Princess's Revenge: Slave to the Soulbound King Chapter 135

Adelaide

The great hall of Eldoria's royal palace had been transformed into a vision of spring's splendor. Garlands of cherry blossoms and climbing roses adorned the marble columns, while cascades of ivy and jasmine created verdant archways throughout the space. The very air seemed to shimmer with the promise of new beginnings.

King Edmund Valendria sat upon his throne, resplendent in formal royal attire of deep blue velvet embroidered with silver threads. His keen eyes swept the assembled nobility with the practiced gaze of a ruler.

I descended the grand staircase slowly, acutely aware of every eye upon me. My gown—a masterpiece of pale green silk adorned with silver embroidery—had been chosen to reflect the spring theme while maintaining royal dignity.

"My lords and ladies," King Edmund's voice rang clear across the hall as he rose from his throne. "Tonight, we celebrate the renewal that spring brings to our kingdom. May this season of growth and new beginnings bring joy to all our houses and perhaps... new unions."

The subtle emphasis on his final words sent a ripple of understanding through the crowd, and I felt the weight of dozens of calculating gazes.

The parade of suitors began almost immediately. Sir Marcus Aldrich boasted of military victories, Lord Reginald Whitmore expounded on scholarly pursuits, and Lord Frederick Montague detailed his merchant empire's profits. Each conversation followed the same pattern—polite interest on my part, growing frustration on theirs as my responses remained diplomatically distant.

As the evening progressed, I maintained my courteous facade while growing increasingly aware that no one could measure against the standard Lycanthar had set in my heart. Each comparison only deepened my sense of loss, and I found myself longing for the solitude of my chambers.

It was then that Carlos Dumont, Earl of Northmoor, approached with wine-flushed cheeks and an expression of barely contained irritation. His earlier attempts at conversation had been met with polite but cool responses, and alcohol had clearly loosened his tongue beyond propriety.

"Your Highness," Carlos said, his voice carrying an edge. "I confess myself puzzled by your... standards this evening. One could almost believe that your time among the wolves has muddled your idea of proper 'human' gentlemen."

The hall fell silent around us, conversations dying as nobles strained to hear this unprecedented breach of etiquette. I felt my spine stiffen, but maintained my composure.

"I beg your pardon, Lord Carlos?"

"Come now," he continued, emboldened by wine. "We all know where you spent those missing years. Perhaps your time as a... pet... to those beasts has left you unable to appreciate the refined company of your own kind."

Gasps echoed through the nearby crowd, but I remained perfectly still, my hands clasped before me with deadly calm. When I spoke, my voice carried the authority gained from four years managing the kingdom's affairs.

"Lord Carlos, I find it curious that a man whose grandfather fled his debts to creditors in three kingdoms would presume to lecture me on proper judgment. My experiences in Silverhowl brought peace to our borders and secured invaluable diplomatic advantages for Eldoria. What precisely have your... refined... qualities contributed to our kingdom's welfare?"

Before Carlos could sputter a response, another voice cut through the tension.

"If I may intervene," said Lucien Windmore, Earl of Eastmarch, as he stepped forward with fluid grace—not with volume or bluster, but with a quiet confidence that ached with reminders of Lycanthar. "Lord Carlos, your words dishonor not only Her Highness but this entire gathering. Princess Adelaide's courage in entering Silverhowl alone represents everything noble about our kingdom's character."

King Edmund rose from his throne, his expression thunderous. "Lord Carlos, you will apologize to Princess Adelaide immediately, and then you will be escorted from this gathering. Consider yourself barred from court functions until you learn proper conduct."

The king's words immediately silenced the nobles' whispered gossip. After Carlos's strangled apology and departure, the atmosphere at the banquet returned to its former ease.

Lucien bowed gracefully before me. "Your Highness, might I have the honor of this dance? Perhaps we can restore some dignity to this evening."

I studied his face—strong features framed by dark hair, eyes that held a sharp, observant intelligence, yet softened with kindness. Against my better judgment, I found myself intrigued.

"Of course, Lord Lucien."

As we moved onto the dance floor, I became aware of the approving murmurs around us and Father's satisfied smile. Lucien moved with practiced grace, leading me through the steps with confident ease while maintaining perfect respectful distance.

"I hope you'll forgive Carlos's behavior," he said quietly as we turned. "Wine and wounded pride make poor counselors."

His conversation proved intelligent without being pompous, his manner confident without arrogance. When the music ended, he suggested we continue talking in a quieter corner of the hall—still visible to all, but away from the press of other nobles.

"I confess," Lucien said as we settled near a window overlooking the moonlit gardens, "I've long admired your dedication to Eldoria's welfare. Your reforms in agriculture and trade have been remarkable."

"You flatter me, Lord Lucien."

"Not flattery—observation. I've seen how your policies have improved conditions in the eastern provinces." He paused, studying my face with genuine concern. "If I may be bold, you seem thoughtful tonight. I hope the evening's unpleasantness hasn't distressed you?"

His sincere concern caught me off guard. In that moment, I saw clearly what Father and the court saw—a nobleman of obvious quality showing genuine interest in my welfare. Under different circumstances, perhaps...

But as I looked into Lucien's earnest eyes, all I could think was how they weren't the golden eyes that had once looked into my very soul. His strength reminded me of another's power, his intelligence of another's wisdom. Every similarity only emphasized what was missing.

"Lord Lucien," I said gently, "I want you to know that I'm deeply grateful for your kindness tonight, and I respect your character greatly. But I must be honest—I'm not ready to consider any romantic attachments at present."

His expression shifted to understanding rather than disappointment. "I see. Might I ask... is it because your heart remains elsewhere?"

The perceptive question hit closer to home than I expected. "Perhaps. But more than that, I believe my kingdom needs my full attention right now. Eldoria deserves a ruler whose focus isn't divided."

Lucien nodded slowly. "I understand, Your Highness. And I respect your honesty. Might I hope that we could at least remain friends? And perhaps... allies in serving our kingdom's interests?"

"I would welcome such a friendship," I replied, meaning it.

After taking gracious leave of the remaining guests, I escaped to my chambers. The evening had been a success by any political measure, yet as I stood on my balcony, gazing toward the distant mountains that hid Silverhowl from view, I felt only the familiar ache of longing.

I pressed my hand against my chest, feeling my heart's steady rhythm. Even after four years, even after everything that had happened, he was still there—buried deep in every beat, in every breath I took. Did he ever think of me? Did he ever wonder what became of the human princess who had loved him so completely?

The questions rose unbidden, and with them came the bitter memories I tried so hard to suppress. His cold voice echoing in that chamber: "I never loved you. You were nothing more than a convenient tool." The sight of him with Cressida, deliberately cruel, destroyed every tender moment we had shared.

I straightened my shoulders, forcing my breathing to steady. "Stop," I whispered to myself, to the night, to the merciless ache in my chest. "Just stop."

I had a kingdom to rule, a people to serve, and family who needed me. Thalia grew weaker each day, and her children would soon need guidance only I could provide. I had built something meaningful here in Eldoria—prosperity, peace, purpose.

That would have to be enough.

"No more," I said firmly to the distant mountains. "I choose to focus on what I can control, on those who truly need me."

I turned away from the balcony, away from the view that led toward Silverhowl, and walked back into my chambers. Tomorrow I would immerse myself in the kingdom's affairs, in helping Thalia through her difficult days, in being the ruler my people deserved.

As for the wolf king who had broken my heart so thoroughly—let him remain in the past where he belonged.