Javier's POV
"Buenos días, Su Alteza la Reina Madre." (Good morning, Your Highness the Queen Mother")
The words slipped from Annaliese's tongue with stiff precision, the accent slightly off, as if rehearsed in front of a mirror.
Still, the effort was there.
A silly, saccharine smile tugged at her lips, though it faltered under my mother's cool gaze. She lowered herself into the chair with practiced care, eyes flitting toward the spread of meats, fruits, and bread laid before her.
Not a single glance spared in my direction.
The blatant disregard should have stoked my irritation, perhaps it did, buried somewhere beneath the layers of indifference I'd wrapped around myself. But as I observed her, the spark of annoyance dimmed, giving way to something far more... curious.
She seemed... well.
The flush on her pale cheeks stood in stark relief against the ghostly pallor of the night before. Her eyes, large, bright, deceptively innocent, gleamed beneath the flicker of the chandeliers, fixed intently upon the food like a predator sizing up its prey.
I had learned one thing about my queen in the brief months since our union, Annaliese adored eating.
No, adored was too delicate a word.
She devoured.
Her lips, pink and plush, worried between her teeth as if already imagining how they would wrap around each morsel.
Last night's fainting spell had left no trace upon her. The royal physician had called it nothing but a maiden's delicate constitution, a temporary fright at the sight of the severed head I had held before her.
I would have believed him, had Annaliese still been the meek, tremulous girl who had crossed the kingdom's borders a month ago.
But she was no longer that girl.
She had changed.
Beneath her demure appearance, a sharper edge glinted, one that had shown itself clearly . The fainting spell had been out of character. Why had she not swallowed her fear as she had so many times before?
Perhaps the little queen still harbored secrets beneath those billowing sleeves.
Mother's sharp gaze flicked toward me, expectant, but I said nothing, fingers tapping idly against the carved armrest.
When she turned back, Annaliese was already serving herself, reaching for the silver tongs without waiting for a servant's assistance.
My jaw tensed.
Of course, she couldn't behave herself. Not even before the reigning matriarch.
Mother cleared her throat, the sound soft, yet sharper than any blade.
"How do you fare this morning... child?"
The endearment was a velvet-clad barb.
I waited for Annaliese to cower, to fold like parchment beneath that cold, measuring gaze.
But she did not.
Bread halfway to her mouth, she blinked, utterly unruffled.
"I'm fine... Your Highness."
The words were muffled by the bite she chewed — shameless, unhurried.
A flicker crossed Mother's eyes — annoyance, swiftly smothered.
Interesting.
"You seem... well-rested."
There was steel beneath the pleasantry now.
Annaliese's chewing slowed. This time, she heard the tension.
"I slept like a babe."
The corner of my mouth twitched.
Mother's nostrils flared — the smallest crack in her marble composure.
She had no idea who she was dealing with, did she?
And neither did I.
Annaliese was either oblivious to the game she was playing... or she was playing it very well.
The silver knife scraped against porcelain as she carved into the roasted chicken. My stomach knotted.
I knew what she was about to do.
I'd warned her before.
Her fingers curled around the fork. Deliberate. Defiant.
Then she turned to Mother, eyes wide, voice sweet as poisoned honey.
"Mother."
My hand clenched harder around the armrest.
"Yes, child?"
The condescension thickened — a serpent coiling beneath velvet.
Annaliese's fork twirled lazily, the chicken dangling from its prongs.
"Do you like chicken?"
A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth — subtle, wicked.
Mother's lashes flicked in surprise, the smallest crack in her mask.
"Why—"
Annaliese hummed — as if considering the question herself — then popped the morsel into her mouth.
Her eyes fluttered shut, a low, breathy moan slipping from her lips as she chewed.
Heat coiled in my gut.
My mother stiffened, scandalized.
I should have been furious — should have scolded her for such brazen disrespect.
But all I could think about was wrapping my hand around her throat... pressing until that soft little moan turned into something sharper — a scream wrung from pain and pleasure alike.
The wood beneath my fingers splintered beneath my grip.
Mother's throat cleared once more, brittle composure snapping into place.
"That's... wonderful, child. I'm glad you enjoy the meal."
A lie.
She was not glad.
Not one bit.
And neither was I, because I was beginning to realize something dangerous.
My little wife had teeth.
And if I wasn't careful...
She just might sink them into me.
Annaliese turned her gaze to me, her eyes glinting beneath lowered lashes. Slowly, she chewed, then dragged the sauce-slicked fork between her lips, purpose ful, unhurried ,the movement far too sinful for the morning table.
Especially with my mother present.
It was improper. Blasphemous, even.
But the anger I should have felt never came.
Instead, a darker urge coiled in my chest , the desire to wrap my hand around her slender neck, to press until she whimpered beneath the weight of my touch. Not out of kindness, not out of lust... but to remind her who she belonged to.
After the meal, we were led through winding stone corridors to the Chamber of Blessings a sanctum untouched by time.
The room was cloaked in dimness, the air thick with the cloying scent of aged incense. Faded tapestries lined the wallsdepictions of kings and queens long buried beneath the marble crypts below.
Their woven faces stared down, hollow-eyed, as if bearing witness to every oath spoken within these walls.
Mother stood at the altar, the reigning matriarch, the living relic of our bloodline.
Her face was carved from stone, betraying nothing.
She extended her hands, hovering briefly over our clasped fingers. Her touch was cold, light as a ghost's breath, as she murmured the ancient blessing in the tongue of our forebears.
The words, once sacred, now felt like a hollow ritual.
A duty
Nothing more.
When the final word fell from her lips, she stepped back, her gaze lingering on Annaliese a second too long.
"May your union bring honor to the crown."
The words were spoken, but the chill beneath them was unmistakable.
A blessing... or a warning.
I did not care.
The ladies-in-waiting arrived, their heads bowed, to escort Annaliese to her chamber, preparing her for our journey back to the palace.
But as I turned to follow, Mother caught my arm, her nails digging through the fabric of my sleeve.
"Javier," she murmured, low enough that none would hear.
I did not meet her eyes.
"That woman should not be your only wife."
Her voice was smooth , silk stretched thin over steel.
I said nothing.
What was there to say?
She would never understand.
Annaliese was not the wife I wanted.
But she was the wife I had chosen.
And for that alone...
She could burn the whole kingdom to the ground if I ever grew careless enough to let her.
The foolish part?
The dark, twisted part of me almost wanted to watch her try.