“Your Majesty,” Easton began. “The girl that you danced with might be the—mmf!” Weston slapped a hand over his brother’s mouth.
“What did you just say?” the King mused. An unusual smile rested upon his full lips. His countenance was unbelievably calm. It was in his nature to maintain his composure. The world could be in chaos and he’d remain in control of his emotions.
“Nothing,” Weston sharply interrupted his younger brother. “I believe Easton drank something weird at the ball,” he hurriedly added on.
Easton gaped at the… what was it now? Tenth? Eleventh? Twentieth?! Insult of the night!
Easton pried his brother’s hand away. “I am perfectly sober, it’s you who’s drunk out of your mind,” he hissed at his twin.
Goodness, this was why people called him the better looking one. Easton never had his panties in a twist, or a brooding scowl on his face. Unlike the party popper, Weston, who was either frowning or glaring. There was no in between.
“I meant what I said, Your Majesty,” Easton reiterated.
Easton opened his mouth to say more, but a hand was slapped over it. He nearly threw up on the spot.
“He’s mentally insane, Your Majesty,” Weston gritted. “Let me take him to the doctor and prescribe some medicine for him.”
The King let out a small scoff. Dumb and dumber were arguing in front of him. Well, as dumb as the genius of the nation could ever get. Weston, precisely. Lord knows Easton miraculously fell asleep on all of his tests before he could’ve demonstrated his potential.
“I’m just saying, the girl you danced with—mmph!” Easton screamed into his older brother’s hand.
Easton had just scuffled his way out of the unbearable grip, only to be forced into it again.
“Will you quit it?” he hissed. He could disappear to the other side of the room in the blink of an eye, but the inhumane speed would be useless with Weston. Though not every Vampire had this privilege.
A Vampire’s power and strength dwindled the more their blood was mudded with impurity. There were not many Pure-Breds in the world who still possessed the magic of their ancestors. Well, as far back as their ancestors could be, considering Pure-Breds never died of natural causes.
“I’ll say it,” Weston snapped at his brother. That way, he could explain his brother’s outrageous thought process.
Sometimes, Weston wished his mother had stopped with him. Why did nature take its course and grant her a second son?
The King leisurely drank his wine from a crystal glass. Despite not having a sensitivity to light, he preferred for it to be off. With the ample windows in the room and the pale sheen of moonlight in the darkness, he did not need it, anyway.
The King enjoyed the solitude. It was comforting. The shadows were his domain and realm. He commanded the darkness with great ease, when other Pure-Bredsstruggled just to make shadows move. Perhaps that was why he was given the pesky title of King.
When the Vampires won the war a century ago, he was leading it. He joined the military out of pure boredom. Unexpectedly, he climbed the ranks, led the gruesome battle, and was awarded a prestigious throne.
“The town fool beside me,” Weston spat out, “believes the girl you were dancing with is the Golden Rose of the prophecy.”
The King sipped his wine. The sweetness of the ancient drink danced upon his tongue and he licked his fangs. It was not as sweet as his little fawn. What a darling thing she was.
“Though, he thinks any girl with striking blond hair and green eyes is the Golden Rose,” Weston reminded. “Like the last time he thought the new palace servant was the girl from the prophecy.”
“That’s because her name was literally Rosie and she matched the description!” Easton cried out.
Weston deeply sighed. Sometimes, even he believed nepotism gave Easton his position. How could His Majesty’s advisor be so… so… undoubtedly stupid?
“The prophecy is an utter lie,” Weston deadpanned. “Every decade, the overseer murmurs the same thing. The Golden Rose is supposed to show up on a full moon on the tenth month of the year. We’ve been trying for five decades now, and she still hasn’t shown up.”
Easton grumbled. “It’s not like His Majesty lacks the funds to host balls for the rest of eternity.”
Weston shot his brother a terrifying glower. His burgundy eyes glowed with malice. If he could turn back time and get rid of this little puppy, he would. But it had been a century and a half since this fool was born. It would be no use to get rid of his beloved brother, regardless of how daft he was.
“As much as I enjoy watching Dumb and Dumber argue in front of me, I will be entertaining myself with someone else,” the King finally drawled out.
His voice was low and smooth, like the liquor he favored. His presence was as intoxicating as alcohol. He was certain of his own charms.
“Your Majesty,” Weston stressed. “At the very least, please tell us where you’re going. You don’t need my protection, but I have a sworn duty to keep you safe.”
His Majesty rose from the golden chair with a red velvet seat. His hand languidly brushed against the edges of the desk. He fingered the thin gold lying on the flat surface.
“It’s just as you said,” the King nonchalantly spoke. “I will be fine.”
Weston opened his mouth to protest and clamped it shut. He had blinked once and the King was gone. A window was flung open. The wind howled, its claws tugging the muslin curtains that fluttered weakly against it.
“Gone like the wind,” Easton complimented.
“We can try catching up to him,” Weston suggested.
“You know that’s impossible. We may be Pure-Breds, but His Majesty excels in everything,” Easton refuted.
Easton wished he was lying. But it was true. His Majesty was a man who could give a lecture about theories of physics, stitch a wound, tame a beast, the list went on. And he’d do it in half the time as an actual expert.
There were only three Pure-Bredsin the entire land that could rival the Luxton Monarch. Everyone else were dull comparisons.
“And don’t even think about following any possible leads. He never leaves a trace behind,” Easton hurriedly mentioned.
Weston sighed again. At this rate, his hair was going to turn white. Despite his full head of ink black hair and an inability to age, it would be impossible to naturally go grey. He stressed himself out too much. For no apparent reason and it would be entirely his fault.
“Now, we have to go and finalize tomorrow’s preparations,” Easton announced. He was finally being the responsible one. It was only fun to jest in His Majesty’s presence.
“Ugh, I’ll leave the frills and fun to your discretion,” Weston retorted.
Weston waved his hand and headed for the door. Decorations and miscellaneous tasks like that was not his speciality. It was Easton’s hobby, since he possessed the patience of a saint. It was difficult to believe they came out of the same womb.
If it wasn’t for their resembling features, people would think they were simply close friends. Regardless of being born less than ten minutes apart, Weston and Easton did not have identical personalities. The former had the charm of a strict instructor and the latter had the charisma of a playful schoolmate.
“Just as His Majesty said,” Weston grunted, “different, like day and night.”
Weston wished he knew where the King was day and night. Trying to find the sneaky man was like trying to find blooming flowers in winter. It was a task he did not bother attempting anymore.
This particular night, he would learn to regret his actions.