Princess's Revenge: Slave to the Soulbound King Chapter 8

Draven

The ancient Council Chamber loomed before me as I pushed open the heavy oak doors, their hinges creaking with the weight of centuries. The vast hall stretched out in calculated grandeur, its vaulted ceiling disappearing into shadows that seemed to swallow the flickering torchlight.

At the far end, the Wolf King's throne stood like a monument to absent power—carved from white silver and inlaid with moonstone that caught and held the dancing flames. Three hundred years it had remained empty, too sacred for any to claim, too terrible to destroy.

Below the throne, three stone chairs formed a half-circle, their surfaces worn smooth by generations of heated debate. Two were already occupied.

Garrick lounged in his seat with characteristic arrogance, his massive frame spilling over the chair's edges as if the very furniture should bend to accommodate his presence. But it was the scene before him that made my jaw clench with disgust. A young human female knelt between his spread thighs, her tear-stained face buried in his lap as she performed the degrading service he demanded.

The girl couldn't have been more than twenty, her slender frame trembling with each sob that she tried to muffle. Garrick's powerful hand was twisted cruelly in her auburn hair, controlling the rhythm as he forced her mouth down onto his thick shaft. The wet sounds of her struggle filled the sacred chamber, a vile desecration of everything this hall represented.

"That's it, little whore," Garrick growled, his voice thick with pleasure as he thrust upward, making the girl gag and choke around his length. "Take it all like the pathetic human you are."

Vespera sat rigidly in the third chair, his face turned deliberately away from the obscene display, his knuckles white where they gripped his armrests. The disgust in his expression mirrored my own, but neither of us moved to intervene. To challenge Garrick's authority here would only escalate tensions we couldn't afford.

I remained standing at the chamber's entrance, letting my presence announce itself without words. The girl's muffled whimpers echoed off the stone walls as Garrick continued his assault on her mouth, his hips jerking erratically as he approached his climax.

"Lord Garrick," I said finally, my voice cutting through the humid air like a blade. "The Council Chamber is a sacred place, meant for discussing matters of state. Your behavior dishonors the Wolf King's throne."

Garrick's laugh was a low, predatory rumble that vibrated through his chest as he increased his pace, forcing the girl's head down until her nose pressed against his pelvis. "The beast hasn't sat on that throne in three centuries, Draven. I fail to see how my entertainment could possibly matter to a mindless animal."

His words were punctuated by a final, sharp grunt as he spent himself in the girl's throat. He held her head fast, his grip tightening until she swallowed, her desperate choking sounds echoing in the silence that followed.

"All of it," he commanded when she tried to pull away, his voice deadly quiet. "Don't waste a single drop, or you'll find yourself thrown to the wolves in the dungeons."

Only when he was certain she had obeyed did he release her, pushing her away with casual cruelty. The girl collapsed to the floor, gasping and retching, her face flushed and streaked with tears and saliva. Garrick straightened his clothing with leisurely movements, his eyes fixed on mine with open challenge.

"Now then," he said, settling back in his chair as if nothing had happened. "Shall we discuss the future of our beloved king?"

I forced myself to take my seat, my hands clenched into fists beneath the stone table. The girl scrambled to gather the torn remnants of her clothing, fleeing the chamber under Vespera's pitying gaze.

"Lycanthar has been lost to the beast for three hundred years," Garrick began, his tone now businesslike despite the lingering evidence of his depravity. "His mind is gone, consumed by the feral rage that saved us all those years ago. What sits in that cell is no longer our king—it's a dangerous animal that grows stronger with each passing year."

Vespera's voice was steady but firm. "The Wolf King's bloodline connects us to the Moon Goddess herself. To kill Lycanthar would be the gravest sin our people could commit. Imprisonment is the only acceptable solution."

"Imprisonment," Garrick scoffed, leaning forward in his chair. "And for how long? Another three hundred years? A thousand? That beast's power grows with each lunar cycle. If he ever breaks free of those chains..."

"He won't," I interrupted coldly. "Something has changed. I saw him today—he was calm. Truly calm for the first time in centuries. We should investigate this change, not rush to a death sentence."

"You seem to have forgotten how many of our people he killed 300 years ago." Garrick's smile was sharp and calculating. "In three months' time, the Eclipse Moon will rise again. His power will be at its weakest point—the perfect opportunity to end this charade once and for all."

The chamber fell silent save for the crackling of torches. Vespera and I exchanged a meaningful look, both of us recognizing the trap Garrick was laying.

"Your true motives are transparent, Lord Garrick," I said, my voice carrying the weight of accusation. "As long as the beast lives, the throne remains untouchable. That's the real reason you're so eager to see Lycanthar dead—because you want to claim what was never meant for you."

Garrick's mask of civility finally slipped, revealing the raw ambition beneath. "And why shouldn't I?" he snarled, rising from his chair. "Our people have been without true leadership for three centuries! We need a king who can actually rule, who can unite the clans and lead us to victory against those human betrayers!"

"Lycanthar united us once before," Vespera said quietly. "His sacrifice saved our entire race."

"His sacrifice created a mindless beast!" Garrick slammed his fist on the stone table. "Meanwhile, the humans grow stronger, rebuild their armies, plot against us. We should have crushed them completely after their betrayal, burned their cities to ash and claimed their lands. Instead, we cower behind our walls while they spread lies about our defeat."

My heart was filled with struggle; on one hand, there were Garrick's radical proposals, and on the other, the changes I had witnessed in the Wolf King. I must fight for more time for the clan. Finally, I spoke, "We still have three months to consider; perhaps things will turn around."

Garrick's demeanor shifted, the political animal reasserting control over the warrior. "Enough, these tedious arguments end here. Let's talk about something more interesting," he said with false lightness. "Tomorrow is the full moon night, and we have the traditional presentation of new slaves to attend to. I understand there were some... interesting additions to our household recently."

His eyes found mine with predatory focus. "I'm told two human females survived an encounter with our feral king. Remarkable, wouldn't you say? Such resilient specimens should certainly be included in tomorrow's ceremony."

My heart skipped a beat. Bringing her back from Moonclaw Citadel would be a challenge, but I had to accept Garrick's challenge. "They will be presented according to tradition."

"Excellent." Garrick's smile was all teeth. "I'm particularly curious about these extraordinary humans who managed what so few have accomplished. It should prove... educational."

As the three of us rose from our chairs, the weight of unspoken threats hung heavy in the air. Tomorrow's ceremony would be far more than a simple presentation of slaves—it would be another move in the deadly game we were all playing.

And somehow, I had the terrible feeling that the two human girls had just become the most valuable pieces on the board.