Princess's Revenge: Slave to the Soulbound King Chapter 112

Adelaide

Moonlight cascaded through the forest canopy, casting patterns across the narrow path we followed. I pulled my cloak tighter around myself as we successfully avoided the third separate patrol. What struck me as oddly unsettling was the complete absence of vampires. After their desperate ambush at the border, I had expected continued pursuit.

"Too quiet," I whispered to Thalia, who rode beside me, her face pale in the moonlight. "Don't you find it strange? Before, they were willing to risk everything to stop us. Now they've simply vanished."

Thalia squeezed my hand tightly. "Perhaps my father's holy light scattered them?"

"Perhaps," I replied, though unease continued to gnaw at me. "But it feels like the calm before a storm."

Draven nodded grimly. "Vampires never abandon their objectives easily. We must remain vigilant."

After what felt like an eternity, the imposing silhouette of Lycandor Keep finally materialized on the horizon, its massive stone towers standing like ancient sentinels against the star-scattered sky.

"Home at last," Vespera breathed, though his stance remained alert. "Remember, we go directly to the King. No one, especially Garrick's people, can know what we've brought back."

The castle guards appeared both surprised and wary at our approach, but upon recognizing Vespera and Draven, they immediately opened the gates and dispatched a runner to notify the Wolf King.

"His Majesty has been waiting," a royal guard informed us as he led us through the familiar corridors. "He commands your immediate presence in his private council chamber."

The heavy oak doors swung open, revealing Lycanthar silhouetted against the tall windows, moonlight painting silver streaks across his powerful frame. His eyes found mine, and relief flooded his features, tightening my chest with emotion.

"Adelaide." My name left his lips like a prayer answered.

I ran to him, and he caught me against his chest, lifting me from the ground as his embrace enveloped me like a shield against the world.

"I'm here," I assured him, pressing my face against the warm column of his throat. "I'm safe. We all made it back."

After the embrace, Lycanthar's attention turned to Draven, noticing his pale complexion.

"My old friend, you look like you've come back from the dead," Lycanthar said with concern. "What happened out there?"

Draven stepped forward, producing the small cloth pouch with trembling hands. "We found the truth, Your Majesty. The village massacres—they weren't random werewolf raids. They were orchestrated attacks designed to provoke war between our peoples."

Lycanthar's expression hardened as Draven poured the shadow dust into his palm. "Shadow dust," he identified grimly. "Vampire craft."

"Found at the massacre site in Greymill," Draven confirmed. "But that's not the worst of it, Your Majesty. The magical signature on this powder—it belongs to the Second Legion."

A deadly silence filled the chamber. I watched as understanding dawned in Lycanthar's eyes, followed quickly by a cold fury that made the air itself seem to thicken.

"Garrick," he said, the name falling like a death sentence.

Lycanthar moved to his desk and pulled the bell cord, and within moments, a guard appeared. "Summon all the tribal leaders and ministers immediately," he commanded. "Emergency council session. And send a detail to escort Commander Garrick here personally. He is not to be given any opportunity to... prepare himself."

The guard bowed and hurried away. Lycanthar turned back to us, his expression carved from stone.

I nodded, though my stomach churned with anticipation. We were finally approaching the moment when all the lies would be exposed and the war would be stopped.

---

Garrick

I stood in the middle of the council chamber, my jaw clenched as I watched Draven standing beside Lycanthar. So the bastard had survived after all. My carefully laid plans were unraveling, but I would not grovel like some common criminal.

"Garrick," Lycanthar's voice resonated through the hall with deadly authority. "Do you know why you have been summoned?"

I straightened my shoulders, meeting his gaze with deliberate defiance. "Your Majesty, I assume this concerns the border situation. My legion has been maintaining necessary vigilance against human aggression."

"Aggression?" The King's tone turned glacial. "Or perhaps these 'provocations' were orchestrated by your own hand?"

I scoffed, allowing a cruel smile to play at my lips. "Your Majesty speaks in riddles. I have done nothing but serve our people's interests."

Lycanthar produced a small pouch and poured out a small quantity of black, glittering powder. The werewolf advisors immediately recoiled, alarm flashing in their eyes.

"Shadow dust," the King announced coldly, his gaze locking onto mine. "Found at the site of a massacred human village. It bears the magical signature of the Second Legion—your legion, Garrick."

The accusation hung in the air like a blade, and I felt the weight of every gaze in the chamber.

"Very well," I declared, spreading my arms wide in a gesture of theatrical confession. "Yes, Your Majesty. I ordered the attacks on those villages. And I would do it again!"

Gasps of shock rippled through the chamber, but I pressed on, my voice rising with fervor.

"Three hundred years!" I bellowed, pointing an accusing finger at the assembled advisors. "For three centuries we have cowered in our territory while humans multiplied like vermin! They betrayed us, allied with vampires, nearly drove our kind to extinction! Every human death was justified!"

Lycanthar's face darkened like a storm cloud. "You admit to defying direct orders? To massacring innocents?"

"I admit to doing what needed to be done!" I shot back. "While you waste time with peace treaties and diplomacy, our enemies grow stronger. Those villages deserved their fate!"

The King rose slowly from his throne, his massive frame radiating barely contained fury. "Then you collaborated with the vampires to obtain shadow dust? Is that it, Garrick?"

The question struck like lightning. Vampire? This was given to me by Morgana. So Morgana was a vampire? The revelation hit me like a physical blow, but I couldn't show weakness now. Not when every eye in the chamber was watching for my reaction.

"Vampires?" I forced another laugh, though it sounded strained even to my own ears. "I purchased concealment supplies from black market traders. If they happened to be vampire-made, that speaks to the quality of their merchandise, nothing more."

Silence fell over the chamber. Draven's jaw worked in frustration. "The vampires tried to kill all witnesses—"

"How absurd," I rounded on him with snarling fury, "Vampires are sworn enemies of our kind; they would kill any werewolf on sight. Does that prove I collaborated with vampires?"

Lycanthar studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he spoke, his voice carrying the absolute authority of kingship.

"Your confessed actions are sufficient for judgment, Garrick. You have admitted to ordering attacks on human civilians in direct violation of my commands. You have deliberately sabotaged peace and endangered our kingdom."

He paused, then continued with devastating calm. "Effective immediately, all Second Legion forces are to stand down. There will be no invasion of human territory. Instead, I am ordering a full investigation into this conspiracy."

My eyes widened. "Your Majesty, you cannot—"

"Furthermore," Lycanthar continued, overriding my protest, "you will be sentenced to forty lashes for treason. You are stripped of your command and rank and will serve three years in the dungeon. Your werewolf abilities will be magically sealed for life."

The pronouncement hit me like a physical blow. Magical sealing? The thought of being stripped of my very essence, reduced to nothing more than a common human, sent waves of rage coursing through my veins.

"You dare seal my power?" I snarled, my voice trembling. "Three hundred years I have served this kingdom! Three hundred years I have bled for our people! And this is how you repay strength and loyalty?"

Lycanthar's expression remained unmoved. "Your strength was twisted into cruelty, Garrick. Your loyalty became treachery."

"Treachery?" The guards stepped forward, but I continued my tirade. "I am what werewolves are meant to be—apex predators, not cowering diplomats! You take my legion, my rank, my power itself. But you cannot take what I am inside. I am a predator among sheep, a wolf among dogs!"

As the guards dragged me from the chamber, I burned that image into my memory.

Let them strip away my power, lock me in their dungeons. I would emerge from this trial forged anew, and then they would learn what it truly meant to face a werewolf with nothing left to lose.