Princess's Revenge: Slave to the Soulbound King Chapter 31

Liliana

The candlelight flickered against the silk draperies of my chambers, casting dancing shadows that matched the rhythm of my pleasure. My back pressed against the ornate bedpost, eyes half-closed as satisfaction spread through my body like warm honey. The young male servant knelt before me, his uniform disheveled, his movements guided by the gentle pressure of my fingers threading through his dark hair.

The scent suppressant I'd had him apply earlier masked our activities perfectly, and my loyal maid stood guard at the door—no one would disturb this private indulgence. I let out a soft moan, my grip tightening as waves of pleasure built toward their inevitable crescendo.

But then voices drifted through the door—my maid speaking in hushed, urgent tones with someone whose voice I recognized. Deep, low, commanding. One of Draven's trusted lieutenants.

My eyes snapped open, annoyance flickering through the haze of arousal. The servant tried to pull back, sensing my distraction, but my legs locked around him, holding him in place.

"Continue," I commanded, my voice silk-wrapped steel. My fingers traced his cheek with deceptive gentleness, though my nails pressed just hard enough to convey threat. "Make this quick, and you'll be excused from night duties."

He obeyed with renewed fervor, bringing me swiftly to climax. My body arched as pleasure crashed over me, a controlled moan escaping my lips. I savored the moment briefly before rising from the bed's edge, using a silk cloth to clean myself with calculated efficiency. Every movement was measured, precise—a performance of perfect control even in the aftermath of release.

I arranged my hair and smoothed my gown before opening the door to face Draven's messenger. My expression had already transformed into the mask of cool nobility expected of a court official.

"What matter requires such urgency?" I asked, allowing just the right amount of displeasure to color my tone.

The lieutenant's response was brief—I was to report to the interrogation chamber immediately. No details, no explanation. My eyes narrowed with suspicion, but I maintained my composure.

As I turned to dismiss the servant still adjusting his clothing, I caught my maid's eye. "Inform Lord Garrick that Commander Draven has called an emergency meeting," I murmured, my tone casual though my mind was already calculating possibilities. "He should know of this... development."

The corridors of Lycandor Keep seemed to stretch endlessly as I followed the lieutenant through the dim passageways. My steps remained graceful and measured, but my mind raced through potential scenarios and contingencies. Whatever had prompted this summons, I needed to be prepared for any outcome.

The interrogation chamber's heavy iron door groaned open, and I stepped inside to an atmosphere thick with tension. The bare stone walls seemed to press inward, and the single brazier cast harsh, unforgiving shadows that made the room feel like a tomb.

Draven stood at the head of the room, his ice-blue eyes burning with cold fury. His usually composed demeanor had cracked, revealing the predator beneath. Beside him, Vespera sat in his emerald robes, his green eyes unnaturally sharp as they tracked my every movement with the patience of a hunter.

"Today, Wolf King Lycanthar lost control and attacked Adelaide," Draven said without preamble, his voice cutting through the oppressive silence like a blade. "She was sprayed with werewolf pheromones—a deliberate act of sabotage." His gaze locked onto mine with laser intensity. "Tristan has already confessed. He claims you ordered him to arrange this."

For a split second, genuine shock flashed across my face before I could school my features. My hand flew to my chest, and I let my voice tremble with what I hoped sounded like genuine dismay.

"This is... this is absurd!" I shook my head, allowing my golden curls to catch the firelight. "I am His Majesty's blood thrall—how could I possibly do anything to harm him?" I even managed to summon tears, feeling them gather at the corners of my eyes like glistening jewels.

Draven's fist slammed against the wooden table with such force that it cracked down the middle. "Enough!" The sound echoed off the stone walls like thunder. "Tristan had no motive for such an act, but you—" His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "You have every reason to want Adelaide destroyed. You're jealous of her ability to calm the Wolf King, jealous that she might replace you."

I maintained my facade of wounded innocence, though I could feel my carefully constructed mask beginning to slip. "Commander Draven, I don't know why Tristan would lie about me, but please consider—as the Wolf King's blood thrall, why would I risk any action that could harm him?" I shifted tactics, going for his sense of justice. "Surely you require more than the desperate confession of a tortured servant to condemn me?"

A cold smile played at the corners of Draven's mouth—an expression more terrifying than any scowl. "You think your position as blood thrall makes you untouchable?" He stepped closer, his shadow falling across me like a shroud. "The Wolf King is in a feral state. He remembers nothing and no one. And I, as First Legion Commander, have the authority to determine the fate of anyone who threatens his safety." He turned to the guards with casual brutality. "Prepare for execution."

Terror shot through me like ice water, but before I could form a response, the chamber door burst open. Garrick strode in, his crimson battle cloak billowing behind him like spilled blood, an amused smile playing on his lips.

"Well, well," he drawled, his voice lazy with entertainment as his eyes moved between Draven and me. "What fascinating drama unfolds here? I never expected to find you so eager to execute our beloved Wolf King's blood thrall, Draven. How... unexpected."

The power dynamic in the room shifted instantly. Garrick's presence changed everything—he was a wild card that could either save me or damn me further. I fought to keep the relief from showing on my face while my mind raced to understand his intentions.

Draven's expression darkened further at the interruption, his jaw clenching as he regarded his rival commander. "This doesn't concern you, Garrick."

"Doesn't it?" Garrick's smile widened, showing too many teeth. "The execution of a blood thrall seems like it would concern all of us. After all, we wouldn't want to act... hastily." His eyes glittered with something that might have been malice or amusement—with Garrick, it was often impossible to tell the difference.

I remained silent, hardly daring to breathe as the two commanders faced off. Whatever game Garrick was playing, I could only hope it served my interests. The web of lies and manipulation I'd so carefully woven was unraveling, but perhaps—just perhaps—I might yet escape the consequences of my actions.

The tension in the chamber was suffocating, like the moment before lightning strikes. And I couldn't shake the feeling that whatever happened next would determine not just my fate, but the future of all our carefully laid plans.