Chapter Twelve

Alexandra's POV

I ducked just in time as a fiery vase whizzed over my head, shattering against the wall. “Dave, easy!” I cautioned, my voice firm but laced with concern.

Dave's face twisted in rage, his eyes blazing like embers. “That bastard Gibson is pushing me to the edge!” he bellowed, slamming his fist onto the desk. The wood creaked under the impact, and I winced.

“We're not even brothers, not really,” he seethed, his words dripping with venom. “He's just Father's son, a constant reminder of his favoritism.”

Dave's anger boiled over, and he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The sound echoed through the hallway like a thunderclap, leaving me shaken.

I stood up and went to the chirping parrot as I poured it some food.  “I heard the wife is a human,” I said while feeding the parrot.

I, Alexandra

I seethe with rage, my heart burning with injustice. As the son of the King's concubine, I was born to power, but tradition had other plans. My twin brother, David, and I were destined for greatness, but fate had been cruel.

Our mother, a mysterious and alluring woman, had captured the King's attention, bearing us twins. Yet, the throne had been stolen from us by Gibson, a ruthless and cunning usurper. His mother, a manipulative human, had influenced the King's decisions, while our mother was cast aside, ignored, and unloved.

The memory of our mother's pain and rejection fueled my fury. I loathed Gibson, that heartless and power-hungry pretender, who dared to claim our rightful throne. His very existence was a mockery, a reminder of our father's favoritism towards his loyal subjects.

As I paced in my room, my anger simmered, a fire burning within me. My eyes blazed with determination, and my spirit stirred, eager to reclaim our birthright.

David and I were the true heirs, born of royal blood. We would not be denied our inheritance. The throne would be ours, no matter the cost.

The door flanked open, and my wife came in. As I gazed into Whitney's captivating eyes, my anger momentarily subsided, replaced by desire. “There's a gathering at the palace tonight,” she whispered, her voice husky with excitement. “An engagement celebration.”

I drew her closer, my fingers tracing the delicate curves of her neck. Her skin was silk beneath my touch, and I couldn't resist the urge to taste her. My lips brushed against her throat, and she gasped, her body shivering with anticipation.

“Alexander,” she breathed, her voice trembling.

I nipped at her skin, my hunger for her mingling with my rage against the palace. Whitney's fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me closer as I fed on her neck. Her moans were music to my ears, and I devoured her, my passion fueled by anger and desire.

LEAH POV

With calculated precision, I dispatched maids to deliver invitation letters across the seven realms, summoning dignitaries to the gathering. Attendance was mandatory; everyone had to witness the unveiling of Whitney, the chosen one. Tonight, our world would be exposed to her, shattering her innocence.

Gibson had advocated for secrecy, but concealment was futile. Our realm's dynamics would inevitably impact her. When the kings discovered her vulnerability, she'd become a pawn in their power struggles. Unaware, she'd be exploited.

But I wouldn't let that happen. Tonight, Whitney would learn the truth, and our world would change forever.

Kyla's POV

As night descended, I trembled with anticipation and nerves. My maid, Kira, had transformed me into a vision of elegance, and I couldn't help but gaze in awe at my reflection. The mirror revealed a radiant beauty, with intricate embroidery adorning my gown and jewels sparkling in my hair.

“The heavens will bow at your sight, Milady,” Kira whispered, her words painting a gentle smile on my lips. I flushed, feeling a mix of excitement and trepidation.

As I peeked down the hallway, my heart skipped a beat. The grand hall was abuzz with dignitaries, their laughter, and conversations mingling with the clinking of wine glasses. I took a deep breath, my nerves threatening to overwhelm me.

Kira sensed my anxiety and offered a reassuring touch. “You are magnificent, Milady. You can do this.”

I exhaled, releasing my tension. With newfound confidence, I straightened my shoulders and descended into the whirlwind of royalty.

As I glided through the opulent hallway, my maid Kira trailed discreetly behind, observing my every step. My heavy, velvet gown rustled with each movement, and delicate jewels sparkled in my hair, accentuating my elegance. A subtle blush adorned my cheeks, complemented by a hint of shimmering lip color.

My nerves threatened to overwhelm me, but I maintained a regal demeanor until I accidentally brushed against a towering figure. “Oh, I'm so sorry!” I exclaimed, my voice trembling.

The imposing man turned, his piercing eyes locking onto mine. “You're fine, and you look stunning,” he said, his deep voice dripping with sincerity. I flushed, my cheeks burning, as I cast my gaze downward, shyly.

“Nice meeting you, I'm Dean,” he offered, his broad smile revealing perfect teeth. We exchanged a gentle handshake and an unexpected jolt of electricity coursed through my veins. My hand felt weak as if the warmth of his touch had melted my very bones.

“Kyla,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

As Dean continued on his way, I turned to Kira, curiosity etched on my face. “Who is he?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Kira's knowing smile hinted at secrets untold. “The Royal Adviser of the Fourth Kingdom,” she revealed.

As I descended the stairs, my thoughts swirled in a vortex of anxiety. The sea of faces below seemed to stretch on forever, their eyes fixed on me like stars in a midnight sky. Whispers rippled through the crowd, a gentle hum that grew louder with each step.

My nerves frayed, and I clutched the folds of my gown, my fingers trembling. A passing tray caught my attention, and I grasped a wine glass, bringing it to my lips in a hasty gesture. The liquid burned my throat as I gulped it down, and I coughed, mortified.

A nearby voice murmured, “What a taste from the devil!” followed by a chorus of giggles. My face flushed, and I felt like fleeing.