forced himself not to think about how it felt as if death itself walked right behind him.
But to his surprise, they didn’t lead him to a scaffold.
Instead, they climbed—step after step, higher and higher—until they reached rooms that stood in stark contrast to the dungeon he had come from.
The surroundings suddenly seemed refined, luxurious.
It reminded him of the estate where he had spent the past few days.
Door after door opened and closed. Corridors blurred past him into an indistinct pattern of stone, light, and shadow. Everything moved too fast for him to orient himself. He didn’t know where they were taking him—or where he even was.
At last, they entered one of the largest rooms.
Without warning, the guards shoved him down onto his knees. Pain shot through his body as they fastened the chains to a massive iron ring anchored in the floor.
Confused, Aldric lifted his gaze.
The guards left the room. The hooded man—the executioner—pulled the heavy double doors shut behind him.
And suddenly, Aldric was alone.
He blinked.
The floor beneath him was polished wood, smooth and immaculate—almost foreign beneath his knees. Fine carpets surrounded him, and the room was so high that the heavy velvet curtains at the windows felt almost oppressive. Behind them shimmered pale silk, through which the light of the rising sun filtered, revealing manicured gardens beyond.
He was clearly in the residence of high nobility.
But why?
Slowly, Aldric looked forward.
A wide platform rose there, accessible by a few shallow steps. Upon it stood an ornate chair—too grand, too elaborate to be just a seat.
A throne.
On either side stood intricately carved stone statues. Lions rested on their paws, watchful and proud, while a finely crafted laurel wreath framed the platform.
Aldric swallowed.
Did that mean he—
He nearly flinched as one of the side doors opened and a figure he knew all too well entered the room.
Lady Isabella.
Her face reflected nothing but pain and deep sorrow. Her gaze immediately fixed on Aldric as she was led into the room by two guards. He opened his mouth, overwhelmed by the questions rising within him—but no words came.
The guards led Isabella to a chair positioned to the right, just below the platform. With the effortless elegance of nobility, she sat down without taking her eyes off him.
Aldric tried to straighten, but the guards reacted instantly, stepping forward, partially drawing their swords in a clear warning.
But Isabella raised her hand.
Slowly, she shook her head. Something flickered in her eyes—something Aldric couldn’t read.
Her lips moved silently:
Please don’t.
Aldric froze for a moment, then slowly sank back onto his heels.
Right in front of him sat the only person who could give him answers—and yet he knew he would get none.
Not from her.
His gaze drifted back to the stone lions.
What did all of this mean?
Was Isabella nothing more than a puppet in this game?
Or was that sorrowful expression just a perfectly crafted mask?
Was what he had seen in Vortan’s chambers merely a performance—a deception for her own brother?
Was she pursuing her own goals?
Trying to overthrow Vortan?
Suspicion stirred within him as he desperately tried to piece everything together. But no matter which path his thoughts followed—nothing formed a coherent picture.
The heavy doors opened again.
This time, firm, confident footsteps announced the next arrival.
Aldric clenched his fists as Crown Prince Alexander entered the room, followed by a small escort of guards.
“Ahhh,” he said, his voice laced with open satisfaction as he took his seat upon the throne.
The guards spread around him like shadows.
“So, we have a guest.”
Unlike their last encounter, Alexander now wore magnificent attire—both noble and functional. A finely adorned sword hung at his side, inlaid with gold and diamonds—ornate, but far from decorative.
A high-quality leather cuirass clung to his muscular chest as he leaned casually on one hand, watching Aldric with a faint smile.
Aldric clenched his teeth so tightly his jaw ached and forced himself to keep his gaze lowered, fixing instead on the prince’s boots.
Whatever you do—never look him in the eyes. Otherwise, something very cruel will happen to you.
Vortan’s words echoed in his mind.
He didn’t know if following that advice would save his life.
But it was all he had left.
So he remained still—fists clenched, head lowered.
He didn’t know what awaited him. And a part of him was certain he didn’t want to know.
“Quite pretty. Just as I remember,” Alexander continued, his voice laced with casual arrogance.
“Only this time a little… dirty. Don’t you think, Isabella?”
The tone with which he spoke her name made Aldric tense inwardly.
“A little,” Isabella agreed. Her voice was calm—almost indifferent, as if none of this concerned her at all.
