Chapter 2 THE KING OF NOTHING

CHAPTER TWO: The King of Nothing

The silence inside the palace pressed in like a second skin.

Seraphina followed the man-her husband-through a corridor of shadow and stone, her footsteps echoing behind his. No words. No introductions. Just the rhythmic thud of her heart and the faint rustle of her gown trailing over ancient floor.

She watched him as he moved.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. His cloak billowed with each step, made of something darker than black, like smoke woven with secrets. His face was mostly obscured-half-hooded, half-turned away. But she caught flashes of a strong jaw, sharp cheekbones, a mouth set in a line too still to be natural.

He didn't glance back. Not once.

So be it.

If he wanted to play the role of silent, brooding monster, she could be a queen of ice.

The corridor opened into a vast hall lit by pale, floating orbs-no torches, no flames. The light here felt strange. Not warm. Not alive. It cast no shadows.

Seraphina stopped at the edge of the room.

She sensed it immediately.

The palace wasn't empty.

It was watching her.

The walls breathed faintly. The stones whispered in a tongue she couldn't understand. A breeze stirred her hair though no windows were open.

The King stopped beside a throne made of bone and obsidian. His throne.

Still, he didn't speak.

"Well," Seraphina said, letting a touch of her temper show, "This is a fine beginning to a marriage."

His head tilted, just slightly.

Her fingers curled into her skirts. "You've stolen me from my home, brought me across cursed borders, into a castle that breathes-and you don't even have the courtesy to speak?"

A pause.

Then, his voice.

Low. Rough. Like gravel being pulled from deep earth.

"I did not steal you, Princess."

She flinched. Just a little. Not at the sound of him-but at the way it echoed from the walls and whispered back to her. Like the palace remembered the words before he spoke them.

"You came willingly," he added, turning slowly to face her fully.

The hood fell back.

And Seraphina forgot how to breathe.

He was beautiful in a way that didn't feel human. Not soft. Not warm. Sharp. Impossibly symmetrical. His skin was pale, like stone left beneath moonlight, and his eyes-red-gold, like embers half-buried in ash-burned with something old. Something restrained.

Something hungry.

She met his gaze without blinking. "A sword at your back isn't the same as an open door."

One corner of his mouth twitched.

Not a smile.

A flicker.

"I was told you would be... difficult."

"And you were told correctly."

They stared at each other.

He stepped closer.

She didn't move.

Not even as the temperature dropped, not even as the strange light flickered around them like gasping breath.

"You don't want to be here," he said.

"No."

"You would rather be back in Aeloria, dancing with mortal suitors. Courting smiles and titles."

"No."

A pause.

His brow lifted-barely.

She stepped forward now, just one pace, enough to let him know she wasn't afraid. "I would rather be anywhere but under the command of a man who hides behind cloaks and curses."

He studied her for a long, long moment.

Then: "I am not what you think."

"No," she said softly. "You never are. Men like you."

Another silence.

The air between them felt like it would catch fire.

He turned away first.

"Your chambers are this way."

She hesitated.

Then followed.

Not because she trusted him.

But because a queen doesn't retreat. Even when the darkness feels like it's reaching for her heels.