Princess's Revenge: Slave to the Soulbound King Chapter 13

Adelaide

It had been two days since the chaos in the hall, and someone was clearly making my life difficult. I'd been dragged from my quarters at dawn and assigned the most grueling task available—clearing fallen leaves from the castle's sprawling rear garden.

The morning sun filtered through ancient oak branches as I knelt among the endless piles of debris, my hands raw and aching from hours of labor. While I gathered each pile with deliberate care, my true focus lay elsewhere—memorizing guard patrol routes, counting minutes between their passes, cataloging every detail that might prove useful for intelligence or escape.

"Excuse me."

The soft voice startled me from my mental mapping. I looked up to find a young woman in a modest gray dress approaching, her hands clasped nervously before her. She wore the simple attire of a house servant, but something in her demeanor—the way her eyes darted about, the slight tremor in her voice—set my instincts on edge.

"Yes?" I replied cautiously, setting down my garden tool.

"Commander Draven requests your immediate presence," she said, her words coming in a rushed tumble. "It's about your friend—the injured one. There's been... complications with her treatment."

My blood ran cold. Thalia. After everything she'd endured, after the beatings and broken bones...

"What kind of complications?" I demanded, scrambling to my feet. "Is she alright?"

The servant's face grew more anxious, her fingers twisting together. "The Commander didn't give me details, only that you must come at once. He said—" she lowered her voice conspiratorially, "—he said she's been asking for you, crying out your name in her fever. The healers think... they think she might not make it through the day without seeing you."

The words hit me like physical blows. Thalia, dying? Calling for me? The thought of losing her, especially after I'd already failed to protect her from Garrick's violence, made my chest tighten with panic.

"Where is he waiting?" I asked, already moving toward her.

"The eastern lodge, where the healers have set up a private treatment room," she replied quickly, gesturing toward the tree line. "Away from the castle, so the other slaves won't see if..." she trailed off meaningfully.

If Thalia died. The unspoken words hung heavy between us.

All rational thought fled my mind. "Lead the way," I said breathlessly.

We walked quickly through the castle's outer courtyard, past the main gates, and onto a winding path that led into the surrounding woodlands. The servant set a brisk pace, occasionally glancing back with what I interpreted as concern for our speed.

With each step away from the fortress, part of my mind began to whisper warnings I was too panicked to heed. The trees grew denser, their canopy blocking more and more sunlight until we walked in an almost twilight gloom.

"This seems very far from the castle for a treatment facility," I said, my voice carefully controlled despite the alarm bells finally beginning to ring in my mind. "Wouldn't the healers want to be closer to their supplies?"

The servant's shoulders visibly stiffened, but she didn't respond. Her pace remained steady, mechanical, as if she were following memorized instructions rather than navigating familiar terrain.

I stopped walking. "Answer me. Where exactly are you taking me? And why won't you tell me more about Thalia's condition?"

She turned, and for a moment I saw fear flicker in her eyes—not fear of me, but fear of something else entirely. Guilt and terror warred across her features before she quickly looked away.

"Please," she whispered, "just keep walking. She's waiting for you."

That was all the confirmation I needed. The lie was crumbling, and I'd been a fool to believe it. My heart hammering against my ribs, I spun around to flee back toward the castle—and found my path blocked.

Three large men emerged from behind the massive tree trunks, their positions carefully coordinated to form a loose circle around me. They wore the rough clothing of castle servants, but their eyes held a predatory gleam that no honest worker would possess.

"Going somewhere, little bird?" The largest of them stepped forward, his scarred face twisted in an unpleasant smile. "We have specific instructions regarding you."

I forced myself to stand straight despite the fear coursing through my veins. "Instructions from whom? What do you want with me?"

The man exchanged glances with his companions, and their smiles grew more menacing. "Seems you've made some powerful enemies, sweetheart. Someone very important wants you removed from the picture."

A shorter, stockier man licked his lips as his gaze traveled up and down my body with disgusting intent. "Shame to waste such a pretty thing, though. Long walk ahead of us... might as well enjoy ourselves first."

The others chuckled in agreement, and I felt ice form in my stomach. These weren't just kidnappers—they were predators, and I was completely at their mercy.

"Stay back," I warned, though my voice betrayed my terror. I grabbed the gardening tool I'd been carrying, brandishing it like a weapon. "I'll scream. The guards will hear—"

"Scream all you want," the leader sneered, advancing slowly. "No one's coming for you out here."

I did scream then, as loudly as I could, the sound echoing through the forest. But even as I called for help, I knew they were right—we were too far from the castle, too deep in the woods.

The stocky man lunged for me, and I swung the tool with all my strength, catching him in the ribs. He grunted and staggered, but quickly recovered, his face now dark with anger.

"Little bitch wants to fight," he snarled. "Make this more fun."

They rushed me then, and I fought with desperate fury, kicking and clawing and struggling against their grasping hands. But they were too strong, too many. Rough fingers grabbed my arms, my hair, my dress, pulling me down to the forest floor as I continued to scream and thrash.

Then, in the midst of my terror and rage, something else began to unfold within me.

Heat. Starting low in my belly, like molten metal spreading through my veins. My skin became hypersensitive, every touch—even the rough handling of my captors—sending jolts of unwanted sensation racing through my nervous system.

No. Not now. Not here.

But the awakening cared nothing for timing or circumstances. The Moon Bride stirred within me more powerfully than ever before, transforming my fear into something darker and more dangerous. My vision began to blur at the edges, my thoughts fragmenting as primal hunger clawed its way to the surface.

The largest man pinned me to the ground, his weight crushing, his breath hot against my face. "Thought you could cause trouble for important people, did you? Time to learn your place."

I tried to focus on his words, on the threat, on anything that might anchor me to rational thought. But the heat was spreading, consuming everything in its path. My back arched involuntarily, a gasp escaping my lips that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the terrible need building inside me.

"Well, well," one of them laughed, misinterpreting my reaction entirely. "Looks like the little slave girl likes it rough."

As the awakening crashed over me in waves, stronger and more insistent than any previous time, I realized with growing horror that I was trapped—not just by these men, but by my own transforming body.

The last coherent thought I managed before the Moon Bride's hunger consumed my mind entirely was a desperate, silent prayer: *Someone, anyone, please help me.*

But in the depths of that ancient forest, with predators closing in and my own nature betraying me, help seemed as distant and impossible as the moon itself.