Princess's Revenge: Slave to the Soulbound King Chapter 71

Adelaide

I found myself walking slowly through the familiar marble corridors of Eldoria's royal palace, warm sunlight filtering through stained glass windows to cast dappled patterns of light and shadow. Court attendants bowed respectfully as they passed, calling out "Your Highness" with the same warmth they had shown before I left. My fingertips brushed against the cool stone pillars, feeling their solid reality, yet my heart filled with confusion—was this real, or another illusion crafted by the Phoenix?

The oak doors of the council chamber opened slowly before me. King Edmund and my two brothers—Alexander and Leonard—sat around the circular table, maps and documents scattered between them. Father looked up, his violet eyes so similar to mine sparkling with paternal love. "Adelaide, my little princess, come here." Alexander showed a rare gentle smile, while Leonard pushed aside his scrolls and rose to pull out a chair for me.

Homesickness crashed over me like a tidal wave, blurring my vision with unshed tears. How many nights had I spent in the werewolf camp's loneliness, missing these beloved faces? My throat tightened with emotion, my voice trembling: "Father... brothers... I've missed you all so much..." I couldn't help but step forward, yearning to throw myself into those familiar embraces.

Just as I reached out my hand, a cold flash of steel cut through the air. A sharp blade pierced mercilessly through Father's chest, blood fountaining out to stain his silver-embroidered royal robes crimson. King Edmund's eyes filled with disbelief and shock as he slowly fell, revealing the figure behind him—Lycanthar, clad in gleaming armor, his face cold as carved ice, eyes burning with flames of hatred, blood dripping from his sword.

"Father!" My scream tore through the air. My brothers quickly drew their swords to face the enemy, but how could they match the power of the Wolf King? Alexander charged forward bravely, only to have Lycanthar's blade pierce his throat; Leonard, despite his agility, fell after several exchanges. My second brother's final act was to grip Lycanthar's leg tightly, using his last breath to shout: "Run, Adelaide! Get to safety!" Then Lycanthar's sword drove into his spine, ending his life.

The council chamber filled with the heavy scent of blood, crimson stains spreading across the floor like a spider's web. I stood frozen, hands covering my face, tears leaking between my fingers. Finally snapping from my shock, I released a heart-wrenching cry: "No! This isn't real!" I tried to rush toward where Father had fallen, but found Lycanthar's bloody sword pointed at my throat, forcing me to retreat.

"Adelaide Valendria, Princess of Eldoria, deceiver of humans." Lycanthar's voice was cold as winter, his golden eyes devoid of warmth. "You deceived me with your false tears and sweet words. You humans are all the same—lying, inferior creatures who don't deserve to live!" He raised his sword high, bringing it down toward my head, the blade's edge shrieking through the air.

In that critical moment, a strange and powerful force suddenly surged from within me. Silver-blue light of the Moon Bride erupted from every inch of my skin, forming a barrier that sent Lycanthar flying backward, sword and all. He crashed heavily into the chamber's stone pillar, his weapon clattering to the floor.

My eyes were still wet with tears, but they now held a newfound resolve. I walked slowly forward, picking up the blood-stained sword with trembling hands, pointing its tip at the fallen Lycanthar. Tears traced down my pale cheeks as I spoke, my voice soft yet firm: "Do you remember your promise? You haven't given me your answer yet."

Lycanthar laughed coldly, his gaze filled with contempt: "I make no promises to humans. Death is your only destiny."

I took a deep breath, lowering the sword, my expression becoming steady and calm: "Then you are not the true Lycanthar. The Wolf King I know values promises above life itself—he would rather die than break his word. But you—" I released my grip, letting the sword fall to the marble floor with a resounding clang, "you are not him."

With the sound of the falling sword, the chamber, the bloodstains, my family's corpses—everything shattered like glass, the illusion dissolving. I jerked my eyes open to find myself standing at the peak of Ember Mountain, in the center of a platform surrounded by flames. Before me, a massive phoenix hovered in mid-air, its entire body wreathed in golden-red fire, eyes closed as if it had been sleeping for years.

I quickly turned to look at Lycanthar beside me. His eyes were still closed, his expression tense, clearly still immersed in his own trial. I grasped his arm worriedly, shaking him gently: "Lycanthar? Lycanthar!" After several seconds, he finally opened his eyes, his golden pupils flashing with confusion and pain before slowly focusing on my face, as if confirming my existence.

"Are you all right?" I asked softly, my fingers unconsciously tightening their grip. "What did you experience?"

Lycanthar's voice was low and hoarse, as if he had just emerged from a nightmare: "I returned to the great battle three hundred years ago, saw you—no, someone who looked very much like you—holding a dagger, piercing my brother's heart, laughing as he fell." His gaze grew deep. "But I knew it wasn't real. You're not that cruel. I believe in your kindness, so I lowered my sword and refused to believe that vision."

"And you?" Lycanthar asked in return, his eyes showing concern. "What did you see?"

I bit my lower lip, hesitating for a moment. I couldn't tell him I had seen the Kingdom of Eldoria—that would expose my true identity. I lowered my head slightly, my voice gentle: "I... I was also in werewolf territory, watching you become cold and ruthless, killing everyone who cared for me, then trying to kill me." This wasn't entirely a lie, just omitting crucial details.

Lycanthar seemed to accept my explanation, nodding slowly. We both turned toward the sleeping phoenix, its flames illuminating the entire platform in the darkness, warm but not scorching.

"We have passed the trial, great Phoenix." Lycanthar stepped forward, his voice solemn and respectful. "May we now receive the gift of your feather to help us fight the dark creatures that threaten our homeland?"

After a moment of silence, the phoenix slowly opened its eyes—molten gold pupils flickering with ancient, profound wisdom, gazing upon the pair who had endured the trial...