Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate
Chapter 176: A Dangerous Lie

Chapter 176: A Dangerous Lie

Emmanuelle’s heart pounded as fear ran down her spine. The man standing before her was devastatingly beautiful, yet his presence held a power that made her tremble.

How could someone so exquisite be so terrifying? The mix of fear and awe left her breathless, torn between dread and a strange exhilaration.

If she had to die, perhaps there was some twisted beauty in his face being the last thing she saw.

She shook the thought away.

"Is that a no?" Sir Roderick’s voice sliced through her momentary daze. "You’re saying you had no part in the dark magic?"

It was a dangerous lie. If she hadn’t been involved, how could she even know of its existence? Most would have been bewildered by the mere mention of such sorcery.

But Emmanuelle hadn’t flinched, hadn’t shown a flicker of confusion. Her calm was unnerving.

"I know nothing about dark magic," she replied, her voice emotionless, cold—like reciting facts from a book, detached and clinical.

Across the room, Emperor Kaan reclined in his chair, eyes narrowing as he studied her. His gaze lingered. "So whoever performed dark magic within these palace walls did so... alone?" His eyebrow arched in a slow, calculated challenge.

His words hung in the air.

Dark magic wasn’t the kind of power wielded solo—not by ordinary vampires, at least. It was too volatile, too deadly. Anyone attempting it without assistance would surely have died, the spell recoiling like a cursed boomerang.

"I don’t know," Emmanuelle replied, her voice as flat and detached as before.

The transformation was unsettling. Just moments ago, she had been the picture of a servant captivated by Emperor Kaan’s beauty, but now she was as cold and unyielding as stone. It was as if someone had cast a spell over her.

A spell!

Emperor Kaan’s eyes were filled with suspicion. Could her sudden change be the result of an enchantment? The idea took root quickly. With a wave of his hand, he ordered Sir Roderick to fetch a truth potion.

Obtaining one would be no simple task. Truth potions, much like dark magic, were outlawed. Anything derived from human practices was forbidden to the proud vampires, and truth potions—crafted by witches and wizards—were unmistakably human in origin.

But what the emperor commanded, he would have. No matter the cost.

As he awaited the truth potion, Emperor Kaan’s sharp gaze remained fixed on the woman kneeling before him. "Do you still work here?" he asked in a calm voice.

Sir Roderick blinked in confusion, turning toward the emperor. "Your Majesty, she’s—"

With a swift gesture, Emperor Kaan silenced him. "Answer me," he commanded.

Emmanuelle’s eyes, which had regained their shimmer of anxiety and fascination, flickered nervously. "No, Your Majesty. I quit several years ago." Her voice wavered.

"Did you work for the late Queen Isodle?"

Sir Roderick’s brow furrowed. He couldn’t grasp what the emperor was trying to achieve. Every time he moved to provide an answer, Emperor Kaan cut him off.

The questions he was asking Emmanuelle were all things he already knew. Why was he pressing her for answers he had in hand?

"Yes, Your Majesty," Emmanuelle replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Tell me about it. Everything," Emperor Kaan urged, but this time his voice softened, almost coaxing.

There was something deliberate in his approach—a method to his questioning that Sir Roderick couldn’t quite fathom. Why ask her to relive what he already knew?

But then, as Emmanuelle’s shoulders stiffened and her breath hitched, it became clear. He wasn’t asking for information—he was testing her.

"I was only forty when I moved into the palace," Emmanuelle began, her voice steady and brighter. "As a commoner, I never would have been allowed to work here, but I had served the late Queen Isodle since she was a child. She brought me with her when she married."

Her gaze drifted to the floor, as if she were going through memories. A faint smile tugged at the corners of her lips, a brief flicker of warmth as she recalled the young Lady Isodle—the woman she had once believed to be the most beautiful vampire on earth.

So far, nothing seemed unusual.

Emmanuelle continued, detailing the late queen’s daily routine. But then, she hesitated, her voice faltering.

"She liked to move about—a restless spirit. No one could ever get her to sit still," she said with a soft chuckle. "That’s why she was always so tired before bed. I used to warn her to slow down, to save her strength for His Majesty when he came to her chambers, but—"

Her voice caught. She swallowed hard, stealing quick glances at Emperor Kaan and Sir Roderick before abruptly changing course.

"She always longed for a child, but that blessing never came," Emmanuelle said, her voice softening as her eyes grew glassy with unshed tears.

For a moment, her sorrow seemed to overtake her, but then she straightened, her expression hardening with resolve.

"I believe I did everything in my power to care for her," she continued, her tone firm. "Right up until the day she closed her eyes for the last time."

Emperor Kaan pieced together fragments of information.

Throughout Emmanuelle’s years at the palace, Lady Maris had been present as well. For someone who had served and loved the late Queen Isodle so fiercely, it was odd that Emmanuelle showed no trace of contempt toward the king’s mistress.

Lady Maris had stolen King Valentin’s affection, monopolizing his attention and driving him away from his rightful wife.

"I see," Emperor Kaan said slowly, his eyes narrowing. Then, without warning, he shifted the conversation. "And what of the dark magic? Was it born from your loyalty to the late queen—or were you seeking something for yourself?"

The effect was immediate. Terror flared in Emmanuelle’s eyes, her calm shattered. She shook her head violently, her voice cracking as she pleaded, "Please, My Lord, have mercy. Spare me, I beg you."

Suddenly, she dropped to the floor, banging her forehead against the cold stone in a desperate display of submission. Sir Roderick quickly intervened, slipping his hand beneath her forehead to lift her tear-streaked face.

"Calm down," he said in what he thought was a reassuring tone. "We won’t harm you, as long as you speak the truth. Only the truth."

A knock at the door interrupted the moment. A knight stepped in, carrying a small vial filled with thick, purple liquid. Sir Roderick took it, the glass cool in his palm. He uncorked the vial and brought it to Emmanuelle’s lips.

Her reaction was instant and frantic. She recoiled, eyes wide with terror. "No! You don’t understand. Please, don’t make me drink this. I can’t... please..."

Her desperation hung heavy in the room, and for a brief moment, the fear in her eyes seemed to speak of a truth far darker than any potion could reveal.