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Tyrant Luciano Zarkov The alarm shattered the silence with the sound of screaming men. A mixture of battle cries, agonized howls, and clashing steel ripped through the room with enough violence to wake the dead. Beside me, Katherine jolted upright. “What was that?” she yelped, clutching the blanket to her chest as her eyes flew wildly around the dark room. Without haste, I reached toward the nightstand and silenced the device. The screaming stopped. Silence returned. I sat up. “An alarm.” She turned to stare at me. Slowly. Blankly. The expression suggested she was deeply reconsidering every unfortunate decision that had led her into my bed. “An alarm?” she repeated. “Why does your alarm sound like a battlefield m******e?” I swung my legs over the side of the bed. “Because it is effective.” She made a small choking noise. I stood, rolling the stiffness from my shoulders, and crossed toward the wardrobe. Behind me came the rustle of blankets and one deeply offended groan. “What time is it?” she demanded. “Four.” There was a beat of absolute silence. Then— “FOUR?” she shrieked. “Luciano, no sane human being wakes up at four in the morning!” I buttoned the first cuff of my shirt. “I do.” “That is not reassuring!” I fastened the second. She continued staring at me as though I had personally betrayed civilization. “How do you even function?” “Efficiently.” Another strangled sound. I ignored it and walked toward the brass panel built into the wall beside the door. One press. A low chime rang through the eastern wing. Katherine narrowed her eyes. “What was that?” “A summons.” “For who?” “The staff.” She blinked. “At four?” “Yes.” “That feels illegal.” I glanced at her. “Many things I do feel illegal to civilians.” She opened her mouth. Closed it. Then pointed at me accusingly from inside the blankets. “You are a menace.” “I’m a ruler.” “Same thing.” Not inaccurate. I opened the wardrobe and removed a black pressed shirt, dark trousers, and my morning coat. Behind me she made another dramatic noise and flopped backward onto the pillows. “I refuse,” she announced to the ceiling. I slid one arm into the shirt. “You refuse what?” “This.” She waved vaguely at the darkness outside the windows. “Morning tyranny. Night still exists.” “You are attending my welcome ceremony this evening.” A pause. Then a suspicious, muffled: “So?” I turned. Katherine had cocooned herself almost entirely beneath the blanket except for a pair of glaring hazel eyes and several strands of unruly hair. I looked at her for a long moment. Then answered calmly. “So you will not be presented before governors, nobles, military commanders, and half this state looking like a distressed woodland creature.” Her blanket dropped. Her jaw dropped with it. “A WHAT?” A knock sounded. Right on time. I crossed to the door and opened it. Six maids stood lined in perfect silence, heads lowered. Two held garment boxes. One balanced silver breakfast trays. One carried folded towels with steam still curling from them. Another wheeled a rack of cosmetics and skin products. The last held a leather folder and pen, ready for instructions. Katherine made a faint dying sound from the bed. I stepped aside. “Begin.” The maids swept inside immediately. Katherine sat frozen as they approached like a highly organized invasion force. She looked from them. To me. Back to them. “Luciano.” “Yes.” “Why are there so many?” “Because one maid would be inefficient.” “That is not what I meant!” I ignored her and addressed the head maid. “Her bath is to be drawn immediately. Rose oil, not lavender.” The maid scribbled quickly. Katherine blinked. “How do you know lavender makes me sleepy?” I continued as though she had not spoken. “Breakfast first. Protein, fruit, tea. No coffee.” Katherine pointed. “I like coffee.” “She becomes louder when caffeinated.” “LUCIANO.” “Scar ointment after bathing. The physicians’ silver compound, twice over the abdominal incision.” “Yes, Your Majesty.” “Hair will be handled by someone competent.” I gave Katherine’s morning nest one brief glance. “This is not negotiable.” Katherine gasped in betrayal. “My hair is fine!” No one agreed. I checked my watch. “Wardrobe fitting begins at six. Etiquette revision at seven. Walking posture and title rehearsal at eight. Jewelry remains minimal.” The youngest maid hesitated. “Minimal, Your Majesty?” “Yes. I am presenting a Luna, not a decorated candelabra.” The poor girl nearly dropped her pen. Katherine slowly pushed herself upright. “This is insane.” I turned to her. “No.” I adjusted my cufflinks. “This is preparation.” She stared at me in speechless horror as two maids carefully approached the bed. One offered tea. The other reached for the blanket. Katherine snatched it tighter. “No. Absolutely not. I can bathe myself.” “You can,” I agreed. “Wonderful.” “But you won’t.” Her eyes widened. “What?” I moved closer until I stood directly beside the bed, looking down at her. Storm-gray met hazel. Calm met outrage. “This evening,” I said evenly, “every person who ever looked down on you will be in that hall.” She stilled. The maids stopped moving. Even the room seemed to quiet. I leaned down slightly. “And I intend to make each one regret possessing eyesight.” Her lips parted. Some of the fight left her expression, replaced by something quieter. Warmer. Dangerous. I straightened. “Therefore,” I said, voice returning to its usual calm finality, “you will cooperate.” Silence. Then Katherine looked at the maids. Looked back at me. And sighed the sigh of a woman realizing resistance was pointless. “This relationship feels heavily one-sided.” “It is.” She narrowed her eyes. “I’m going to complain about you.” “You already do.” One of the maids accidentally snorted. The room froze. I looked over. She nearly fainted. Katherine, however— Katherine laughed. Bright. Warm. Unrestrained. And against all reason, I found myself pausing for half a second simply to listen to it. Unfortunate. Very unfortunate. I cleared my throat. “Get her out of bed.” “Yes, Your Majesty,” the maids