Princess's Revenge: Slave to the Soulbound King Chapter 6

Adelaide

The silence stretched between us as Draven's calculating gaze moved from the peacefully sleeping wolf king to Thalia's battered form, then finally settled on me. My heart hammered against my ribs as I struggled to appear as frightened and confused as any normal human slave would be in this situation.

"Answer me," he said quietly, his voice carrying the authority of someone accustomed to immediate obedience. "What happened here?"

Thalia stirred against the wall, pushing herself upright despite the obvious pain the movement caused her. Blood had dried at the corner of her mouth, and her left arm hung at an unnatural angle, but her blue eyes remained steady as she met Draven's gaze.

"I served him," she said, her voice hoarse but clear. "I gave myself to the beast so that he might find peace."

"You?" Draven's tone carried a mixture of disbelief and grudging respect. His gaze swept over Thalia's small frame, taking in the bruises that mottled her pale skin, the way she cradled her injured arm. "A slip of a human girl managed to satisfy a beast that has known no peace for three centuries?"

"Sometimes," Thalia said softly, "the goddess works through the most unlikely vessels."

Draven circled around us with predatory grace, his boots clicking against the stone floor. When he stopped in front of me, I felt the weight of his scrutiny like a physical pressure. He studied my unmarked skin, the absence of wounds despite being in the same cell as a creature that had brutalized Thalia.

"And you?" he asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "What role did you play in this miracle?"

I forced myself to meet his eyes, summoning every ounce of acting ability I possessed. "I... I hid," I stammered, letting my voice shake with what I hoped sounded like genuine terror. "When the beast took her, I pressed myself against the wall and tried to become invisible. I was too frightened to move."

Draven's lips curved in a cold smile. "A coward, then. How fortunate for you that cowardice sometimes serves survival." He looked between us once more, and I could see him weighing possibilities in his mind. After a long moment, he seemed to reach a conclusion.

He snapped his fingers, and two guards stepped into the cell. They tossed rough woolen garments toward us—simple brown dresses that would mark us clearly as slaves.

"Take the brave one to Moonclaw Citadel," Draven ordered, his tone becoming brisk and businesslike. "Commander Thalor will want to question her extensively about how she managed this feat. She's to be kept under strict watch—valuable prisoners require careful handling."

My heart lurched as the implications hit me. Moonclaw Citadel was the First Legion's fortress, which meant Thalia would be taken far from here, separated from me when I needed her guidance most. But even as panic clawed at my throat, I forced myself to remain silent. Any protest would only draw unwanted attention to our relationship.

"The coward returns to the slave quarters," Draven continued, his dismissive tone making it clear how little threat he considered me. "Find work suitable for her particular... talents."

One of the guards roughly pulled me to my feet, shoving the coarse dress into my hands. As I struggled to pull it over my head, I caught Thalia's eye one last time. She mouthed a single word: "Careful."

Then they were leading her away, and I was left standing alone in the cell with Draven and the sleeping wolf king. The commander studied Lycanthar's peaceful face with an expression I couldn't quite read—part wonder, part grief, part desperate hope.

"Fascinating," he murmured, almost to himself. "I wonder if she'll be able to repeat the miracle."

---

The young human woman who came to collect me introduced herself as Giselle in a voice barely above a whisper. She was perhaps sixteen, with mousy brown hair and large, frightened eyes that darted constantly to the shadows as if expecting punishment to emerge from them.

"This way, miss," she said, her accent marking her as someone who had been born in the wolf territories rather than captured from human lands. "I'm to take you to the lower servants' quarters."

We walked through a maze of corridors carved from the same dark stone as my prison cell. The passages were narrow and oppressive, lit by torches that cast dancing shadows on the walls.

"What kind of work will I be doing?" I asked, trying to strike the right balance between curiosity and resignation.

Giselle glanced at me nervously. "Cleaning, mostly. Scrubbing floors, emptying chamber pots, that sort of thing. The kind of work they give to..." She trailed off, her cheeks coloring.

"To humans," I finished for her.

She nodded quickly. "It's not so bad if you keep your head down and don't draw attention. The important thing is to stay invisible, especially when the nobles are about."

We rounded a corner, and Giselle suddenly pressed herself against the wall, pulling me with her. "Lower your eyes," she hissed urgently.

A woman approached from the opposite direction, and I understood immediately why Giselle had reacted with such deference. Unlike us in our rough brown slave dresses, this woman wore a gown of flowing midnight blue silk that whispered against the stone floor as she walked. Her dark hair was elaborately arranged with silver pins, and around her throat was a collar of the same metal—beautiful and delicate, but unmistakably a mark of ownership.

"Lady Liliana," Giselle breathed, dropping into a curtsy so deep her knee nearly touched the floor.

The woman—Liliana—glided past us with the kind of fluid grace that spoke of confidence in her own power and position. But as she drew level with me, she slowed, her head turning slightly in my direction. I kept my eyes fixed on the floor as Giselle had instructed, but I could feel Liliana's gaze was like a snake, silently wrapping around me.

For a moment that stretched far too long, she simply stood there. Then I heard the soft sound of her drawing breath through her nose, as if she were... smelling me. My blood ran cold as I remembered what Thalia had said about how different I might smell now that the awakening had begun.

When Liliana finally continued on her way, I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. We waited until the whisper of silk against stone had faded before Giselle dared to move again.

"Who was that?" I asked as we resumed walking, though I had a sinking feeling I already knew.

"Lady Liliana," Giselle said, her voice filled with a mixture of awe and wariness. "She's... well, she's the Wolf King's blood thrall."

The words hit me like a physical blow. "Blood thrall?"

"It's... it's a special position among the wolf people." Giselle said, glancing around nervously before leaning closer to speak in whispers. "Blood thralls are chosen to provide sustenance for the high-ranking wolves, and in return, they're given privileges the rest of us can only dream of. Many girls were brought here, but only a few survived and gained status like Lady Liliana."

"She serves the Wolf King?" I asked, my mind racing. If Liliana had regular access to Lycanthar, she might have information that could help me understand what was happening to me—or she might be a threat I couldn't afford to ignore.

As we continued deeper into the castle's bowels, I couldn't shake the memory of those intelligent green eyes or the deliberate way Liliana had scented the air around me. If the Wolf King's blood thrall had noticed something unusual about me, how long would it be before she began asking questions I couldn't answer?

The corridors seemed to grow darker with each step, and I found myself wondering if I had traded one prison for another—one where the bars were invisible but perhaps even more dangerous than iron and stone.