Page 10 of Betraying the Beast

“Would that help?”

“Not in the slightest.” His smile was all teeth, yet somehow held genuine amusement. “But it might satisfy my vanity and other… appetites.”

Despite herself, Ceryn felt the corner of her mouth twitch upward. This was madness—exchanging barbs with the creature who held her life in his massive hands. Yet there was something almost comfortable in their verbal sparring. As if they had done this dance before.

“Tomorrow,” he said suddenly, “I will show you the orchard. You will learn about the silverfruit—what it is, what it does. What it costs.”

“Why would you share such secrets with me?”

Vael’Zhur’s expression grew serious again. “Because Aldaric seeks what he does not understand. What he cannot control. And that ignorance makes him more dangerous than you know.” He stepped back, creating distance between them. “Go now. Rest. Dawn comes early in this place.”

Ceryn hesitated, caught between the need to learn more and the instinct to retreat from the confusing emotions his presence stirred. “And my family? What of them?”

“Their fate remains tied to yours,” he said, his voice softening fractionally. “But know this, Ceryn Vale, whatever game Aldaric plays, whatever lies he has told you, the truth is far darker than you imagine.”

She nodded once, then turned to leave, feeling his gaze burning into her back as she walked to the door.

“Ceryn,” he called after her.

She paused, glancing back.

“The gown suits you,” he said quietly. “Green, like the forest you love so well.”

Something warm and unwelcome fluttered in her chest at his words. Without responding, she slipped through the doors and into the corridor where Elodia waited, a knowing smile playing on her translucent lips.

“Be careful, mortal,” the spectral woman whispered as they walked back toward Ceryn’s chamber. “The beast may be cursed, but it is not his heart you need fear.”

“What do you mean?”

Elodia’s form shimmered in the dim light. “Curses can be broken, but truth—once known—can never be unknown again.” She gestured to Ceryn’s door. “Sleep well, thief. Tomorrow you begin to learn why some secrets are better left buried.”

Alone in her chamber, Ceryn sank onto the edge of the canopied bed, her mind racing. She had come to discover the beast’s weakness, to find the source of his power for Aldaric. Instead, she found herself caught in a web far more complex than she had imagined.

And somewhere beneath the fear, beneath the desperation to save her family, something else had taken root. Something dangerous. Fascinating. Forbidden.

An attraction to the beast who held her captive. To the man trapped within the monster.

To Vael’Zhur.

Moonlight filtered through the tower window, casting silver patterns across the chamber floor. Vael’Zhur stood silently, gazing at the forest beyond the castle walls, his massive form reflected darkly in the ancient glass. In his clawed hand, he held a goblet of wine he had not touched since pouring it hours ago.

Ceryn Vale unsettled him.

Of all the emotions he had expected to feel when confronting the thief, confusion had not been among them. Rage, yes. Bloodlust, certainly—the beast within him always hungered for violence. But this disquiet was unfamiliar, an echo of humanity he thought long extinguished.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, my lord,” Elodia’s spectral form materialized beside him, her ghostly luminescence painting the stone walls with pale blue light.

“I play no games,” he growled, though the lie tasted bitter on his tongue. What else could he call this strange dance with the woman? This extension of her life when all others had forfeited theirs immediately upon trespass?

“No?” Elodia drifted closer, her insubstantial form passing partially through a chair. “Then why does the thief still breathe? Why did you agree to show her the orchard? Why did you gaze upon her as if she were?—“

“Enough.” The word emerged as a snarl that would have sent any living servant fleeing. Elodia merely arched an eyebrow, unperturbed by his display of temper after centuries of witnessing it.

“She is Aldaric’s pawn,” Vael’Zhur continued more quietly. “Through her, I might finally understand what game that serpent plays.”

“And that is the only reason you spare her?” Elodia’s voice carried a note of gentle mockery. “Your interest has nothing to do with how she reminds you of?—“

“I said enough!” He hurled the goblet against the wall, where it shattered in a spray of crystal and dark wine that resembled blood in the moonlight. “She reminds me of nothing and no one. The past is dead, as are all who dwelled in it.”

---