chorused. As they descended on her, Katherine reached one hand dramatically toward me. “Lucianoooo! Betrayal!” I turned toward the door. “Do not attempt escape,” I said without looking back. “The gates are guarded and I dislike cardio before noon.” Her outraged gasp followed me into the hallway. I allowed myself the smallest smirk. This was going to be a very long day. _ _ It was now past eight in the evening. A very long day. Meetings. Military reports. Provincial finance disputes. Security briefings. A governor with the intelligence of damp bread. By the time I returned to the east wing, I had exhausted the last of my patience before sunset. I stood in the grand hallway now, gloved hands folded behind my back, military dress uniform fitted sharply across my shoulders. Black medals. Silver insignia. Combat boots polished enough to blind lesser men. Percy lingered several feet away in respectful silence. The house was unusually still. Too still. Which meant only one thing. The maids were still working. I glanced once toward the staircase. And waited. A minute later— Footsteps. Soft. Measured. Not rushed. Every head in the hallway turned. Katherine appeared at the top of the stairs. And for the first time in eight hundred years, I forgot the existence of language. She descended slowly, one hand gliding along the railing. Black silk wrapped around her body like liquid night, fitted through the waist and falling in a controlled sweep to the floor. The neckline was elegant rather than vulgar, exposing the clean line of her collarbone and the pale column of her throat. Her hair—usually unruly, loud, and vaguely threatening in the mornings—had been gathered into soft waves that spilled over one shoulder. Minimal diamonds. No excess. Exactly as instructed. But none of that was what held me. It was her posture. Head lifted. Shoulders back. No apology in her step. No shrinking. No trace of the broken woman they had tried to bleed to death in a hospital room. She looked… Like consequence. Katherine stopped on the final stair. Smiled. Hazel eyes bright with entirely too much satisfaction. “Well?” she asked, spreading her arms slightly. “How do I look?” I stared. Once. Twice. Then adjusted one glove. “Acceptable.” Percy made a choking noise. Katherine’s mouth fell open. “Acceptable?” she repeated. “That is all?” “Yes.” She narrowed her eyes and marched the final few steps toward me. “I have been tortured by seven women since four in the morning.” “Six.” “Traitorous correction. I have pins in places no human being should have pins, Luciano.” I remained unmoved. “And?” “And I expected at least one dramatic gasp.” I looked her over once more—slowly this time, deliberately enough to make her swallow. Then leaned slightly closer. “You look,” I said quietly, “sufficiently capable of ruining someone’s evening.” Her lips twitched. Then she smiled. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “You are such an annoying old grumpy man.” “Yet here you are.” “Unfortunately.” She slipped her hand into the crook of my arm. Naturally. Like she had done it all her life. My body recognized the contact instantly. Warm. Correct. Mine. I looked down once at her fingers curled possessively around my sleeve. Then back ahead. “Shall we?” She grinned. “Let’s go terrify people.” --- The drive to the venue was quiet. Not because Katherine was quiet. That would have been a historical event. No—she talked the entire journey. About the maids. About shoes. About whether nobles judged posture. About whether Sebastian might faint if he saw her. That one earned a glance from me. “You are thinking about him?” She wrinkled her nose immediately. “Ew. No. I’m thinking about his face when he realizes I upgraded.” I looked out the window to hide the smirk threatening my mouth. Unfortunate woman. Dangerously amusing. The black state vehicle rolled to a smooth stop beneath the floodlit entrance of Blackthorn Hall. Music drifted faintly from inside. Dozens of luxury cars lined the circular drive. Provincial guards stood at immediate attention. The second they saw my crest, the massive iron gates of the venue were thrown open. Lines of armed men snapped into formation. Doors. Open. Percy moved first, but I had already stepped out. Cold evening air hit my face. Camera flashes burst somewhere deeper inside the estate. Whispers started immediately. “The Tyrant…” “He’s here…” I turned. Extended one gloved hand toward the car. Katherine looked up at me from inside. For half a second there was nervousness. I saw it. Only I saw it. So I lowered my voice. “Remember what I said.” She inhaled. Straightened. Then placed her hand in mine. Small. Soft. Steady enough. I helped her out. The collective silence that followed was almost theatrical. Good. Let them look. Katherine slid naturally to my side, fingers tightening around my arm. Governor Henry hurried down the steps, sweating despite the cold. “Your Majesty,” he bowed quickly. “Welcome, welcome. The hall is honored by your presence.” I gave one curt nod. His eyes moved to Katherine. Paused. Confusion flickered. But before he could ask, I was already moving. We entered the grand hall. Crystal chandeliers. Music. Nobles. Governors. Military officers. Pack elites. Conversation hummed— then stopped. Entirely. The first gasp came from the left. A woman near the champagne tower dropped her glass. It shattered. Her hand flew to her mouth. “No…” Another voice. “Is that—?” “Impossible…” I felt Katherine lean slightly closer to me, still smiling, unaware of the full storm beginning around her. Interesting. Very interesting. A group of provincial elders approached first, bowing quickly. “Good evening, Tyrant Luciano.” Their eyes shifted. Polite confusion. “Good evening… uhm, you must be—” This was the moment. I felt Katherine straighten beside me. Felt the training settle into her bones. Her smile softened. Controlled. Royal. She lifted her chin. “Katherine Zarkov,” she said smoothly. A pause. Then the blade: “Luna to Tyrant Luciano Zarkov.” Her hazel eyes swept over them. “Good evening, gentlemen.” Silence detonated.