Princess's Revenge: Slave to the Soulbound King Chapter 20

Adelaide

The morning sun streamed through the narrow window of my sparse slave quarters, casting long shadows across the rough stone floor as I smoothed the coarse blanket over my sleeping pallet. The simple routine helped center my thoughts until Giselle burst through the door, her face drained of color and her hands trembling violently.

"Adelaide," she gasped, struggling to form coherent words. "Last night... Thalia... she was..."

My heart lurched as I dropped the fabric in my hands, rushing to grip her shoulders. "What happened? Where is she?"

Giselle's words came in broken fragments between shuddering breaths. "Liliana... she whipped her... so much blood... Commander Draven came and took her away to Moonclaw Citadel."

The world tilted beneath my feet. I steadied myself against the wall, my chest constricting as if a stone had been pressed against my ribs. "How badly was she hurt? Is she... will she be alright?"

"I don't know," Giselle whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. "There was so much blood, and she could barely stand."

Rage and terror warred within me, my hands clenching into fists. The image of Thalia suffering because of our mission—because of me—made bile rise in my throat. I had to see her, had to ensure her safety with my own eyes.

"I need to go to her immediately," I declared, moving toward the door with determined strides.

Within the hour, I had convinced Vespera's guards to escort me to Moonclaw Citadel. My heart hammered against my ribs as we passed through corridors lined with weapons and battle standards, the air thick with the scent of leather and steel.

When the guards finally led me to Thalia's chamber, I burst through the doorway without ceremony. She lay propped against silk pillows in a bed far grander than anything we'd seen since arriving, her golden hair spread like a halo around her pale face. Clean white bandages wrapped her shoulders and arms, a stark contrast to her usual vibrant complexion.

"Thalia!" I rushed to her side, falling to my knees beside the bed.

Her blue eyes brightened with surprise and joy. "Adelaide... how did you—" She winced as she tried to sit up straighter.

I carefully embraced her, mindful of her injuries, relief flooding through me at the warmth of her living breath against my shoulder. "I heard what happened. Oh God, Thalia, I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologize," she said firmly, though her voice carried a tremor of exhaustion. "This wasn't your fault."

I pulled back to examine her wounds, my eyes filling with tears at the evidence of her suffering. "Liliana did this because of me, didn't she? Because you defended me during the ceremony?"

Thalia shook her head, her expression hardening with disgust. "She's vicious and jealous. That's all there is to it." As she spoke, her fingers unconsciously tugged at the neckline of her sleeping gown, attempting to conceal something.

My sharp eyes caught the gesture immediately. Gently, I lowered the fabric, revealing several clear puncture marks along her throat—unmistakably werewolf fangs.

I raised an eyebrow, studying her face. "Did Draven hurt you? Did he force himself on you?"

Thalia's cheeks bloomed with crimson, her gaze darting away from mine. "No... it wasn't like that. He was... gentle. Very gentle." The words came out in a rush, colored with embarrassment and something deeper.

"Thalia." I took her hands in mine, my voice soft but insistent. "Tell me what really happened."

She drew a shaky breath, then slowly recounted the events—how Draven had rescued her from Liliana's cruelty, tended her wounds with careful hands, and how their shared moment had evolved into something intimate and passionate. "But he stopped," she added quietly. "He left as if he was frightened by what we'd done."

"You care for him," I observed, seeing the truth written plainly in her expression.

After a long silence, she nodded, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "He's not the monster we expected. He's honorable, loyal to his people, fair to his subordinates. And with me... he was so tender, so protective." Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. "But I feel like such a traitor. We came here to gather intelligence, to help our kingdom resist the werewolves, not to... fall in love with them."

I squeezed her hands. "The heart doesn't follow the commands of duty, Thalia. Perhaps this is fate showing us a side of them we never knew existed."

She studied my face intently. "And what about you? I've seen how your expression changes when you speak of the Wolf King."

A complex web of emotions tangled in my chest. I told her about Vespera's warning—Garrick's plan to assassinate Lycanthar. "I don't know what to think anymore," I admitted. "Part of me feels this connection to him through the Moon Bride bond. But if he regains his sanity and becomes a stronger, more cunning leader, what threat will that pose to our people?"

"Garrick would be far more brutal," Thalia pointed out.

"I know." I met her eyes with steely resolve. "But my loyalty will always be to Eldoria and our people first. If a restored Wolf King proves to be a tyrant who threatens my kingdom, I won't hesitate to kill him—even if it means destroying part of myself in the process."

The weight of my words settled between us, heavy with the gravity of the choice I might someday face.

---

That night, moonlight poured through my window like liquid silver, painting my small chamber in ethereal hues. I tossed restlessly on my narrow bed, sleep eluding me as a familiar heat began to build in my core—more intense than any previous awakening.

My body felt foreign, as if it belonged to someone else. Every nerve ending sang with desperate need, and the simple fabric of my sleeping gown felt like torture against my fevered skin. I gripped the bedsheets so tightly my knuckles went white, fighting against the tide of sensation threatening to overwhelm my rational mind.

"Please," I whispered to the empty room, though I wasn't sure what I was begging for—relief or resistance.

Sweat beaded on my forehead and dampened my hair as the Moon Bride awakening entered a deeper phase. My heart pounded so forcefully I could hear it echoing in my ears, and each breath felt insufficient, as if the air itself had grown thin.

In the midst of the overwhelming sensations, something else stirred—a pull, deep and undeniable, tugging at the very essence of my being. It was as if an invisible thread connected me to something distant yet achingly close, calling me with a voice that bypassed my ears and spoke directly to my soul.

The Iron Maw. Lycanthar.

I sat up abruptly, my body trembling with more than just desire. My legs felt unsteady as I rose, but the compulsion was too strong to ignore. Every instinct screamed that I was walking toward danger, yet my feet carried me toward the door as if guided by an ancient magic I couldn't comprehend.

The rational part of my mind fought against the supernatural pull, but my body had developed a will of its own. I slipped from my chamber, avoiding the patrol routes I'd memorized, moving through shadows with an urgency that defied explanation.

Each step was a battle between my conscious will and this primal force drawing me toward the very creature who represented both my salvation and my potential destruction. The moonlight seemed to guide my path, and with every heartbeat, the invisible thread pulled tighter, leading me inexorably toward the depths of the keep where the Wolf King waited in his eternal torment.