His Discarded Queen

Chapter 16

[Tessa's POV]

The training room feels smaller with both of them in it.

Soren stands near the center, hands clasped behind his back in that familiar pose of controlled authority. Every line of his posture speaks of centuries of breeding, of knowing exactly how to hold himself to command a room. I used to find it attractive. Now it just reminds me of every time he stood like that while dismissing my opinions, my presence, my worth.

Sebastian leans against the far wall, arms crossed, silver eyes tracking every movement with that predatory awareness that never quite shuts off.

"Influence is about imposing your will over another's consciousness," Soren begins, slipping into instructor mode with practiced ease. "It requires focus, intent, and most importantly—understanding your target's mental defenses. You need to find the weak points in their psyche, the places where their will is most vulnerable to outside pressure."

I nod, trying to concentrate. Trying not to think about how many times I've heard that voice. How it used to whisper promises in the dark before it went cold. How many nights I fell asleep to it, then woke to find him gone.

"The technique itself is deceptively simple," Soren continues, pacing slowly. "You reach out with your consciousness, find the thread of their awareness, and pull. Gently at first—if you push too hard too fast, their mind will recognize the intrusion and shut you out. But with the right amount of pressure, applied at the right moment, you can command almost anything."

"Sounds like manipulation," Sebastian observes dryly.

"It is manipulation." Soren doesn't deny it. "All power is manipulation of some kind. The question is whether you're strong enough to wield it."

The words hang in the air, and I wonder if he realizes how they sound. How they've always sounded, coming from him. Are you strong enough? Are you worthy enough? Are you enough?

The answer was always no. Never enough for him.

"We'll start with something simple." Soren gestures toward Sebastian. "Perhaps our dear Enforcer would volunteer as your first subject?"

Sebastian's eyebrow rises. "Volunteer implies I have a choice."

"You always have a choice." There's something almost playful in Soren's tone, and I hate how natural it sounds. How easy. Like the three of us standing here together is normal instead of a nightmare I can't wake up from. "I'm simply suggesting you'd make an excellent test subject. Strong will. Trained resistance. Centuries of experience defending against mental intrusion. If she can influence you, she can influence anyone in that throne room."

"Flattery." Sebastian's lips curve slightly, and I catch the glint of amusement in his silver eyes. "How strategic of you."

"I thought so."

They're almost... friendly. The observation sits wrong in my chest, makes something twist uncomfortably. I don't want them to be friendly. I want clear lines, clear sides, clear definitions of who hurt me and who's helping me. This casual banter blurs everything.

"Fine," I cut in before this becomes a thing. "Let's just start."

Soren moves closer, and I force myself not to step back. Force myself to hold my ground even though every instinct is screaming to put distance between us.

"Close your eyes," he instructs. "Focus on Sebastian's presence. Not his physical body—his consciousness. The part of him that's aware, that's thinking, that's him. Can you feel it?"

I close my eyes. Try to focus. Try to find whatever thread Soren's talking about.

Nothing. Just darkness behind my eyelids and the sound of my own heartbeat.

"You're not concentrating," Soren observes quietly.

"I am concentrating."

"No. You're thinking about something else." A pause, weighted with things unsaid. "About the Severance, perhaps?"

The words hit like a physical blow. My eyes snap open, and my hands clench into fists at my sides.

"That's not—"

"Or maybe about the announcement." His voice is careful now, too careful. "The night I stood before the entire court and declared my intention to take another wife. The night I—" He stops himself. Swallows. "The night I failed you."

Heat floods through me. Anger and hurt tangled so tightly I can't separate them, can't breathe through them. "Don't."

"I'm trying to help you access that emotion. Influence requires powerful feeling behind it. Anger, fear, desperation—these are the forces that give your will teeth. And you have plenty of anger toward me. Use it."

"I said don't." My voice cracks, and I hate the sound of it. Hate the weakness. "You don't get to bring that up. You don't get to use my pain as a teaching tool."

"Tessa—"

"You made me sleep alone for years," I spit out, and the words taste like poison. "You announced another wife in front of everyone who'd ever mocked me, everyone who'd ever whispered that I wasn't enough. You let your family throw me out to die at sunrise. And now you want me to focus? You want me to channel my emotions like they're just tools for your lesson?"

Soren's expression shutters, but I catch the flash of pain before it disappears. "You're right. I apologize. That was insensitive. Let me try a different approach—"

"She doesn't need a different approach." Sebastian's voice cuts through the tension, sharp and cold. "She needs to stop making excuses and actually try."

I turn to stare at him. "Excuse me?"

"You're using your hurt as a shield." He pushes off the wall, silver eyes hard. "That's pathetic."

The word lands like a slap.

"I'm not—"

"You are." He's close now, and there's no warmth in his expression. No trace of the man who fed me his blood. "You think the vampires watching this Challenge will care about your tragic marriage? They'll only care if you're strong enough to lead."

Something hot and vicious rises in my chest. "You have no idea—"

"I watched you break a blood bond that should have killed you. Watched you survive sunrise. Stand in that throne room like you belonged there." His voice drops, goes deadly quiet. "And now you're going to let what he did define you? That's not the woman I've been training."

"Shut up," I breathe.

"Make me." He leans in closer, and I see the challenge in his eyes. The deliberate provocation. "Prove you're more than what he made you believe. Show me the vampire who performed a Severance in front of—"

"Shut. Up."

The command rips out of me with force I didn't know I had. It's not just words—it's will, raw and furious and desperate, slamming into Sebastian's consciousness like a battering ram. I feel it leave me, feel the pull of power draining from somewhere deep in my core, feel the exact moment it connects.

Sebastian's eyes go unfocused. Glossy. Empty of that sharp intelligence that's always present.

His mouth closes mid-word. He stands there, utterly still, utterly silent, like a puppet with its strings cut. Like a statue. Like nothing.

The silence that follows is deafening.

My heart pounds against my ribs. I stare at Sebastian's blank face, at the way he's just standing there not moving, not speaking, not being himself, and I can't process what I've done. Can't process that it worked.

"Tessa." Soren's voice breaks through the shock, hushed and reverent. "That was—" He moves closer, and there's something like wonder in his expression. His voice is filled with genuine admiration. Genuine pride.

And that's when the fury comes roaring back.

I turn on him, and whatever he sees in my face makes him take an involuntary step backward.

"Don't," I say, and my voice sounds strange even to my own ears. Distant. Dangerous. "Don't congratulate me. Don't tell me I did well. Don't stand there looking proud."