A Game Of Chess With A Vampire
Chapter 313: How Could She...?

Chapter 313: How Could She...?

The old master breathed heavily, quite annoyed. "My daughter-in-law was murdered, and I know so! I brought you to find out what killed her, so do your job! I want a positive report next time!"

"But, my lord, I have—"

"You. May. Leave!" Old Master Lenort dangerously narrowed his eyes at him.

Goosebumps from fear immediately rose all over Edward’s body, and not at all willing to linger any longer in the office, he turned around and hurried off.

He arrived at his room and stepped inside, quickly slamming the door shut.

Why won’t he listen? He was at a complete loss for words. What more did his majesty want from him?

It wasn’t just him, but neither of the doctors could find out anything. Why was he the only one being pressured? Had he made a mistake by accepting to come to the royal mansion?

Arghhh! Edward groaned inwardly and hurried his face into his palms, completely bewildered.

Maybe if I try harder, I can find out more. His Majesty was right when he said Lady Natasha was definitely killed by someone. Perhaps I’m just not looking where I should be. He bit his lips.

What am I even thinking? I’m no detective or such. Gosh! He slapped his head in deep frustration and walked over to the bed to plop down on it.

He gazed at the ceiling and suddenly smiled at himself.

Of course, he had heard of the duel between Draven and Ryan. He could not help but be merry about it.

He was definitely sure that Ryan was stronger, after all, he was the oldest son of the great Delgaard family. Draven’s death was guaranteed, and that was for sure!

He smirked, running his fingers through his short blonde hair.

When you are gone, she will finally be mine and mine only! A deep breath exited from him, and he shut his eyes to take a nap.

——

Draven rubbed his gloved hands as he stared at the blank canvas he had set up on the easel. His face held a soft smile.

He’d had in mind to make a painting of Avelina, but he hadn’t had the time to do so. Thus, he had the intention to do it before it was evening the next day, which was the time he would be dueling with Ryan. This made his intention of spending the night at his estate obvious.

He unbuttoned his shirt, took it off, and dropped it on the couch. He wore his clean apron over his bare skin and sat down on the stool, opposite the canvas he’d set up.

Now what sort of painting of her would be most fitting? He pondered, ticking his forehead thoughtfully.

Of course, he would love to paint her smiling, as that was what he loved the most about her, but...at what time had he seen her smile the brightest?

Draven pinched between his brows, seriously racking through his memory. His face scrunched in deep thought, and as though having suddenly figured it out, he snapped his fingers.

Aha!

Yes, the day he had flown her through the clouds, that was the moment her smile burned the brightest. The way she had thrown her head back, laughed to her heart’s content, screamed, and smiled so widely with her hazel eyes sparkling. Yes! It was the best painting of her that he could possibly bring to life and no longer just visualize in his mind.

A smile emerged on his face, and he cracked his knuckles, ready to begin with his paintings. The day went by as he skillfully stroked his brushes through the canvas, slowly but steadily bringing the painting to life.

By the time he realized it, it had already clocked midnight, and that was finally when he came to a stop. He breathed, examining the painting. It was not yet halfway done, but he could glimpse it turning out just the way he wanted.

He kept the palette and brushes aside and stood up from the stool. He stretched his cramped muscles, his face slightly crumpling in discomfort, and took his apron off.

Draven strode toward the window and looked up to the sky, his brows wrinkling at the sight of the full moon. Yet again, he was reminded he would be going into heat—that is if he wasn’t already starting to. He’d been feeling his usual cold body becoming warm. That was the first sign to determine if one was going into heat or not.

A soft breath fled his nose, and he supported his chin with his hand while pulling his phone out of the pocket of his pants.

Should I call her? He was aware that there was a high chance Avelina might not answer, considering she was quite mad at him. But he wanted to speak to her—to hear her sweet, gentle voice.

He’d wished to have her in his embrace at that moment, but she was just too far from him. Not that if he wanted, he couldn’t go to her, but would she even allow him to be close to her? She’d been rejecting him, even his touch, which she’d never once minded before. She sometimes turned out to be the one even asking for his touch.

The thought of this forced him to look away in annoyance. It was actually better that they weren’t together because if they were, perhaps he might misbehave considering his heat, which was already beginning to show signs. He wouldn’t appreciate her triggering it.

Draven sighed inwardly and turned around, exiting the art room. He proceeded to his master bedroom in the estate and walked to the bathroom. He shut the door behind him and approached the bathtub, which was already filled per his request.

The maids he’d stationed on the estate were quite efficient and dutiful.

As he slipped his naked body into the cold tub, he subconsciously exhaled a relieved breath, shutting his eyes to relax. His wet hair sat afloat on the water, regardless of him dipping his head under the water and holding his breath.

This was something he’d loved to do whenever he made use of the tub. It’d been a habit right from when he was nothing but a child. One could say it’d often been the only way he calmed his mind.

I love you, Draven. All of you... He flicked his eyes open at the sudden recollection of those words.

"How could she..." Draven whispered to himself, left in nothing but perplexity.