The girl was pretty, yes, and she had this alluring look of innocence in her eyes but she did not pose a threat to her. Or, did she?
She scoffed and looked over her shoulder, down the hallway from where she had come, her mind went back to the girl, the… Lyra, and the scene of Ryder holding her so close to himself. She had noticed the look of fear in the girl’s eyes, but she had been unable to tell what look Ryder had on his face at that time because he had his back towards her. She took in a deep breath and turned her head forward, no, the girl had nothing on her. She walked on.
Iris Nyx was Lord Ryder’s betrothed, his bride-to-be, his near equal; as she liked to think and his exact replica in character. She was as ruthless and as cold as he was and they took ultimate pleasure in exerting their dominance, but Iris loved to be the one to show off more.
At four hundred and ninety-eight years old, she was only sixteen years younger than he was and they had been betrothed to each other longer than that, but Ryder had never been a family guy, and maybe neither was Iris, so none of them pressured each other to seal the relationship, but then it was not news that they were together, the people already saw her as his woman.
Being the ruler of a vast empire like Astaroth was only easy if you were a man like Ryder, it would take his kind of charisma and persona to be able to control the empire, and although the title said “Lord of Astaroth”, the surrounding kingdoms gave him reverence. It was such a man that Iris wanted, and it was such a man that she got. It boosted her pride and ego, but she knew that one thing troubled him, it was the one thing that weighed heavy on the head of whoever wore the crown of Astaroth, and that was the inevitable event on the year of Osyron.
She approached quietly from behind and stood beside him on the balcony, taking in a deep breath and the awesome view of the land they ruled over. She smiled.