His Majesty & Daughters Of The Seven Sins

Chapter 08 • Wedding Crasher -1

"That is just dreadful! I can imagine what her majesty is going through at the moment! Losing her husband in such a disgusting manner in front of everyone at her party! Goodness!" Athalia shook her head, finishing the last touches on Princess Amber's shoes on the table. She padded up to Amber, bowing her head as she presented the princess's shoes on a royal pillow.

Amber received them, gently putting them on. "I agree, I was beyond frightened."

"Your highness, I suspect it to be the work of the witches. Possibly out of envy for the Werleria empire's success over the other kingdoms."

"I fear the same as well," Amber grimaced, looking down.

Athalia finally raised her head, seeing the princess's sad face. She smiled, "Do not overthink it, my princess. We should just be grateful that nothing else happened to you or any of the other guests. It is a good thing you had Lord Elliot by your side. I am sure he was more than enough to comfort you throughout your plight."

"He certainly was, all through the long journey; he did not leave me alone for a minute," she nodded subtly, making sure not to disturb the hands of her royal hair-makers that stood quietly, braiding beautiful pearls and beads between her strands.

Athalia smiled, "I am so happy for you, your highness. Not many princesses are blessed with a man who loves them and is more than suitable for their class."

Amber blushed lightly, "And I still cannot believe tomorrow got here so fast. In just a few hours when the sun rises–" she looked out the window, "–I will be walking down the aisle to wed the most powerful vampire lord in all the lands."

"Not to mention the most handsome," Athalia winked.

Amber giggled, "That is true. I cannot count how many times I got jealous with the eyes of women set on him at the party. I started feeling like they were going to snatch him from me."

Athalia only laughed, pushing her black, silky hair behind her ear. The maids continued to dress and plait Amber, as one of the odd traditions of the land of Sunndrom was having a bride sleep in a special wedding attire after having a long makeover, as it was a good omen for the wedding the next day.

After Amber's hair was done, Athalia then bowed, "Excuse me, your highness, I have to go look for Owen, he was supposed to be here by now."

"Oh, of course, sure!" Amber waved her off with a bright smile.

Athalia bowed once more and walked out of the room. Walking through the long corridor lit by the large burning torches on each side, Athalia heard small, fast feet running behind her.

She snapped her head around. "Owen!?"

Owen halted in front of her, panting heavily. "Ath– Athal– Athalia, I– I saw a royal!"

Athalia frowned, crossing her arms, "Of course you would see a royal, Owen. We are in their palace."

Owen took a deep breath, waving his arms to calm down. "No! Not a royal of Sunndrom. A royal from Werleria!"

Athalia's eyes instantly shot up. "Werleria!?"

It was very rare to see any of the royals of Werleria. The king, queen, and the queen's younger sister—the princess, were hardly ever seen by mere humans or peasants. They only ever left their castle on official business, and even at that, their carriages were always heavily guarded with an army, making it impossible for any ordinary peasant outside the castle to catch a glimpse of their faces.

They were only privileged to see paintings of their faces that seemed too beautiful to be real. The queen and princess of Werleria were tagged as the most beautiful female royals, believed to be goddesses in human form.

Athalia gasped lightly, "But– But that's impossible! Princess Amber said Lord Elliot didn't invite any of them to come. And she shares no personal alliance with any of them to have them come here."

Owen smiled widely, "I saw her! I saw Princess Lamia! She is more beautiful than all the paintings! Her carriage just came in through the back gates. I saw her step down with my own two eyes! She just walked into the palace a few moments ago."

Athalia smiled widely, "Where!?"

"Come! Let's go."

Athalia stepped forward, wanting to race forward—she immediately halted. "But... What if we offend her by approaching her? We are not even workers of the palace."

Owen chuckled, "Of course we are! Indirectly, of course. And do not worry, we won't approach her; we'll just take a small peek."

Athalia thought for a while, glancing around then back. She then nodded, "Okay, let us go!"

~

Athalia and Owen tiptoed to the door Owen pointed at. They hid behind the large door that was left slightly open. Their brows rose in shock at the person who stood in the room as well.

Lord Elliot.

Standing in front of him was none other than Princess Lamia Dranvon, dressed in a long oxblood royal robe, lined with white soft animal fur: while having two of her slave girls behind her. Her hair was packed into a neat large bun with golden chains and relics hanging off of it. She had on a beautiful smile, speaking to the lord.

"Oh, stop being uptight, my lord," she chuckled, taking a few steps towards the table where Elliot sat.

He had his back rested against his seat and his legs apart, with his finger resting on his temple as he rested his elbow on the armrest. They were seated in the private conference room where only royals were allowed.

Elliot smirked, "I am not, Lamia," her name rolled off his tongue with a certain tone of familiarity. Lamia stepped closer, pulling out a seat in front of him. She crossed her legs, resting back on her seat.

"Then why do I get the feeling that you do not want me here? Your old friend?"

"We both know what you always come around me for, Lamia. My wedding is tomorrow."

Lamia instantly hissed in pain, dramatically holding onto her chest. "Now that pricked the right spot, didn't it?"

Elliot didn't respond, only looking at the girl with a calm face. Lamia then added, "You know what? You are right. It is your wedding tomorrow and we should not waste the night talking about bygones of bygones."

She snapped her fingers in the air, having one of her slaves step forward with her head down, offering an expensive bottle of wine. Lamia picked up the bottle, popping it open and pouring it into the two glasses next to them.

"You may leave us," Lamia ordered, sending the two slave girls out of the room through the back door.

"Why don't we have a drink, huh? To old times?" Lamia lifted two of the glasses, offering one to the lord. With a suspicious look, he narrowed his eyes at her for a few moments.

His face then loosened.

He smiled gently, "Very well, Lamia," he stretched forward, receiving the glass from her hand. "After all, you were once my favorite."

Lamia grinned, "There goes another needle through my broken heart."

"Fortunately," he chuckled, pulling the glass to his lips. Lamia smiled back, taking a sip of hers.

Lamia fixed her lustful eyes on the lord as he gulped down his drink. She grinned, savoring her success, as her devious plans unfolded in the darkness of the palace.