Princess's Revenge: Slave to the Soulbound King Chapter 25

Liliana

The crystal perfume bottle slipped from my trembling fingers, shattering against the marble floor of my chambers. Its once-precious scent now cloyed and nauseated in the confined space. Garrick's summons had arrived with the force of a physical blow, carried by a guard whose eyes held barely concealed terror.

*Now? At this hour?*

I stared at my reflection in the ornate mirror, noting how my usual composure had cracked like the broken glass at my feet. My hands shook as I selected a deep crimson silk gown. The fabric clung to my curves, and I forced my expression into the mask of serene confidence that had served me well through the centuries.

The journey to Nightfang Fortress felt like a death march. My escorts maintained respectful silence, but I could sense their unease. Everyone knew of Garrick's volatile temper, his casual cruelty toward those who disappointed him. As we approached the imposing black walls of his stronghold, the very air seemed to thicken with menace.

When the great hall doors swung open, my composure finally shattered.

In the center of the vast chamber, suspended from the vaulted ceiling by iron chains, hung the naked corpse of what had once been a human serving girl. Her body was a canvas of horror, stripped flesh hanging in ribbons from bones that gleamed white in the torchlight. Blood pooled beneath her, so much blood that it had formed geometric patterns across the ancient stones.

But the most horrifying sight was Garrick himself, standing before his grotesque artwork with a barbed whip in his hands. His face and chest were painted crimson with arterial spray, and his expression... *Moon Goddess preserve me*, his expression was one of pure, artistic satisfaction. As if he had just completed a masterpiece rather than tortured an innocent to death.

He turned toward me as I entered, his lips pulling back in a smile that revealed blood-stained teeth. The contrast between the gleaming white enamel and the dark crimson coating them made my stomach lurch violently.

"Ah, Liliana," he purred, his voice unnaturally gentle in the face of such brutality. "The King's favorite blood thrall. What do you think of my new whip? Custom-made, with barbs designed to tear flesh in the most... artistic patterns."

I fought down the bile rising in my throat, forcing my voice to remain steady. "Very... very effective, my lord." My eyes refused to focus on the mutilated corpse, though its presence dominated my peripheral vision like a nightmare made manifest.

Garrick casually swung the blood-soaked weapon in a lazy circle, sending droplets of gore spiraling across the marble floor. "You know," he continued conversationally, "when you whipped that Thalia girl, you should have used something like this. Perhaps then we wouldn't be standing here now, would we?"

The temperature in the hall seemed to drop ten degrees. My knees began to tremble, and I slowly sank to the floor, pressing my forehead nearly to the stone. "My lord, I attempted to approach Adelaide, but Vespera had increased security around her. When I couldn't reach her directly, I chose to discipline Thalia instead, hoping to draw Adelaide out, but... but Draven arrived and stopped me before I could complete the task."

The sound of the whip hitting the floor was like a death knell. Garrick's footsteps approached slowly, deliberately, each boot strike echoing through the hall like a countdown to my execution. He knelt beside me, his blood-stained fingers gripping my chin and forcing me to meet his gaze. The metallic stench of death on his hands nearly overwhelmed my senses.

"I don't care about process, Liliana," his voice dropped to a whisper that somehow seemed more menacing than any shout. "I only care about results. And the result is that you failed." His grip tightened, fingernails digging into my skin. "If you disappoint me again... I wouldn't want the Wolf King to lose his favorite meal. After all, blood thralls aren't irreplaceable, are they?"

The threat hung in the air like a blade poised to fall. I had seen what Garrick's displeasure could accomplish—the evidence hung rotting above us, a testament to his creativity in inflicting suffering. My throat constricted as I struggled to speak around his punishing grip.

"I... I won't disappoint you again, my lord."

His hand released me so suddenly that I nearly collapsed face-first onto the bloody stones. He rose to his full height, towering over me like an executioner. "Get out. The next time I see you, I want good news, not excuses."

I scrambled to my feet and fled, my silk gown rustling against the gore-slicked floor as I ran. The guards watched my hasty retreat with carefully neutral expressions, but I could sense their relief that they weren't the ones facing Garrick's wrath tonight.

The moment I cleared the fortress gates, my body betrayed me completely. I staggered to the shadows behind the outer wall and retched violently, my stomach purging itself of everything I had consumed that day. The taste of bile mixed with the lingering metallic scent still clinging to my clothes, creating a nauseating cocktail that had me dry-heaving long after my stomach was empty.

I leaned against the cold stone wall, my entire body shaking as I tried to process what I had witnessed. In three centuries of existence, I had seen violence, had participated in the darker aspects of werewolf society, but nothing had prepared me for the casual artistry of Garrick's torture. The way he had looked at that poor girl's mutilated corpse with the same appreciation one might show a beautiful painting...

*He's completely mad.*

But madness made him dangerous in ways that simple ambition never could. And I was bound to him now, complicit in his schemes whether I liked it or not. If I failed him again, I would become his next artistic endeavor.

As my breathing finally steadied, I forced myself to think clearly through the haze of terror and revulsion. Garrick wanted results, not excuses. Adelaide was protected, guarded too closely for direct approach. Thalia had proven resilient, and Draven's intervention had made her untouchable as well.

But everyone had weaknesses. Everyone had something they valued more than their own safety.

A cold smile spread across my face as a new plan began to form. If I couldn't reach Adelaide directly, if I couldn't destroy her through Thalia, then perhaps there was another way. The Wolf King's protection was her only shield—without it, she would be nothing more than an ant, easily crushed beneath my heel.

*All I need to do is make him withdraw that protection.*

I straightened my gown and began the journey back to Lycandor Keep, my steps growing more confident with each passing moment. Garrick wanted Adelaide removed from the equation, and I wanted my position as the Wolf King's sole companion restored. Our goals aligned perfectly, but that didn't mean I had to employ his methods.

Sometimes the most effective poison came wrapped in silk and served with a smile. And I had centuries of practice in both.

*Let her try to save her precious Lycanthar from madness,* I thought as the Keep's familiar towers came into view. *Once the Wolf King turns his back on her, she'll discover just how fragile human bones can be when crushed by werewolf claws.*