Princess's Revenge: Slave to the Soulbound King Chapter 42

Adelaide

The morning light felt different—softer, more golden. I lay beneath silk sheets that carried Lycanthar's scent, my body still humming with memories of our three days together.

I closed my eyes, drifting back to those precious memories. In my mind's eye, the silver-furred beast began to change, reshaping into something achingly familiar. Where fur had been, now pale skin stretched over powerful muscles. Silver-white hair cascaded past his shoulders, and golden eyes gazed at me with profound intelligence and tenderness that made my breath catch.

But even as I basked in the beauty of the illusion, it began to fade like morning mist. A chill raced down my spine that had nothing to do with dawn air, and every instinct gifted by my awakening screamed warning.

Danger. Close. Coming fast.

Heavy boots marched in perfect synchronization, metallic clatter echoing through corridors like approaching war. The rhythmic cadence grew louder, more menacing, until it seemed to shake the very walls.

My chamber door exploded inward. Heavy oak slammed against stone with such force that dust rained from ancient mortar, and bronze hinges groaned in protest.

Garrick strode through with predatory confidence, blood-red armor gleaming. Behind him marched twenty elite warriors, faces hidden behind war helms, weapons drawn. The sight of them in my private chambers sent ice through my veins.

"Well, well," Garrick drawled, lips curving into a smile that made my skin crawl. "If it isn't our beautiful Moon Bride, fresh from her... sacred duties."

I clutched the silk sheet tighter, fighting to keep my voice steady. "Commander Garrick. To what do I owe this... visit?"

His laugh was like breaking glass. "Such innocence. Such perfect, murderous innocence." He stepped closer, and I caught the scent of fresh blood on his armor—fresh blood that made my enhanced senses recoil. "How tragic that your awakening has come at such a terrible price."

My heart hammered against my ribs. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, you play the part beautifully," he continued, circling me like a wolf stalking wounded prey. "The grieving lover, the confused maiden. But we know the truth, don't we? We know what you've done."

"I haven't done anything!" The words burst from me, high and desperate.

Garrick's expression shifted, mockery vanishing like smoke to reveal something far more dangerous underneath. His golden eyes blazed with righteous fury as he pointed an accusing finger at my heart.

"You murdered him," he snarled. "Our great Wolf King, our ancient sovereign—reduced to nothing but cooling flesh by the treachery of a human whore."

The accusation hit me like a physical blow. I staggered backward, my legs suddenly weak, the sheet slipping forgotten from my nerveless fingers. The world tilted on its axis, reality fracturing around the impossible words.

"No," I whispered, shaking my head frantically. "No, that's impossible. He was—he was getting better! I could see it in his eyes, the madness was lifting—"

"Lies!" Garrick roared, and several warriors stepped forward, weapons now pointing directly at me. "According to the ancient laws of Silverhowl, the penalty for regicide is death. Immediate. Painful. Final."

Even as denial clawed at my throat, terrible certainty began creeping through my enhanced senses. Something was wrong. Something was missing. The subtle connection that had thrummed between us like a golden thread—where was it now?

"Bind her," Garrick commanded, his voice cutting through my spiraling thoughts like a blade. "And if she resists, you have my permission to remind her of her place."

Rough hands seized my arms before I could react, hauling me upright with bruising force. Iron shackles snapped around my wrists, cold metal biting into skin still tender from transformation.

"Please," I gasped, voice breaking as reality crashed over me in waves. "You have to let me see him. I need to—"

"The only thing you need," Garrick interrupted, face inches from mine, "is to prepare your soul for judgment."

Draven

Morning reports lay scattered across my desk like fallen leaves—supply requisitions, patrol schedules, correspondence from allied clans. The endless paperwork that kept our forces functioning smoothly.

I'd been reviewing grain store calculations when urgent pounding began. Not the respectful knock of a subordinate, but the urgent hammering of someone driven by panic.

"Enter," I called.

The door burst open with such violence that I felt displaced air ruffle the papers on my desk. One of my junior lieutenants stumbled inside, face flushed with exertion and terror. He dropped to one knee immediately, breathing ragged.

"Commander," he gasped, "urgent news from Lycandor Keep!"

"Speak."

His words tumbled out in a rush, as if speaking them quickly might lessen their impact. "Commander Garrick has entered the Iron Maw with his elite guard. He—he claims the Wolf King is dead, sir. And he's blaming the human girl, Adelaide, for his murder!"

The world stopped.

Every sound faded to a distant whisper—the crackling fire, rustling papers, even my own breathing seemed to cease. For a moment that stretched like eternity, I sat frozen in my chair, my mind refusing to process what I'd just heard.

Lycanthar. Dead.

The words made no sense. After everything we'd endured, all the years of searching for a cure, all the desperate hope I'd pinned on Adelaide's awakening—how could it end like this?

My hands gripped the desk edge so tightly the ancient oak creaked under pressure. "No," I breathed, voice barely audible. "This can't be happening."

There was a loud crash at the door. The lieutenant and I looked over to see Thalia standing there, stunned. Scattered in front of her were pieces of bread, cheese, and the shards of a teacup—she had obviously come to bring me breakfast as usual.

"No!" Thalia's face was pale as she walked in, disbelief written all over her features. "This can't be! Adelaide would never—she couldn't have—"

She rushed to my side, eyes blazing with desperate certainty. "Exactly! She risked everything to save him. The ritual, the awakening—she endured three days of agony to forge the bond that might have restored his sanity. She would die before she'd hurt him!"

But even as I believed Thalia, doubt began creeping through my mind like poison. What if something had gone wrong during the ritual? What if Adelaide's human nature had proved too weak to contain the power she'd tried to channel?

"No," I said firmly, cutting off that thought before it could take root. "I won't believe it. Not without seeing the evidence myself."

I turned to the lieutenant. "Gather my personal guard. Full battle gear. We ride for Lycandor Keep immediately."

"Sir, yes sir!" He scrambled to his feet and bolted from the room.

Thalia caught my arm as I moved toward my weapons cabinet. "Draven, I'm coming with you."

I paused, hand halfway to my sword belt. Every instinct screamed this situation was about to become dangerous—possibly fatal. If Garrick was making his move for power, bringing Thalia into that environment was madness.

"This could be a trap," I warned. "If Garrick is behind this—"

"Then you'll need someone who can sense deception," she interrupted, voice steady despite tears streaming down her cheeks. "My abilities might be the only way to uncover the truth. And Adelaide will need a friend."

I also saw the determination burning in her dark blue eyes. After a moment's hesitation, I nodded grimly. "Stay close to me. No matter what we find, you don't leave my side. Understood?"

"Understood."

Within minutes, my elite guard had assembled—twenty of the finest warriors the First Legion had ever produced. We thundered out of Moonclaw Citadel toward whatever fate awaited us.

As we rode through morning mist, one thought echoed through my mind like a funeral bell: If Lycanthar truly was dead, if three centuries of hope had finally died with him, then everything we'd fought for had been in vain.

But until I saw his body with my own eyes, until I heard truth from Adelaide's lips, I would not believe it.

Because if Lycanthar was truly gone, then the dream of redemption died with him—and I wasn't ready to face that darkness. Not yet.