Page 61 of Haunted Crowns
Avaristo’s face emerged, framed by shadow and silken excess. Reclining in a throne-like chair, his coat black silk trimmed with gold, Avaristo radiated unbothered arrogance—the kind only the truly dangerous could wear without effort. He swirled a glass of aged blood lazily in his hand, letting the silence stretch until he could feel their impatience like a grin across his face. Then he spoke.
“Ah…” A long, theatrical sigh. “Your Graces. What a privilege it is to see you again.”
His voice dripped false civility, with something sharpened underneath.
Yori’s jaw tightened. Raphael’s fingers twitched.
“You know why we have called,” Raphael said, every word edged and surgical. “This ends now.”
Avaristo chuckled, setting his glass down with casual disdain. “Oh, but of course. Princess Eris. What an unfortunate business, this whole affair.”
Stephan’s body tensed like a drawn bow.
Unfortunate.
The word made his blood curdle.
Avaristo leaned in, golden eyes gleaming with indulgent menace. “I regret the necessity of it all, truly. But the accusations were severe. Consorting with Lycans. Conspiring with insurgents. My hands were tied.” He spread them, mock innocence curling his lips. “I had no choice but to act.”
A tremor ran through the council: murmurs, outrage, the clatter of a goblet knocked too hard.
“Lies!”
“You had no right—”
“She is a Dragov!”
Stephan’s vision blurred at the edges. His nails gouged the wood beneath his hands.
And Avaristo? He sipped slowly, watching them unravel like theater.
“This farce ends now,” Raphael said, his voice cutting through the noise.
Avaristo lifted a brow, amused.
“You will release her,” Raphael continued. “If any crime is to be judged, it will be by our council, not yours. If you refuse,” his voice dipped cold, “then you will answer for it.”
The chamber froze.
Avaristo’s smile faltered. Not much, but enough. After a pause, he exhaled slowly.
“Your army is formidable,” he mused. “And I do so hate unnecessary bloodshed.” He leaned back, feigning diplomacy. “Perhaps you're right. Perhaps the Princess should be given the benefit of the doubt.”
Stephan didn’t breathe.
But Avaristo’s voice darkened. “She is, after all…young. And youth makes mistakes.”
Every muscle in Stephan’s body locked.
Avaristo continued, generous in his cruelty. “As a gesture of goodwill, I will release her, provided her father ensures she is…properly disciplined.”
A subtle flicker crossed Yori’s features, deadly as his lightly steepled hands pressed tighter.
Stephan surged forward; wood cracked beneath his grip as his chair scraped violently against stone. The screech echoed, sharp as a blade drawn. Before he could speak, Yori did.
“We will send an official envoy to retrieve her immediately,” he said. “Commander Toren Saverius will oversee the handover. A medical expert will accompany them to assess her condition.”
The command was absolute. Avaristo’s expression twitched. He clutched his chest in mock offense.
