A Dangerous Obsession
Chapter 39 - 38

Chapter 39: Chapter 38

Her departure left a pleasant silence in the throne room. I watched the heavy doors swing shut, the echo reverberating through the hall. It was strangely... satisfying, knowing that no matter how hard she tried to hold her own, she couldn’t escape me, not truly. She could leave the room, but my grip on her remained, tightening with every encounter.

I let the silence hang in the air a moment longer, savoring the faint trace of her defiance, like the last notes of a song I hadn’t realized I would want to hear. But soon, the emptiness slipped back in, filling the room and settling into that usual, hollow spot in my chest, familiar and irritating.

With a bored sigh, I shifted on my throne and rested my chin on my hand, glancing around the empty hall. The days felt endless, each one dragging into the next, a stretch of nothing that clawed at my patience. So many toys, all trying to win favor or play their little games, but none of them—no one—held my attention. None of them lingered... except her. She was different, stubborn in a way that made me want to push harder, to see just how much she could take before she finally shattered.

I couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in her mind. What was she thinking as she stood before me? What was going through her mind when she left? Was she fuming, replaying every word of our last encounter, every silent challenge I had thrown her way? Or perhaps, even just for a moment, did a sliver of doubt slip in? Did she wonder if she could ever truly escape me, even in her own mind?

If I could just find out what exactly was going through her head. Would it quench this aggravating thirst.

It was maddening, this itch to know. An obsession, maybe—a need to see beyond that carefully constructed mask she wore. I wanted to peel back every layer, to know what made her blood quicken, what made her falter. I wanted to be the only thought she carried, the only shadow in her world.

The hunger clawed deeper, a dark satisfaction laced with the thrill of control. But there was something else, something unsettling yet thrilling—a sense that this game was as much hers as it was mine. And I despised and craved it all the same.

"Sabastine," I called, my voice echoing through the room. Within seconds, he appeared, silent and obedient as always, stepping into the room and bowing his head.

"Yes, your majesty?" Sabastine’s tone was reverent, as though he were afraid his very voice might offend me.

I tilted my head, watching him with idle curiosity. He was one of the few that knew me well—perhaps too well. His insight was both a weapon and a liability, though he wielded it with an unspoken caution. "Tell me, what do you make of her?"

He paused, just a fraction, as though considering his words carefully. "She... endures, your majesty."

I leaned back, tasting the word on my tongue. "Endures." It was fitting, in a way. But endurance alone didn’t intrigue me; endurance could be broken, reshaped. It was resilience that fascinated me, that defiant spark she carried even when the odds were set against her.

Sabastine’s eyes shifted, almost too quickly to notice, and I smirked, knowing he had more to say. "Go on," I prompted, gesturing for him to continue. "Say whatever it is you’re holding back."

"If I may, your majesty," he began, lowering his voice just slightly, "she’s... different. Useful for unsettling... her." He didn’t say a name, but I knew exactly who he meant. It was a game we played—things understood but never spoken out loud. "But there’s a danger in letting her become too comfortable in that difference. In giving her the notion that she holds any... significance to you." He chose his words delicately, careful not to imply that she actually did.

A dark smile tugged at my lips. Sabastine always knew just how to phrase things, to keep his words ambiguous enough to be acceptable, yet bold enough to hint at truths most wouldn’t dare speak. "And your recommendation?" I asked, savoring the tension, the way he so carefully balanced the lines.

"Perhaps a subtle reminder of her role," he replied, bowing his head. "A reminder that, while she may think herself clever, she is ultimately... replaceable."

Replaceable. It was a practical answer, yet it didn’t sit right. Was she replaceable? She was different, yes, but not just for the way she defied me. There was something in her fire, something in the way she resisted that ordinary threats couldn’t replicate. Sabastine’s advice was sound, But there was a small part of me that hesitated. It would be such a shame if she broke too quickly. She was like rare glass—fragile, sure, but brilliant in the way she resisted, holding together under pressure.

I tapped my fingers on the arm of the throne, considering his words. "I will keep that in mind, Sabastine," I said finally, allowing my gaze to drift back to the now-empty hall. Sabastine bowed and slipped from the room, but my thoughts were still on her. The silence did settle once again, though this time, it felt less empty, tinged with anticipation.

Perhaps I would remind her, eventually. But for now, this game—our game—was only beginning, and I had no intention of cutting it short. There was an exquisite pleasure in letting her believe she had some measure of freedom, some semblance of power. And it would be all the more satisfying to strip it away piece by piece, leaving her with no choice but to realize that every path she took, every choice she made, led back to me.

I leaned back onto my throne, a smile ghosting on my lips, savoring the thrill that thrummed beneath the surface, waiting for the next spark, the next clash. Whatever this was—obsession, amusement, or something darker—I welcomed it. In this endless monotony, she was the one light, a flame I was determined to keep alive just long enough to burn.