“But, my dear…” Alexander’s smile widened. “Now that we already have him here, we might as well enjoy the sight.”
“Yes, Alexander.”
Again, that same neutral agreement.
And yet Aldric thought he heard something beneath it—a faint, barely suppressed tremor that sounded dangerously close to a sob.
Alexander let out a quiet, mocking laugh.
“I’m pleased you fulfilled my request so quickly, dear cousin.”
Then, suddenly, his voice turned cold.
“Raise your gaze, bodyguard.”
Aldric obeyed.
Slowly, he lifted his head—but let his eyes drift past Alexander, fixing instead on the wall behind him. He had already seen the prince’s eyes once—had seen the monster within them.
And he would not willingly seek that gaze again.
“You will now tell me everything—every last detail—about Vortan’s filthy plans.”
Aldric’s brows twitched upward involuntarily.
Plans?
What plans?
Alexander noticed the reaction instantly.
“You don’t seriously expect me to believe you weren’t aware that my cousin is scheming to prevent my upcoming coronation?”
Displeasure weighed heavily in his voice.
But Aldric simply shook his head.
A quiet, irritated exhale escaped the prince.
“Answer me!”
His voice thundered through the hall, making even the air seem to tremble. Aldric swallowed—but he stayed with the truth.
Again, he shook his head.
A brief flick of Alexander’s hand.
That was all it took.
A guard stepped forward and struck him across the face with such force that Aldric was thrown sideways. Pain exploded through his skull, sharp and blinding—but he clenched his teeth and suppressed any sound.
Instead, he heard something else.
A sharp, startled gasp—from Isabella.
Slowly, Aldric pushed himself upright again, forcing his body back into a straight posture before settling once more onto his lower legs. His gaze dropped again.
He knew how this would end.
He didn’t possess the information Alexander wanted.
So they would try to force it out of him.
Or simply dispose of him.
Either way—it led to the same outcome.
Suddenly, something moved in front of him.
Aldric lifted his gaze slightly—just enough to see that Alexander now stood directly before him. The guard stepped back.
“You think you’re particularly clever, don’t you?”
His voice had grown quieter—dangerously calm.
“When I ask you a question, you will look me in the eyes and give me an answer, peasant.”
Aldric only nodded silently, his fingers digging tighter into his thighs.
Beside him, steel rang sharply as a guard drew her sword and pressed it against his throat.
Aldric lifted his chin slightly, exposing his neck.
If he had to die—then at least with dignity.
The crown prince let out a soft sigh. Then he gave a small signal, and the sword was withdrawn.
Alexander lowered himself directly in front of Aldric, dropping to his knees.
Aldric would have recoiled—if he had expected it.
But he hadn’t.
A gasp tore from his throat as Alexander’s hand suddenly closed around his neck, forcing his head upward.
The chains snapped taut, biting deeper into his wrists as their faces were suddenly only inches apart.
“I saw the way he looked at you,” Alexander whispered.
“Your worthless life means something to him. And you’re the only one who hasn’t understood that yet… peasant.”
His voice was quiet—and all the more threatening because of it.
Aldric’s eyes widened.
He swallowed hard against the grip tightening around his throat.
What did he mean?
“I will use you to get what I want,” Alexander continued. “Nothing and no one will stand in my way. And you…”
His fingers tightened further.
Pain flared through Aldric’s already swollen throat, sharp and merciless.
“…will help me do it.”
Aldric’s breath turned shallow as black spots began to gather at the edges of his vision.
“I already have a very specific idea of how to use you to finally make my cousin do what is expected of him.”
Aldric hadn’t even noticed when his gaze had lifted fully—directly into the prince’s blue eyes, which now stared back at him with cold calculation.
Then Alexander’s gaze slowly drifted downward—to Aldric’s throat.
To the exact spot where Vortan had bitten him only days before.
The wound was already healing. But a scar would remain.
And that mark drew a slow, satisfied smile from Alexander.
“Perhaps,” he murmured softly,
“I’ll simply… overwrite your conditioning a little.”
Hey everyone,
This is the beginning of Book 2, and from here on, things are about to get really exciting—dark, forbidden, and spicy once again!
I’m so excited to continue this journey with you and, of course, I’m looking forward to your likes and comments!
Lots of love <3
Luna
