Princess's Revenge: Slave to the Soulbound King Chapter 48

Liliana

I stood at the tall window of my chambers, my fingers pressed against the cool glass as I gazed out at the courtyard below. Something was different—an electric tension in the air that made my skin prickle with unease. Where were the guards that usually stood sentinel outside my door?

Cautiously, I opened the door and peered into the corridor. Empty. My heart began to race as I spotted a passing servant, a young woman whose eyes widened with excitement when she saw me.

"Where are the guards?" I asked, trying to keep my voice casual despite the alarm bells ringing in my mind.

The servant paused, practically bouncing on her feet with barely contained enthusiasm. "My lady, haven't you heard? His Majesty the Wolf King has returned to his human form! Commander Draven has recalled all guards to strengthen the defenses at Lycandor Keep!"

The words hit me like a physical blow. I felt the blood drain from my face as the servant continued, oblivious to my shock.

"They say he's truly awakened—not just shifted back, but fully conscious and aware! After all these centuries of madness, it's like watching someone return from the dead!"

The servant hurried away, her footsteps echoing down the corridor. I stumbled back into my chambers, pressing my back against the door as my legs threatened to give way beneath me.

"Impossible..." I whispered, my hands trembling as I raised them to my face. "He was as good as dead... three centuries of mindless rage, and now..."

I walked unsteadily to my vanity, staring at my reflection in the polished silver mirror. "This completely ruins everything..." I breathed, my voice barely audible. My carefully laid plans with Garrick, all the seeds of doubt we'd planted about the kingdom's need for new leadership while their king was "indisposed"—all of it crumbling in an instant.

After a moment of shock, I forced myself to breathe deeply. "Calm yourself, Liliana," I murmured, patting my cheeks to bring color back to them. "The situation has changed, so the plan must change with it. If Garrick's ambitions must be set aside for now, then it's time to show my true worth to the rightful king."

The Wolf King had been trapped in beast form for so long. Such a miraculous recovery would surely leave him vulnerable. In need of guidance from those who had remained loyal during his darkest hours. I still had a chance.

I applied a special perfume—one infused with rare spices that were known to stimulate werewolf senses. I arranged my dark hair in loose waves that framed my face perfectly, applied just enough cosmetics to enhance my natural beauty, and slipped into the silver gown.

"Whether it's Garrick or Lycanthar," I said to my reflection, "power ultimately belongs to those bold enough to seize their opportunities."

Lycanthar

I paced before the great fireplace, my fists clenched as frustration coursed through my veins like poison. The flames danced mockingly before me, their light illuminating nothing but the gaping holes in my memory. Three centuries—gone. Wiped clean as if they had never existed.

My body felt foreign, like wearing clothes that no longer fit. Worse still were the fragments that surfaced unbidden: flashes of faces I should recognize, voices calling my name, decisions that had shaped my kingdom while I was lost to madness. My kingdom teetered on the edge of chaos, and I stood at its center like a stranger in my own home.

A soft knock interrupted my brooding. "Enter," I snapped, my voice sharper than intended.

"Your Majesty, your blood thrall Liliana requests an audience," announced one of my guards, his voice carefully respectful but tinged with the wariness I'd grown accustomed to seeing in everyone's eyes.

Liliana. The name stirred something in the murky depths of my memory—fragments of images and sensations that felt more like dreams than reality. My blood thrall for... how long? The details were frustratingly vague, another piece of my stolen past.

"Send her in." Perhaps her blood would quiet the storm raging in my mind.

I heard the rustle of silk before I saw her, and when I turned, I was struck by the woman who entered my chambers. She was undeniably beautiful—curves that would make any man's blood quicken.

She sank to her knees in a graceful curtsy, her head bowed in perfect submission. "Your Majesty," she said, her voice like warm honey. "You seem... troubled. Allow me to provide the sustenance that will restore your peace."

Peace. Yes, that was what I desperately needed. The constant churn of questions without answers, the pressure of a crown that felt foreign on my brow—perhaps her blood could silence it all, if only temporarily.

I nodded slowly, watching as she rose with fluid grace and approached me. When she knelt before me and tilted her head back, exposing the elegant column of her neck, I caught the intoxicating scent of her perfume mixed with the rich aroma of her blood.

I lowered my head and pierced the soft skin of her throat with my fangs, seeking not just nourishment but respite from the chaos in my mind. She gasped softly, her body trembling as I drew the life force from her veins. The blood was warm and sweet, and for a blessed moment, the torrent of confusion and doubt quieted to a whisper.

But as I fed, she did something unexpected. Instead of remaining still and submissive, she pressed closer to me, her hands coming up to rest against my chest. Her fingers traced the lines of my muscles through my shirt, her touch growing bolder with each passing moment.

When I lifted my head, the brief peace already beginning to fracture, she didn't retreat. Instead, she leaned into me, her breath warm against my ear as she whispered, "Your Majesty... I have waited three centuries for your return, faithful and devoted."

Her hands grew more adventurous, one sliding down my torso while the other tangled in my hair. She pressed her body against mine, all silk and soft curves and promises of pleasure.

"I can ease your pain," she murmured, her lips brushing against my jaw. "Let me serve you as I was meant to... in every way. Let me help you forget your troubles."

My hands moved toward her waist, drawn by instinct and the desperate need for any anchor in the storm of my fractured existence. She was beautiful, willing, and mine by right...

But then something shifted within me—a deep, inexplicable restlessness that cut through even the temporary calm her blood had provided. The feeling was so sudden and overwhelming that I stepped back abruptly, my hands falling to my sides.

Her perfume, her taste, the very essence of her—none of it truly quieted the turmoil within me. Instead, it only seemed to intensify a longing for something else, something I couldn't name but that my wolf instincts insisted was missing.

"Enough, Liliana." My voice carried the full weight of royal authority, cold and distant. "You may withdraw. I have matters of state to consider."

Liliana froze, her seductive expression cracking like a mask. For an instant, I saw raw hurt and fury flash across her features before she quickly schooled them back into submission.

"As you command, Your Majesty," she said, her voice carefully controlled despite the obvious effort it took.

I watched her leave, noting the rigid set of her shoulders and the way her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She had gambled everything on this moment, and I had rejected her completely. Such a woman would not forget this humiliation easily.

But I found I cared little for her wounded pride. The frustration returned with renewed force, and I turned back to the fire, my mind once again churning with questions that had no answers.